#yall are just being childish | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taegularities · 1 year ago

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colour me in: seven | jjk (m)

Summary: At first, it's an argument that causes the unwanted, childish distance between Jungkook and you. And then… open blazers and a lip ring.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: est. rel.; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: an argument, cute couple-y things but also they're dorks n cringe sometimes, seven jk (incl the promo pics, laundromat hoodie bf koo, and drenched in the rain koo!!), fighting over food, they're a bit mean to each other, but they adore each other too, brief mention of a rough childhood, sexual tension, taeun being everything, kissing, dumb jokes, period and pms mention!!, a photoshoot!, subtle hints to the future of the main story :'); explicit sexual content: ahh.. making out, dirty talk, oral (f. & m. receiving), brief spanking, face-fcking, light choking, sweet and rough sex, dom jk, big dick jk, whipped simp jk, petnames, multiple orgasms, sex on the couch n on the floor? :'), he loves her a$$ and tiddies, multiple positions, cockwarming!!, mention of aftercare... the ending lol :D ➳ word count: 25k lmfaoo it's oneshot sized yall 😁 ➳ a/n: hi!! welcome back!! this is part of my series colour me in, but you can read it as a standalone-oneshot!! tysm for supporting me and encouraging me, guys, it means so so much. this is also unbeta'd, so pls go easy on me LOL. and since this was a piece of worrrrk.. come and talk to me about it, it makes my day fr fr <33 ➳ listen to: seven by jungkook | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

In hindsight, your argument was blissfully domestic after all. In hindsight, maybe even comedic.

You’ve seen these things on TV and read about them in novels; didn’t experience them growing up because your parents didn’t really fight over such harmless matters. They never needed to lift a finger in their ultramodern kitchen, filled with up-to-the-minute equipment to fill their table.

But Jungkook and you don’t rely on such luxuries. You do things for yourself. So, such a couple-y, casual life leads to couple-y, casual arguments. Requires it. Fighting is healthy; entangles two souls some more.

Which is exactly where you are now. Exactly what you’ve become: A true unit. Quarrelling over trivial, everyday things.

Just to end up folded in half, holding onto the very last of your sanity, biting back more inappropriate screams.

In regards of making up, you’re perhaps not that casual. Because he’s a relentless, brutal beast.

Wrecking you right where everything began.

Monday

The end of the day begins with a giant hole in the middle of your thoughts.

Your previously whirring brain tossed away all thoughts of advertisements and seasonal launches, vacant and dark until your senses shut down everything that wasn’t vital to survival.

Like the lights of the evening as your car passed the streetlamps. The tired faces on the pedestrian zone, the odd wrinkles in your skirt, or the scent wafting from the kitchen when you step out of your heels.

Your mind operates on reflexes and automatic movements; the ball of your palm rubs against your eyelid, realising too late that you’re probably smearing your eyeliner.

A sense of reality only truly returns when you hear a familiar voice call out your name, muffled through the walls between you.

You exit the bedroom with fingers scratching the nape of your neck, tiny steps floating over the floor and past the living room. On the coffee table, you register one or two dishes. Rice, too. Smells so good, but…

As you reach him in the kitchen, you halt at the threshold, eyes scurrying to the few pots and ladles in the sink. He’s diligent and fast; cleans up when dinner simmers. Minimal work left after the meal.

For a moment, you take in the cleanliness of the kitchen, and when your eyes move up to the man himself, you beam.

He’s wearing an apron – baby blue with little flowers and rainbows imprinted on it. His mom bequeathed him with one of her old ones, and he’s been boasting about it ever since.

You saw one with astronauts, moons and telescopes once; you might purchase it for him at some point, not least of all because it includes all the things the two of you love.

A tattooed hand pushes back his mane, messy and pointing in all directions the way it does after his showers. His fingers card through the fine tresses two more times before he turns towards you — an immediate smile, similar to yours, spreads across his face.

The tiny little dimples over the corners of his mouth distract you for a second until you see his hand at waist level, beckoning you into the kitchen and a greeting, sweet embrace.

Compared to the cold outside, his oversized, full-sleeve, white shirt offers a familiar warmth. He always smells the same, musky and fresh; not like cherry blossoms at all, but he reminds you of their softness.

Mixed with the scent of tonight’s meal, you inhale it all, wrapping your arms around him as your eyes close in exhaustion. If he wasn’t swaying you in his hold, you’d probably fall asleep, right there against his chest.

A kiss to your temple, and he asks, “Hungry?”

You’re not sure. You cuddle into the apron and whatever’s visible of his shirt, and mumble against him, “Not too much… to be honest, I was gonna shower and sleep.”

“Oh?” he wonders immediately, traces of disappointment in his voice. “But I made this for you.”

You smile again. “You did?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll eat, don’t you worry.” You take a deep breath, and then lift your head off his chest without letting go. “In all honesty. I saw the food outside and thought you had it delivered.”

“So you were gonna waste something you thought was restaurant food?”

You laugh. You’re sure you could see his rosy pout even if you weren’t looking straight at him.

“No. It just looks very good… I would’ve heated it up tomorrow. But since yours was a one-person-effort,” you pat his back in pride, watching as strands of his bangs fall back into his eyes, “we shall eat.”

“And it comes from the heart, too.”

“Right. It comes from the heart, too.”

You rub his back once, soon backing away. There isn’t much to do for you anymore, but you still grab a couple napkins, chopsticks and spoons as he carries some water into the living room.

The couch feels soft, true Heaven, when you sink into it. Your heartbeat slows down, your mind at ease; when you tilt your head, your neck cracks.

But clinking your glasses of water with someone who cherishes you enough to step back and forth in a kitchen for hours… It's a comfort that’s incredibly close to a peaceful night’s sleep.

And it’s worth the effort, too. Despite the conversation and your complaints about work, you can’t help but compliment dinner every other moment. Possibly another endearing habit you picked up from him.

But you slow down when fatigue returns bit by bit, your eye twitching when you feel a well-known tickling in it.

You’re careful of potential spices when you lift your thumb and rub your eye with the back of it, fighting the itch. For a moment, you stop chewing, and Jungkook only lifts his gaze to you when the movement against your eye continues, circling motions.

“Hey,” he says, grasping your wrist, pulling it down slowly, “that’s bad for the cornea.”

“Yeah, I mean. It’s not like my cornea's been nice to me, either.”

You resume chewing, swallowing the mushy remnants of the rice. Your attention falls back to the bowl of food, and your chopsticks aimlessly poke around for a second before he asks, “Why? You okay?”

“Mhm,” you say, nodding gently. “It’s just,” you point to your eyes, chopsticks dangerously close to your face, “that eye thing. It might be an infection or something. It’s so bad today that it’s hurting my head.”

You’ve complained about the issue a couple times — back when it was just an itch, you assumed it was the dusty town, perhaps even sleep deprivation. But the itch has transformed into a relentless pain, moving up your temples and across your forehead.

“Again, yeah?” Jungkook asks, following with a tender gesture of tucking your hair back. The pad of his thumb brushes over your eyebrow. “I’ll massage your head before we go to sleep.”

You sigh in relief, tired eyelids shutting briefly as you claim, “You’re the fucking best, you know?”

“Yeah.” He delivers a nonchalant, drama-esque shrug of his shoulder. Unmistakable smirk. “I guess I do know.”

The giggles from when you started dating still remain. You remember annoying the hell out of your friends back then, high school butterflies visible through your stomachs and in your bright grins.

Jungkook’s ears would redden, a smile even in your eyes. You can imagine how irritating the honeymoon phase felt to them — not that the two of you ever snapped out of it.

Even now, you’re drowning in it.

Well, until you’re not.

Because the moment he slings his arm around you, leaning back, his plate and bowl empty, you move forwards. Place your own dishes onto the table, cuddling further into him.

Only, he seems to interpret it differently.

“Aren’t you eating anymore?”

Not the message you intended to deliver. But perhaps… he’s not wrong after all.

Because…

While the evening ended on a gentle note, much needed, you’re done with today by now. Craving a warm bed, strong arms around you. A sweet, soft sleep.

And the meal is worth a thousand culinary stars, but your appetite keeps dwindling, and hadn’t he put so much effort and affection into all this, you would’ve probably headed straight to bed.

So you answer truthfully, “I can’t eat more…”

“Hmm.” He briefly points to your portion. “You just ate half of it.”

Brief silence. It must’ve gotten late, because among the quieter traffic on the main road afar, you hear a couple nightlife bugs chirping, too.

You look between the bowl and him slowly, blinking, unsure what to say. The arm around your shoulder doesn’t match his tone, so it feels a little awkward now.

You mutter, “I’m sorry.”

Because should you force yourself to scarf all of this down now, you probably won’t be able to sleep.

But Jungkook’s hums and insecure voice are making you feel bad — you know he doesn’t mean to. It’s the puppy-doe nature, a combination of forlorn, soft eyes and pouty words.

“Ah… It’ll go bad by tomorrow, but…” he starts, but you cut in—

“Fridge?”

An immediate shake of his head, a click of his tongue. “Not with that one. I mean, we could, but it’s gonna be all dry and unpalatable in the morning, y’know?”

You don’t fully have a right to be annoyed. Neither of you does. But the day’s been irksome, work a mess, paper sheets flying around — on top of that, you finished your blister pack of birth control last Friday.

The period, probably approaching tomorrow and meddling with your busy schedule, is already putting you in a sour mood.

So the current lack of a solution doesn’t help your drooping eyelids and still partly tumultuous mind.

You push yourself forward on the couch, sighing before you suggest, “Okay. Then I’ll eat.”

“Woah,” he immediately voices, dropping his arm. He attempts to pull the bowl out of your reach, but you grip it tight, swallowing a small bite of rice. “I’m not forcing you to.”

“Yeah, but still.”

Another sigh of frustration falls out of you, your full stomach crying, but you pull the bowl to you, another bite ready between your chopsticks. But a moment later, Jungkook pushes your hand down again, every rice corn falling back to its prior place, fortunately never leaving the bowl.

Unbelieving, you shoot an aghast glare at him, to which he responds, “Don’t force it. Seriously.”

A rice corn still sticks to your lower lip, and you pull it in with the tip of your tongue. You place the warm meal back onto the table, half turning to Jungkook, voicing an irritated, “Dude!”

“You don’t have to,” he assures, but he looks clearly offended. Looks away, rubs his thigh, eyeing every object on the table before he adds quieter than before, “You know… That’s happened a couple times in the last few weeks.”

“…What did?”

“I’d cook for you and you wouldn’t finish it.”

“Babe… The last few weeks have been tiring.”

“I know,” his voice grows higher at the end of the syllable, but then calms again after a sigh. “But we refrigerated a lot of stuff, some of which I shared with Joon or Tae the next day. Or threw away.”

“Nah.” The ridiculing smirk you respond with isn’t intentional. You drop it right away, but still shake your head in disbelief, defending, “You know I eat up most of the time, especially when you cook. Just today, I can’t do more than this, okay?”

He gulps. Two fingers scratch his ear, eyes once again skimming over empty plates or remnant-filled bowls. He drops his digits back to his thighs, rubbing once more, and then puffs out a breath between rounded lips before he comes to a stand.

And then, all he does is nod; shooting a simple, “Alright.”

His tone is stern. You recognise the expression — his eyes still big, but different now. Usually filled with warm sparkles, they look pissed now. Not because of his dropping lids or the missing crinkles.

Jungkook doesn’t need to move a lot of muscles to look angry; the lack of the glimmer is just enough.

His lips are shut, not parted as they usually are when he focuses on something like his art or cooking or cleaning up. He’s exhaling and inhaling deeply through his nose, hands working on the dishes, but the fall and rise of his chest…

“You’re mad,” you conclude.

He looks back at you, the corners of his mouth never moving. His tone remains flat as he tries to convince you, “No. All good.”

Straightening his back, he attempts to walk away, hiding away in the kitchen until you’ve fallen asleep. He and you don’t argue too much — the little, couple-y, casual fights aren’t quite fights at all.

But they do end with a short distance until one is ready to approach the other and communicate again. A good strategy to cool your minds. You wouldn’t wanna discuss such a thing right away.

This time, however, you don’t want him to leave.

You pull him back again, holding onto the cotton shirt, and he protests with a loud call of your name and furrowed eyebrows as you insist, “No, you are mad.”

Your hand pushes against the couch, your body lifting, and you look him in the eye with a frustrated crease between your eyebrows. “Kook, I just am not capable of finishing it right now. You’re making a bigger deal out of it than you sho—”

“Yeah. Okay,” he interrupts, feigning acceptance and understanding, “it’s fine.” You scoff; sometimes, he’s truly as moody as you. “Things are different here, it’s fine.”

…What?

The sentence nearly comes out as a whisper as he finally starts walking away, and you only register it when he’s halfway out of the room. He balances the dishes in both hands, and you follow him to the kitchen.

Ask, “What’s different? Where’s here?”

“I work, too, you know? I get tired, too.”

“Jungkook,” you try again, slamming the hand against the counter; the sound’s muffled by a bright green cleaning cloth. “What are you talking about, things are different here?”

“Just.” He doesn’t seem to wanna talk. Carefully, he places the empty stuff in the wash basin, working on finding containers to dump the leftovers in them. “I get tired from working in the city, too, but I guess I grew up differently.”

…Huh.

You wait.

Let him collect his thoughts until he tells you, “In the countryside, you work for food, so you get used to finishing dinner. I know people around here rely on supermarkets, and honestly, I do, too,” his shoulders rise as he shovels the tofu dish into a box, “and I guess that’s why it makes sense why it’s easier for you to leave leftovers.”

Wow. Some statements in this world you live in are genuinely unfair.

You understood each of his words and lectures perfectly, but you still voice a little, “Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re not being serious.”

“Maybe.”

You blink. Then blink a couple times more. Observe as he closes the boxes and puts them in the fridge with a sigh. And you feel bad, you swear, you do. But that unnecessary turn of events…

“So what, you mean we don’t work for our food, right?” you counter, a hand on your waist. “We might do less physical labour, so that must mean we don’t appreciate what we get, yeah?”

Damn. And what if there’s more to that? What if—

“Or do you think it’s because I’ve always had enough money to not worry?”

Okay. Perhaps a long shot. He didn’t say it, but what if that’s exactly what his thought process was, too?

Your inner panic, invisible on the outside, grows when he doesn’t answer, lips firmly locked as if they didn’t just spew some crisp bullshit. You fold your arms, sucking air through your nose, and then demand, “Apologise.”

And when his eyes lift to yours, you freeze. God, they’re deadly. And his ingenuine laugh even more so as he throws back, “No, you apologise. Especially for assuming things I neither said nor thought of.”

“You were rude. I’m asking you nicely to take it back.”

“As nicely as I cooked for you. World’s in balance again, I guess!”

He throws his hands up, staring at you until he’s passed you by, eyes rolling. His nonchalant, idle movements rile you up more, and you can’t help but participate further in that odd exchange.

“You douchebag,” you call out, shutting the bedroom door as you reach inside, “I’m not a snob. I’d always finish my stuff, you can even ask the cook in my old house. He loved me because I wasn’t a picky eat—”

“Listen,” he interjects again, “I know. It's fine. I’ll sleep,” he points to the bed, “because this tired me out. Just drop it.”

“So you can drop it as you please?”

“Nah, just asking you to rest,” the first word comes out louder than he anticipated, his shrug vexed and vexing. He clears his throat. “And I’m sure you’re tired of this, too.”

You groan.

“And if I want to—”

“It’ll just escalat—”

“Dude, I—”

And once more, he showcases his annoyance when he glares at you from the other side of the bed, shutting you up, blanket already lifted. You anticipate another rude remark, a way of justification or to blurt something he doesn’t mean.

But despite his recent idiocy, you don’t deem him an asshole. Not to you, at least. Which proves right as he takes a breather, one knee hitting the mattress as he finally states—

“Let’s sleep over it, okay?”

The tone still isn’t as peaceful as it could be; you know it’s a tactic to dodge a fight. You might not be on your best domestic side tomorrow yet. But his question is final and his gaze even stricter.

So you reluctantly sigh, eyes still fiery as you breathe, “Fine.”

But it’s not fine. And the turbulent week ahead, filled with chaos for you and peak comedy to others, might just be about to prove it to you.

Tuesday

You chew on your bites until the taste turns bland.

Still distracted from last night’s exchange, you barely register the tart spicy quality of your dinner; a shame because this restaurant is your favourite place to frequent with friends.

Today, you’re toying with your cutlery, catching a glimpse of your grim reflection in the spoon every now and then. Whenever Jungkook’s elbow touches yours, your heart skips a bit, bleeding as much as your eyes want to water.

With how he’s smiling at your friends, appetite never faltering, you could burst into tears — because somewhere inside, you miss him despite the constant proximity.

Perhaps he does, too.

Because you notice when he drifts closer on purpose, casually putting his hand over yours. Seemingly lost in conversations, he rubs his thumb against the soft back of your hand; but when you look at him, you can’t muster a smile just yet.

It’s your ego, your stubbornness. Pieces of you want to stay pissed. You keep your cool, but try to avert your eyes whenever possible.

And when you, obstinate as last night, pull your hand from under his, you register the defeated sigh.

But instead of starting a new topic, he retracts his fingers, putting his arm on his table as he busies his other digits with his meal. When you dare a glance, the pretty curves of his blooming lips tug upwards, listening to Taehyung’s story.

Either hiding the discomfort between you or not feeling it.

Odd, because he’s your constant centre of attention.

“Yeah, I mean. Every job is stressful, you know? But it’s wholesome, too,” Taehyung narrates. You blink the silent pining away, and focus. “Like, one of my patients is an elderly man, a lot weaker than his wife. And she always comes with him, every single time.”

“She just waits for him the entire time?” Jungkook asks.

Next to Taehyung, Eun nods; she’s probably heard the story before.

“I mean, she entertains us, is more like it,” Taehyung explains. “He’s been getting geriatric physiotherapy to regain some strength, so he needs all the motivation he can get. And those two are such… dorks. They bicker all the time.”

You smile. Reminds you of when Jungkook and you first met. Persistent, pointless rivalry.

Perhaps Eun hasn’t heard all of this after all. Because as she cuts her dinner, she asks before stuffing her mouth with a bite, “How so?”

“Like. She’ll tell him to not be a baby and take that last step during gait training.”

From your right, Jungkook’s laugh reverberates like a melody from above, sickeningly sweet and amused. “Sounds like me and you at the gym, doesn’t it?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, flicking away stray hair with his forefinger, “Yeah, only because you can lift weights that’d break my arms.”

Another chuckle from the side. Even you smile a little.

Your man is strong, alright — and you’ve always admired it, experienced it a couple dozen times.

You’ve yet to see him work out at a proper gym; the home workout sessions barely count.

Ugh. The violent heartbeat beneath your chest picks up on pace again, and you take a deep breath to calm it just a little.

“Anyway,” Taehyung continues, “then she’ll tease him how the neighbour downstairs has much more flexible legs than he does and he’ll argue how she should’ve married him… and then she tells him that she would’ve if she didn’t love his old ass so much.”

When you giggle, covering your chewing mouth behind your hand, he adds, “I swear! It’s the most standard old couple banter if I’ve ever seen one. Thought that stuff only happens on TV.”

Eun, still busy with the remnants of her meal, doesn’t look up but asks, “So they joke around like that? They don’t get mad at each other or anything?”

“They act like they do. Not a sliver of jealousy or anger in them, though. Insane… and adorable. I guess when you’re married long enough, that’s how relationships turn out. And they should, too, you know?”

Hmm…

You side-eye Jungkook for just a moment, but don’t say anything.

You don’t know what’s written in your future. No clue whether he’s a permanent presence in it, a firm part of your fate or not; you strongly hope for an eternity.

You want to picture him and you grey and old. Wrinkled hands, adorned with blue veins holding each other. Weak smiles and crinkles around his eyes, hidden behind glasses, ever-present.

If he’s your future, you hope to laugh about such fights one day. Hope to let people wonder whether you’re actually furious with each other, veiling unbridled affection behind snarky remarks.

Just… right now, you can’t laugh about it just yet. You still feel oddly offended by his words last night, and it doesn’t help when tonight seems to drift towards a similar ending.

Because as you ask for the bill at the end, Jungkook still pays. You don’t think about it too hard, letting him do, staying seated to finish your drinks.

But your exhaustion reaches a new, entirely unnecessary peak when he starts cracking his fingers. On any other day, you’d put a hand over his, reminding him not to and move on.

Today, you’re in a bad mood, and your demands come out accordingly piqued.

“Stop it.”

“Hm?” he voices, looking at you, the warm light of the restaurant reflecting in his dark brown eyes.

“This,” you point to his fingers, “stop that.”

“Why?”

“Because you know it makes me cringe. A bit annoying.”

Eun, still unaware of the tension between him and you, shrugs her shoulders, “I know that irks a lot of people, but I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“Because you do it, too,” Taehyung complains; she mocks him with a sly smirk and a quiet, Yeah, yeah. He adds, “I can’t stand it, either.”

You lift an open palm towards him, nodding, “So you understand.”

“I’ve seen you do it, too,” Eun argues with a light push against his shoulder, “multiple times!”

“But not as often as you. You start and do not stop.”

You immediately agree, “He’s just like that, too!”

To which Jungkook interjects, his voice still calm; but you still hear the growing aggravation in his voice when he starts, “Honestly, I—”

“He actually has a couple habits that are just—”

You blow a raspberry.

Your interruption triggers Jungkook. And your words, admittedly not quite the sweetest, don’t sit well with him, either, because a moment later, he’s leaning forwards again. Looking at you directly before he continues his irritating bone-cracking.

You grit your teeth and repeat, “Stop that.”

“What?” he shoots back. You flinch. “A habit you despise so much, yeah? I don’t get the same intense reaction when I do something nice for you.”

So untrue.

Fucking hell. He’s talking about yesterday again.

You exhale through your nose, possibly resembling a bull ready to attack; Taehyung and Eun shrink in front of you, grimacing at each other. You’d laugh if it wasn’t you trapped in that exasperating back and forth of exchanges.

“Oops,” Eun whispers, yet overshadowed by your words as you defend, “That’s not true.”

“Maybe,” Jungkook says, shrugging a shoulder with an outrageous smirk, “but you never get that angry when I crack them at home.”

“I just don’t say it.”

“Oh? What else do you not say, hm?”

Taehyung dares an attempt, “Guys.”

But you’re too heated, a little stupid, very ridiculous as you spit, “Like, how irritating it is that you smack your lips every other second.”

Jungkook puffs out a breath. Looks to the side, straight into Eun’s direction who sinks a little more. He curls his lower lip in, running his tongue over it, jaw clenched and sharp. If you weren’t so focused on your temper, you’d find it scorching hot.

In a harmless little fight, you’d keep annoying him until he lost it eventually, mounting you and shutting you up in the very tempting Jungkook-esque way he knows.

But not here, not right now.

Instead, he fucks you up further as he sneers, “Right.”

“Or,” you continue, “that you don’t clean up your working space after painting.”

“What?” He furrows his thick eyebrows, ignoring Taehyung’s call of Jungkook’s name. “I mean. You have all your documents scattered on the desk. I might need it, too, y’know?”

“Why don’t you say it then?” you ask, tilting your head with one cocked eyebrow of yours.

“‘Cause I wanna let you work? ‘Cause it’s important for me that you’re able to focus?” He looks away again, tutting; his shoulder moves with his deriding laugh as he mumbles, “The fuck, really.”

Somewhere inside, you feel bad. You know his words are true. But you can’t tell him yet; so you just glare at him.

As silence finally falls upon you, Eun moves towards the table again, glancing between the two of you as she wonders, “What’s wrong with you guys?”

Everything.

“Nothing,” you say.

“…You wanna go?”

You wait. Jungkook doesn’t answer. Looks to the ground. When you don’t respond either, his eyes lift to yours, still big but not as enthusiastic as usual. Intimidating even.

You stay still, so he only voices, “Uh-huh.”

And the couple, enduring your awkward moment, lets you go gladly. You pack up, finishing your drink, and when you leave your table, you notice just how many people were staring at you.

Still are.

You really embarrassed yourself in front of a crowd, huh?

As the daughter of rich parents, owning a huge ass clothing brand, this isn’t something you should’ve done. But you pray and hope that you won’t wake up to a headline, or that journalists won’t interpret your little feud as a reason to break up or some nonsense like that.

Trouble in Heaven, they’d call it. Predictable little cockroaches.

You trudge past the customers with a deep breath in; Jungkook doesn’t seem to care much, because he walks ahead, hands in the pockets of his linen cotton slacks. Doesn’t look around.

Only bids Taehyung and Eun goodbye; tells you to buckle up when the two of you get in your car; curses once or twice when he misses the green light by a second.

And when you’re at home, sighing as the night approaches its end, you shake your head. Unbelievable whatever transpired back at that place. And you thought you were warming up to each other again.

Guess it’s your fault this time.

Which is why you hum when he calls your name, watching you put on your nightwear; bed ready while you still need to take off your makeup.

His question baffles you; more so with the slightly irate tone.

“Will you still give me a good night’s kiss or?”

You roll your eyes. Don’t say anything; grab your skincare products before you get to work.

He sighs once more; you see the shake of his head before you disappear into the bathroom, hear him say, “Whatever.”

But when you come out with a light rosy scent on your skin and jump under your blanket, you still shift towards his slowly drifting body. His arm under his head, eyes closed, lower lip pouting that you target carefully and—

Press the lightest kiss against.

Immediately, you turn around. Imitate his position.

He doesn’t reach out to you as he usually does, pulling you into his arms. But you still feel the petal-soft brush of tender fingers against your arm before the touch retracts again — and eventually, you fall asleep.

WEDNESDAY

The only reason Jungkook accompanied you to the laundromat is because your clothes gathered into a huge mountain. Neglecting your responsibilities at home, you brought two bags, and he insisted on helping you out.

It's late afternoon. Work tired you out, dinner is still pending; you don’t want to be here. And the place is empty; a yawning void. Just you, alone with your tank-top and grey-blue zip up hoodie clad, messy-haired boyfriend.

The retro plastic laundromat seats tired him out, so he’s standing at the far back. His eyes follow the tossing and turning of the clothes in the washing machine, and sometimes, they trail back to you.

And you — you’re sitting in a corner, arms folded, still uncertain whether you should wait for an apology or opt for one yourself.

The distance is childish. You’re way more mature than that.

But your fight is childish, too, and you guess sometimes, even healthy couples fall back into kindergarten routines.

Once the clothes are done and dry, the journey back home approaching, he helps you out. Tramps to you, mutters a little, “Gimme. I’ll take this.”

The bag strap drags his hoodie off his shoulder a little, revealing the flowery tattoo. He doesn’t fix it; lost in thoughts and silent until home. As if he wants to say something, but doesn’t.

In the apartment, he asks, “Dinner or takeout?”

And you, learning and indisputably craving his affection in any shape or form, answer, “We can make dinner.”

“I’ll do it. Get some rest.”

You sigh in relief. There’s solace in your gratitude — today was arduous, much like the preceding days of this week. You bide your time until he’s done, and then help him set the table and clean the kitchen.

The evening passes without any hostility, but ends without many gestures of fondness, too.

THURSDAY

“You don’t need to come, too. I bet you’ve other stuff to do.”

Jungkook adjusts to your steps. He snatched a jacket way too insufficient for the frosty weather, but he won’t hurry if you don’t. Doesn’t stray from your side.

So you walk faster. Then he does, too.

He rubs his nose, shrugs a shoulder and responds, “I’ve nothing much to do today, really.”

“Yeah, but,” you pull at the sleeves of his jacket, urging him to rush through the wind, “you’ll get bored. And I’m a big girl.”

“I know that. But it’ll be fine. Wanna make sure you’re okay, too.”

He nudges your elbow. You can’t pinpoint whether he’s daring an attempt to set things right or is genuinely concerned. Or both. In some way, the tension between you lingers, and you can’t shake off the awkward feeling just yet.

So you only nod, holding off an answer for a moment. Staring ahead, you listen to the soft sounds of the city, blinded by headlights soon passing you by. A bit longer and the first snow will fall.

The consoling feeling of winter days draws closer, feels warm despite the frigid wind. Hot chocolatesque. There’s just something about wool shawls and warm jackets and old, animated Christmas movies.

One thing you miss about living in your parents’ big, fancy house in your very old neighbourhood is the chimney. The soft yellow and orange of the crackling fire, melting the cold over your skin.

Sometimes you’d sit on the fleecy white carpet, protected by a thick, warm turtleneck sweater, watching the dancing flames.

You wonder again — if Jungkook and you are truly written in the stars as one, will you move into a bigger place one day? Save money and expand the comfort of the current apartment, investing in even more soothing walls with a couple little additions.

Not the lush, exaggerated luxury you grew up with. Not necessarily anything snobby.

But casual, domestic things, like a fire side you can sit in front of, drinking tea, slow dancing and giggling in the dark. Lit by the chimney fire; familiarity.

You sigh.

“It’s been long since I went to the dentist, too,” Jungkook then says, and you hum. That’s sudden.

“You should go then.”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes darting from your face to your hands. You unintentionally bury them in the pockets of your jacket the moment he reaches out for you; and when he understands that you didn’t notice, he curls his fingers into fists. “Maybe I can get an appointment now? Do they take walk-ins?”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I don’t know.” Then, upon realisation, you laugh a little and say, “I’m not going to the dentist.”

“What?”

“What?” You stare back with eyes as big as his. “Optometrist, Koo.”

His raised eyelids are nothing new. He’s attentive when it comes to you; recognises, notices and remembers every little thing. But you guess he truly has been tired, too.

And you feel bad for not considering it as much as he considered it. The reason he cooked for you in the first place, right?

You press your lips into a line, stare down to a puddle on the ground; an aftermath of the rain.

“Oh,” he makes, “why did I think we were going to— Sorry. My bad.”

In actuality, you did wonder if he knew. He didn’t ask questions when you told him you were leaving; simply announced he was going with. You were pulling socks over your ankles as his rushing form scurried across the room.

You guessed he’d figured it out. But the fact that he was ready to accompany you without a certain clue where you were heading makes you a little giddy.

Clearing your throat, you clarify, “No worries. It’s about that pain in my eyes. Remember?”

You wouldn’t be mad if he didn’t. Preceding your fight by perhaps a couple minutes, you don’t think the tiny statement still holds any relevance to him anymore.

Right?

Wrong.

“Yeah,” he answers, “yeah, of course. You thought it was an infection.”

“Mhm,” you hum, ignoring the butterfly wing slamming against your insides, “I’m so sure it’s an infection.” You click your tongue. “Itch first, and now it gives me migraines.”

“Yeah, you told me… But. It’s nothing serious, I just know.”

You look at his sculpted side profile.

You know him. Jungkook doesn’t actually know, of course — that’s not why he’s saying that he does.

But because hope is better than pure uncertainty; and he likes trying to manifest. He believes in little miracles like this. Knocks on wood a lot, tries not to voice potential disasters in case they might actually roll around.

So you take the reassurance. Walk to the clinic in silence. Attempt more small talk in the waiting room until they drench your corneas in those odd, blinding eye drops, dilating your pupils.

The brief, quick tests follow; the assistant is young and gentle, and you try your best to be a good patient. She seems to enjoy your temporarily formal behaviour, perfected in the years you grew to be a reputable heir.

You drop it once you’re in the waiting room again, awaiting the final consultation and results.

Jungkook is a restless companion. No matter how irritating, you’re used to the constant swaying and the movements of his legs. One might think he is anxious for you, eyes locking on the head doc’s office door every now and then.

Yet, he wonders, “Are you nervous?”

“Nervous?” you repeat, breathing out a tiny, amused laugh. “Nah. He’s really nice. And it’s just some eye stuff.”

“Well, eyes are important.”

The words come out quickly, but the last syllable dies gradually.

You smile.

Jungkook sometimes reminisces about a time when he’d hide from relatives or eat lunch at the back of class back in elementary school. He tires out the term introvertness, and you repeatedly retort with a certain ambivertness.

At times, he’s loud, flirty, annoying and confident — gives you a hard time believing that he ever averted a girl’s gaze or hid behind his cousins.

But then… there are moments when you see it.

Like now.

The puffy cheeks, the youthful pout, the big, big eyes flashing to the ground. Unsure what to say, unsure what you’re thinking of him.

Until he gulps, keeping his voice quiet and low as he continues, “Have you ever had a private optometrist?”

Huh. Not a question you expected. You guess starting the week with a discussion about wealth makes him think of such things these days.

“Yeah,” you say, shifting in your seat. You can still not see him clearly; his features are blurry, and you squint. “When I was younger. Big, bright places and top notch equipment.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I mean… It's not like usually used equipment, like here, is any worse than theirs. Also, same reason as why I went to a public college. Normalcy, I guess.”

“Odd.”

“…Why?”

“Because,” he draws a sharp breath, staring ahead. “Despite all the normalcy, you’re as extraordinary as can get. Money or not.”

A heartbeat passes. Among the sounds of the quiet chatter around you and the ads in the TV at lowest volume, your breath mingles with the hushed noises like a whisper.

His slowly blinking eyes are genuine, your reflection in his dark brown orbs clear. White dots sparkle like constellations in the sky, bright and plenty. It’s nice that they remind you of the sentimentality in his heart after every single serious or dumb, big or small fight.

For a moment, you keep looking. Your fingers twitch, urging to reach out, but as they start moving off your knee, you hear a call of your name.

Jungkook leans back, clearing his throat, smiles at you as you get to your feet and meet the doctor’s stare, kindly gesturing inside the examination room.

A couple more tests, a friendly conversation, more orders from his side before he gives you a diagnosis and a prescription.

And when you head out, Jungkook’s still sitting right where you left him. One leg restless again, leaning forwards, arms on his thighs and hands intertwined. His head is hanging between his shoulders; even from afar, you see his lashes move, eyes slowly blinking.

You can’t quite explain it, but you love this point of view — when you can see his parted lips, the lower one pillowy, partly hidden behind his button nose. Cheeks round. You truly do love this watching-from-above-angle.

Even though it clearly suggests he’s bored out of his mind. Beyond done with this place, but still here, waiting for you.

You clutch the strap of your bag again, sighing, and then move towards him with light steps. The back of your fingers reaches out then, brushing against his temple a tiny moment before he detects your shoes and looks up.

“Oh. That was fast,” he says; his eyes are drooping. He had a long morning in the attic. “What did he say?”

He gets off the seat, moving his stiff neck and cracking it a little, hand flashing up to his shoulder. You explain, “I need eye drops. Two to three times a day.”

“Ah. Then we could get them right now.”

You nod, allowing a little smile, telling him as you head out, “My eyes are okay, though. Somehow, my vision has improved, too.”

Jungkook’s lips form an excited Oh, but when he sees your expression, he says, “But you seem bummed about it.”

Ah. Well.

You feel ungrateful thinking that way, but…

“In some way?” you admit. “I’d rather have an infection that can be fixed with antibiotics and won’t come back so easily instead of… you know. Having to constantly rely on eye drops. It just sounds so permanent.”

Another deep sigh; you’re exhausted as well. “And I’ll have to remember to use them.”

“Hmm,” he voices, holding the door open for you. He zips his jacket close as you step out; an immediate breath cloud forming when he exhales. “Set an alarm, yeah?”

“Yeah. Just knowing myself…”

“I’ll remind you then.”

The suggestion is immediate, albeit accompanied by a seemingly nonchalant shrug of his shoulder; jacket’s sleeves adorably pulled over his hands.

“Once in the morning. You set an alarm for lunch and then I remind you again when you take your birth control pill at night. Yeah?”

The bitter feeling of the fight vanishes a little; you try to ignore the residual awkwardness, apologies probably still due. But right now, your conversation follows a different path, so you settle on a soft, little, “Thank you, Kook.”

He always does that. Remind you of your meds.

Your vitamins, your pills, that one nose spray hydrating your nose flora to prevent your mucosa from drying out or whatever your ENT doc told you. He did last night, too.

He always does — even if it means forgetting about his own responsibilities.

You blink a couple times, rubbing your eyelids before you admit, “Still hurts. Can barely see… and the streetlamps are so bright?”

“Lemme look.”

He stops in his tracks and you follow; his hand catches your wrist, pulling your fingers away from your eyes, and you turn to him slowly. You’re still attempting to clear your vision, so he orders, “Stop blinking.”

And once you do, he moves in. Takes your face in his already warm hands, staring, squinting, humming. He looks focused, and you raise your eyebrows, waiting for a conclusion until he finally mutters, “Damn.”

“What?”

He seems impressed. Looks a bit longer. You repeat, “What? Are they red? Swollen or something?”

“Nah,” he lets your face go, already stepping back as if dodging your proximity. “But,” he starts; you stare like a puppy, only breaking when he adds, “they’re pretty as fuck.”

Your playful punch rises as if on instinct.

One part of your relationship that never changed was your bicker, starting with annoyance and morphing into frisky, flirty remarks. You consider it the foundation of what makes the two of you a unit.

You grit your teeth, but can’t bite back the smile.

“Dude,” you scold, and he covers his arm instinctively, evading the punch looming over him.

But you don’t deliver it after all, dropping your hand, shaking your head instead. You say, “If you hadn’t helped me survive today, I’d—”

You steer towards him, attempting another scare, and he plays along with a flinch just before he starts laughing again. Hums and nods emphasise his words when he agrees, “You survived like a true champ. A big girl, you said, right?”

“Sure am.”

“Mhm. …My big girl?”

“Gross. Shut up.”

The atmosphere will stay odd for a while. That’s okay, you guess. At least it allows for a bit of amusement, hard to hide as you smile a little, bite your lip.

You lower your head, veiling your beam behind your hair, but you know he sees. Matches your smile — perhaps even a bit brighter than your own.

FRIDAY

The fast approaching weekend usually eases a week’s tension. But considering the mounting workload you tackled today and the endless Saturday you’ll be dealing with very soon, your muscles don’t relax just yet.

Imprisoned behind the bars of work, your thoughts circle around the schedule for tomorrow. In that sense, you come home late and can’t quite bother with the stress that spread throughout the first half of the week.

Jungkook already scarfed down tonight’s dinner, comfortably laying in bed and balancing the laptop on his stomach. From the sound of it, he’s watching videos of various genres.

Sitting on the living room couch and indulging in a short story for just a bit, you hear the enthusiastic voices of chefs rattling down recipes every now and then. It’s a hobby of his, but you can’t help but feel bad.

He studies those YouTube videos to improve his cooking skills, and you, ungratefully, leave the rest of his effort in the goddamn fridge. You sigh.

If you had the energy and will to talk it out, you’d do it now. You couldn’t all day.

He was still asleep when you left, and after work, you went to a brief dinner with a coworker to dash through details for tomorrow. Looking at the plan, you hope for at least a sliver of fun amidst the photoshoot chaos.

When you returned home, Jungkook was gaming right where you’re sitting now. You showered, only to find him back in the bedroom, with his eyes glued to said laptop. And now, as you approach the bed to end the night, he walks past you with falling eyelids.

He rubs them with the back of his tattooed hand, a tired pout on his face contradicting the seemingly badass image that the ink usually gives him. Hard shell, soft core and all.

“Be right ba—,” Jungkook’s hazy voice informs, last syllable broken by a yawn. “Go to bed, okay?”

His palm moves across your upper arm as he passes you by, and you nod, steering towards the inviting, warm mattress. Its surface melts with your body when you drop. God, you’re exhausted; can barely think.

You don’t think it’ll take you particularly long to drift away; and just when your consciousness slips, you feel an arm around you.

A soft hug, enveloping you. He drops his face to yours, lips gently pressing against your cheek for a moment before he adjusts the blanket over the two of you.

A current of warmth courses through your veins, and you draw a deep, long breath of affection when he cuddles into you. He must be thinking you’re asleep but slowly falling out of dreams, because he pulls you in and rubs your arm.

An effective tactic he usually wields to help you fall asleep.

He puts a leg gently over yours, his body so close to yours that you feel bits of the combustion of your heart.

Because…

Despite your stupid feud, you’re kind of happy that he’s joined you under the thin blanket, pressing more featherlight kisses against your scalp. Sighs against it.

And you can’t withhold the smile when he brushes over your clothed tummy and whispers, “My feisty little girl.”

SATURDAY

You remember to unclench your jaw.

The stress hardens your muscles. Your limbs are stiff, eyes unblinking until they dry out. Fingers wrapped around your phone, you hold the device firmly, shutting out the telling vibrations of notifications.

This cannot be.

There are a hundred fires burning around you. Erupted chaos causes panic, and in the middle of it are you, clueless and vexed beyond measure.

It’s one thing cancelling a shoot a couple days before it takes place — and another thing to call sick at the very last moment. You didn’t think the model would ditch you like this… but now that he has, you can’t figure out how to replace the missing piece of the shoot.

Your troubled co-workers call out a dozen names, but you don’t say a word, gazing around with a crease between your eyebrows.

This whole thing needs to be out in the open by Friday, and the photographers and editors need time. So, postponing this to Monday and the release of the ads to another weekend won’t work, right?

No.

You’re at the headquarters of this brand. And you’re one of the organisers of this shoot and project. Every single shop will need to postpone if you do.

Unprofessional. Goes against the schedule.

The complaints are still on full blast when you see a calm movement from the corner of your eye. You move your head to the left, peeking through the glass door, and on the other side awaits—

A wide-eyed man, staring inside, observing the tumult like he’s stepped into the jungle. He’s wearing a white shirt, tucked into jeans, long bangs hanging into his eyes and enhancing the sweet gaze so wonderfully.

Pieces of your stress melts — but you still can’t figure out why he’s standing there.

You walk to the door automatically, throwing a tiny smile when he detects you among the staff. A big hand waves in tiny, and you open to let him in.

“Hey,” you greet, pushing back to where you stood before. He follows. “What are you doing here?”

As you come to a stand, he puts a hand on your waist lightly, drawing close to press a kiss to your temple. Then, he responds, “Picking you up?”

“Wh—”

Oh. Shit.

You were going to go out and celebrate the end of the stressful week. He’d suggested it last weekend because he already knew how hectic today would be.

Ughhhh.

You’re terrible.

Jungkook realises your forgetfulness the moment your expression changes into a guilty one. His curious, innocent look drops with his eyebrows, and he sighs when you say, “I’m sorry, Kook.”

When he stares down at his shoes, you feel a wave of shame; the noise around you fades for just a second as he half sullenly, half disappointedly asks, “Really?”

“I swear… It’s not my fault.”

It’s not an excuse; not a lie.

He looks disheartened; knowing him, stupid argument or not, he was probably looking forward to this. Fuck, you feel bad.

Despite his obvious drop in mood, he doesn’t say anything much. Instead, he nods and assures, “It’s fine. What happened?”

You look around again. From afar, you see a coworker approach. She looks hopeful and you take the crumbs, but you still explain, “Everything should be done by now. We got most of the pictures, but… one of the guys bailed on us.”

“Shit, really? What now?”

You shrug your shoulders, once again racking your brain for a solution. People here are counting on you, but it’s not you who brings the very first somewhat reasonable suggestion of today.

Only somewhat reasonable, though.

Because the coworker approaching ogles at Jungkook like a pirate at a treasure, pupils big and wondering as she suddenly says, “Hold. Did you come up with that?”

You blink.

Then ask, “What?”

“You called him here?”

“What?” you repeat, a confused, little parrott.

She rolls her eyes, “He,” she points at Jungkook with a thumb, “is not allowed in here. Usually. So I assumed you called him as a replacement.” She tilts her head. “And he’s freaking perfect!”

Per—

What? No, no, no. That’s absolutely nothing you planned or permitted.

“No?” Instinctively, you take a step to the side, right in front of his broad shoulders as if to protect him from harm. You argue, “He’s not a model. He’s an artist.”

From behind, you hear, “I’m just an artist.”

“Yeah, but,” she throws back, “you’re art, too. I won’t lie.”

Another step back until your back almost touches his chest. His fingertips graze your hip, as a warning before you stumble over his feet. You can imagine the subtle rosy dust on his cheek; he’s fond of compliments.

As everyone is, you suppose. But.

“Hey, careful,” you tell her, disguising it as a joke, but feeling the lightest burn in your stomach when he laughs at her words.

She raises her pretty lips to a prettier smile, nodding in reassurance as she promises, “Yes, I know he’s taken.”

Another quiet chuckle from behind you, and you cock an eyebrow before he changes the topic and admits, “Seriously, I’m not a model at all and barely know what these things are like…”

To which she waves off his concerns and explains, “Oh, you just need to look good. We’d put some make up and clothes on you, a few pics and we’re done.”

Sounds easy enough. A bit like an insult to actual models, kind of putting those to shame who ran across stages for years to study, internalise and perfect their movements.

But you don’t correct her because you’re desperate, too. And right now, this sounds the easiest.

Still, he murmurs, “I’m not sure.”

“I understand if not,” she says. Her tone changes, fragments of frustration in it. “It’s just that we’re running out of options.”

Once more, you play out the upcoming week mentally. Postponing the last shoot. Postponing the release. Postponing the seasonal launch.

None of this is your fault, but you’d still be the one to get all the wary looks.

As if on cue, Jungkook squeezes your hip, and you look at him with worry painted across your face. You know he sees it immediately, but he still asks, “Is it that bad?”

You nibble at your lip, putting a hand over his as you say, “Yeah. We do need someone.”

“Is that allowed? Can I just replace a guy?”

“I’m technically the boss here, so you’d just need my permission,” you take a breath and then click your tongue, “I mean, usually we’d just reschedule, but we don’t have the time and those shoots already take hours. And in your case, we’d do all the paperwork, contract stuff later.”

“Would it help you?”

He’s considerate. Even in a stressful moment like this, the gentle tone, the deep care makes you weak. The answer’s already clear, but you still tell him, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Again, it… might take up to two hours or so.”

“But it’d help you, babe, wouldn’t it? Unless you don’t want me to. Then I won’t.”

You don’t have a single problem with this; in fact, you’d be happy to put him in front of a camera. His genuine thoughtfulness liquefies you — you’re a puddle at this point.

“Oh, I… Jungko—”

Juri intrudes, “I’m sorry,” carefully, she inches closer, nodding over her shoulder, “Just wanna say that we have a lot of designers in our team. They do logos and make the posters and all. Maybe, if they saw you — because the country already knows you as her artistic man from newspapers — they could teach you some digital art stuff.”

“I…” Jungkook starts. He’s probably thinking the same — which he confirms when he adds, “I’m not sure how me modelling for you might relate to artistic stuff. But I already know a lot about digital art.”

Yeah, exactly. Of course he does; what else did he wade through college for throughout these years?

“But,” she lifts a finger, infinite force in one word already, “have you ever tried expensive equipment and all?”

Oh oh. You feel bad.

Is that the group of society you represent? Maybe you guys are a little pretentious after all, dealing and seducing with money.

But he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t dare to challenge her when he steps next to you and says, “I can do it, but not for that digital art offer.” He puts a hand on your back, rubbing lightly and briefly, “For her.”

You fold your arms under your chest; less to show dominance, but more to press against the butterflies. There’s a type of nausea falling in love elicits, deep in your stomach where everything appears so surreal and beautiful that it makes you oddly sick.

The first time your pupils took on their heart shape was the first moment Jungkook practised that effect on you; made you realise what inevitable emotions he was pulling you into.

That effect has not faltered; your guts still twist.

At least, for a couple minutes.

Because the second your coworker-vultures attack him and drag him to the back room, something changes. Nervousness, you guess. You know the clothes that are awaiting him, but stepping out of makeup and into the spotlight leaves you gasping for air.

From afar, he’s leering at you.

Wearing a snow white shirt, tucked into his pants, priorly tousled hair still messy but styled in curls. Yes, you might know your collection — but you didn’t think it’d fit him like second skin.

Why did you doubt it, though? Jungkook could wear a trash bag and still compete against Adonis.

For a moment, he stands still, entangling his fingers, looking around. Then, he’s smiling in uncertainty, awkwardly putting his hands on his tiny waist, waiting for directions.

Juri tip-toes towards you, as if you’re filming a scene in a drama. She pulls the clipboard to her chest, one digit pointing to your struggling man before she says, “He’s adorable.”

You nod. “I wonder how he’ll do.”

“Well, yeah,” she murmurs, half distracted; but then she averts her eyes from him, looking from your nervous lips up to your furrowed eyebrows before she assures, “Worst case scenario, we’ll postpone. End of story. At least we tried.”

“Hmm… Well, let’s hope it won’t be that case.”

Which, you soon realise, it certainly isn’t.

A couple professional suggestions by the director and Jungkook gets into position. The initial movements of his hands and body are a little strange and awkward, and you can’t help but want to pull him from this chaos and wrap him in a fuzzy blanket.

But the seemingly feigned adorable stance soon shifts into something unexpectedly dangerous when he raises his chin. Thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, he relaxes his body, lips suddenly forming a tempting, slight pout.

He doesn’t usually look like that…

“Wow,” you whisper, faintly registering Juri’s fascinated nod from the side.

This is still a harmless pose, you think; one the director dared him to do. But you’re surprised by the sudden confidence, the way Jungkook doesn’t fumble or stutter or question anything.

Some of his softness shines through the moment the photographer gives a thumbs up, a tattooed hand cracking the fingers of the others. Doe eyes back, he leans forwards as if he could peek at the pictures like that, asking cautiously, “That okay?”

He looks different. Why does he look different?

“That was great! Perfect start. I promise the rest is just as easy,” the team encourages him, asking him to monitor the pictures they just took.

Jungkook walks to the strangers in slow steps, chest behind the tight, white top heaving once. On his way, he looks up to you instinctively, throwing the same thumbs up at you with a questioning gaze.

And you, still baffled, smile.

Watch as he converses with the people, his grin wide when he likes what he sees — an instant confidence boost, though you still see the nervousness in his stance. Where was any of it when they clicked the photos?

As if a demon possessed him for just a minute. Dual and dangerous.

Then again, he’s not very different in your daily life. A celestial soul on some days, catering to your every whim, never letting your feet touch the ground.

And a beast on others, inhaling your sounds like a starving incubus, never heaving your body off the mattress.

The duality doesn’t disappear with this very first outfit.

When some music starts playing and they tell him to move freely, filming the sequences for the ads, your eyeballs nearly fall out of your eyes. And you finally realise why he looks so different now.

Because the moment his thumb touches his lower lip, mimicking a wiping motion (much like he does after kissing you sometimes), you see the silver-plated jewellery glimmering from all the way from the set.

Lip ring.

Whose idea…

“What did you do back there?” you ask, near-panicking, your heart dropping into your panties.

Juri flinches, asking, “What?”

“Is that a lip ring? You gave him a—”

You puff out a breath; it’s immensely difficult to be mad at him like this. He’s been looking…

“Shouldn’t we have?” her tiny voice asks; her body shrinks a little.

“I mean. I just. It wasn’t planned.”

“Yeah, but look how amazing he looks.”

You’re seeing it, alright.

The subtle touches, the light tugging at his shirt. Movements just right. He looks all serious, like a beast, hotter than motherfucking hell. Transports your saliva into your windpipe with each look he sports.

Until you actually feel yourself choking and gagging once he leaves and comes back for the next shoot twenty minutes later.

Because why on Earth did they omit the shirt under the grey blazer?

You’re close to dashing to costume and makeup, confronting them to ask why they chose to toy with your sanity like this. Because… the lip ring is still there. His hair is suddenly slicked back. Fingers adorned with rings.

And he looks so goddamn good.

Maybe it’s your fault. You told them you trusted them, and that they were supposed to do as they pleased. And they are… they so are.

All of him, like a strong magnet, pulls you in, but you keep your feet firmly on your spot, cementing yourself in place. There’s something incredibly attractive about the way he presents himself — new, talented.

You’re fidgety, a sexually frustrated observer when he touches his jacket, pulling it open just a little. The inked hand is veiny; you see it from here, too. The light gesture allows glimpses of his chest.

Small, perked, brown nipples. Lines and ripples of his abs firm. Ending in his V-line, hidden behind the peeking underwear and blue, baggy jeans.

Heavy chains are already menacing when he shuts his eyelids and parts his lips. Worse when he leans forwards, hazy eyes staring into the camera as if he’s about to devour the camerawoman.

Jeon Jungkook is a hazardous danger to society. The world will want him — and he’ll only want you.

Fuck.

You’re drooling. Drowning in your own puddle. Crossing your legs.

And when they tell him to sit, ordering to open the button of his jeans and push it down his hips just a bit, the little yous in your brain wreak havoc.

A fire starts in the organised office of your mind, red sirens blaring, and you look at Juri as you ask, “Why is he naked?! Why’s the blazer off his shoulder?!!”

“Because,” she defends, hiding behind the clipboard; it’s not her fault. That’s what the other model would’ve done, too. “Underwear ads!”

You’re aware. You just didn’t think it’d be Jungkook ending up in this position. Perhaps you didn’t think it through; didn’t know what it’d do to you.

But his effect pools in your lower stomach; so intense, you might cry.

“What the fuck,” you mumble when he takes the jacket off, sitting up and improvising all of a sudden. A hand covers his mouth, the blazer thrown over his shoulder. “What’s the point of holding it? He’s not even wearing it.”

“Because,” she starts again, “we’re focusing on the underwear.” Where’s the focus on the underwear? You can barely see it. Are people plotting against you? “It’s okay.” She pats your shoulder. “No one’s gonna touch him, love.”

You bite your lip. You know.

You aren’t distressed because you’re mad. But because knowing that everybody will crave him and nobody will get him turns you on more.

The fact that you’re the only one he’ll look at with those starry eyes; with the hunger in his gaze. The only one he’ll press into your bed, lips close to your ears, whispering endearments and filthy, little promises.

This man wants you, and you can barely handle that truth.

New thoughts and ideas form in your mind, too wild and desperate to be occurring right in this moment. So you mentally whoosh them away, holding on for the rest of the neverending shoot until a round of genuine applause sounds around the big set.

God. Okay. Hours of torture later, and he’s done.

A shy bow. No. This monster might convince anyone else, but you know he’s not as innocent as he gives himself.

He jogs over to you, says quietly enough for only you to hear, “Don’t tell them, but that was great.” You can imagine. He backs away, looks down to his defined abs, “I need to change. And then we can head home, they said.”

You blink, perplexed and still out of words. Which he struggles to interpret, looking over his shoulder and then back to you. Unsure, he adds, “Unless you need to wrap things up.”

When a random shout echoes through the room, you awake, inhaling deeply before you tell him, “No, I. I mean, yeah, we’ll wrap things up, but that shouldn’t take too long. Should be mostly done when you are.”

He nods. Waves, and then steers towards the others, shaking hands and exchanging smiles. Short convos. Then, to the back room.

You’re too out of your mind and tired to chat much with staff. You go through the next steps, talk about waiting for the editor to be done with the photos, list the leftover things on your to-do list before the winter launch.

And that’s it. You meet Jungkook at the exit to the hallway, relieved when the end of the day approaches. On your way back home, you converse lightly, though he stops when you yawn one too many times.

He lets you rest as you pass shops and traffic lights, and holds your hand when you get off the vehicle. Drags you up the stairs; the climb is arduous. And then allows you to get ready for your slumber in peace.

The second the back of your head collides with the cold pillow, your eyes drop shut. The world spins behind your tired eyelids, adjusting to the darkness and the silence.

A sigh of relief pushes out of your mouth; a profound sense of tranquillity calms your lit nerves. Jungkook, next to you, seems just as exhausted because the yawn as soon as he slips under the covers is long and tear-inducing.

He’s blinking away the dampness of fatigue when you look over to him; you haven’t talked much since you arrived home, but Jungkook uses the moment to say, “I had a lot more fun than I expected to have.”

You’re so incredibly thankful for his last-minute rescue. But you can’t help but think of the muscles and expressions an hour prior. The seductive gaze, the lip accessory, the ring-clad fingers.

Perhaps it’s because of the time of the month, but you feel vexed by how affected you feel.

You control your tone, though the word still sounds monotone when you say, “Good.”

Catching upon it immediately, he shifts slowly, sniffling and head propping up on his hand before he asks, “Did you not like it?”

“Oh no, I mean,” you start, “you were amazing. I just didn’t know they’d send you out naked for the world to see. Thought the plan was to close a couple buttons.”

“The stylists told me. I think it was a spontaneous change because—”

You glance at him when he hesitates. A sly smile spreads across his features, just a little guilty yet amused as he watches your curiosity grow.

“What?” you ask.

“Nevermind.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“It’s nothing!” he exclaims. “We just thought it’d look cool. I thought you’d like it, too, actually.”

You did. That’s the issue. You liked it enough for it to burn into your mind, and now you can’t shake the image anymore.

No matter how many times you’ve seen him butt naked, buried inside you without a gap between your skin — something about his confidence and eyes stirred an unknown level of desire in you.

But you can’t tell him. Because the thing you want won’t be possible right now. You keep your thoughts veiled.

Instead, you unleash your annoyance because God, you hate him for being so hot.

“Right,” is all you say.

“Hey, don’t worry. Even if they ask, I’m not doing this again.”

“Might make you famous, though,” you mumble.

He snorts, fingers sneaking to your tummy, “So what? That’s not my profession. I didn’t study to become a model. Will work on my actual efforts.”

“Okay.”

The single word forces a sigh out of him, and he shakes his head, tapping his fingers against your stomach as he whispers your name thrice. Like he’s scolding you.

And then, “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you spit without hesitation, “of whom?”

You’re not. And you know that just for the moment, he won’t believe you. Which is fine. You’ll tell him the truth once your period’s over for the month.

“Of people who might see me and like what they see.”

Okay. Jerk.

At this point, he is doing it on purpose. You see it in the cocky smile and the jesting tone and the way his fingertips draw circles over your shirt, itching to sneak underneath the fabric.

You know him.

He’s so annoying.

“No,” you repeat.

“You sure? Huh?” Fuck, not that sulky voice. You close your eyes, but he raises your chin, making your head move. “Look at me, angel.”

“Hmm?”

“You said no, but you do look a little fiery,” he tells you. Yeah, if he knew that the real reason doesn’t lie in envy or whatever the world thinks of him. “What? My girl is jealous of people I won’t even perceive?”

No.

But she does feel the tickling, flattering lust pooling in her lower stomach, Jeon, thank you very much.

“Jungkook,” you start, although breathier when he moves closer, towards your neck. “Don’t be annoying.”

Which triggers a slightly mocking tone; he tuts before he says, “Baby bails on our date today. Will fight me in a restaurant. And then I’m annoying?”

Your answer is immediate and as shameless as can be.

“Yes.”

And it makes him laugh. Hot and sudden against your skin, his breath makes you shiver more than the relentless cold outside ever could.

“Not gonna lie,” he begins, “that brat behaviour isn’t too terrible.”

“Shut the fuck up, you just—”

He just what? You don’t know. Your sentence floats between you when his nose raises your chin, freeing the path to your neck before he’s nuzzling it slowly.

You feel goosebumps at the back of your neck, hair standing up, tingles across your body where you didn’t deem them possible. Under the blanket, your legs shift, and he hurries to move one of his between yours.

Hand still on your shirt, he places a barely-there, soft kiss to your neck; his fine tresses tickle your face and you crumble.

You have long forgotten your unfinished sentence, but he hasn’t. Asks, “What?”

You bury your nails into his arm, intrigued by the little hiss followed by a subtle laugh. Growing in volume when you say, “I kinda hate you right now.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, stretching the second word, “I hate you, too. Absolutely loathe you.”

You silence. Hold onto him when he French kisses between your neck and shoulder. And then breathe, “Then go away.”

“Mhh. Maybe I should.”

“Maybe…”

And then, out of the blue, his teeth dig into your neck like a gentle vampire, stopping immediately when you wince desperately. A hot tongue soothes the bite, a strong hand pushing you down by your shoulder again when your body lifts off the bed just a bit.

He keeps you in place, moving to your jaw. And when you whimper in lust and want, navigating his leg closer to your core, he curses, “Fucking hell, babe.”

Then, he’s inhaling, fingers wandering from your shoulder to your wrist as lips finally clash.

His body moves half onto yours, slowly gauging your reaction to the kiss as if he’s still expecting the burst of cumulated emotions. But when you give into his gesture, granting him your tongue, his face moves further against yours.

Undecided fingers let your wrist go, getting ahold of a patch of your hair. You hold his arms again until you wrap yours around him, fingers on the nape of his neck as you pull him in.

You tilt your heads in unison, deepening the kiss, drinking him up. Let him open your lips with his, keeping them like that, tips of your tongues playing with each other.

His touch drops to your waist and down to your pyjamas, pushing them down a little, grazing your panties. But then, his teasing palm floats up again and settles over one of your tits, squeezing once and drawing a telling moan out of you.

No bra.

He loves your little habits. You live through them casually, never noticing how badly they empty his mind.

Seems your head is blanking just as much at his touches; because you look delirious, lost, breathing in and out heavily. Jungkook basks in the expression, pushing a hand to your neck.

And only when he presses in gently, trapping you in place, do you seem to wake.

Eyes shoot open, and you inhale deeply, as if saved from drowning; remember every bit of today. The lines of his abs. The lip ring. The jewellery on his fingers.

You could ask for him to go on, to wreck you thoroughly. But of all arguments stopping you from doing so, there’s one damn reason that asks to prevent the mess.

Fucking period. Would create a literal bloody chaos. And you’re exhausted.

The thing is — if you asked him, you know he’d give it to you.

He’s reckless and careless. But you can’t risk the state of your sheets and the state of your mind. You have more work to do tomorrow; also, if you continued now, you’d be tired and immobile tomorrow, you know — and you need to be awake for this.

Fully in your senses.

Ugh. Fuck.

And the last damn day of the red waterfall, too. Thinking about it, perhaps that’s the reason for your agitation this week.

In hindsight, you know you’re never bitchy like that — he didn’t give you the nickname of an angel for nothing, right? Fuck PMS. Fuck mood swings.

Your poor boy, enduring the wrath of it.

But maybe you need to act pissed just a bit longer because—

“What?” he asks.

It’s not the time. So you stop him, pushing him away lightly. Shake your head, calling forth a crease between your eyebrows, turning away just a bit.

He falls back, once again keeping his upper body up by his arm. Inquires, “I— are you still mad?”

Truthfully, you answer flatly, “I’m on my period.”

“So?” he answers, laughing until he sees your lips, pressed into a serious line. “I’m not scared of some blood.”

You knew it. He’d give in if you told him to.

But what you want can’t be received during this time of the month. What you want requires unhinged chaos, carelessness, breathlessness. Craze of many minutes, hours.

You want more than a short, cautious session that asks you to peek at the sheets and the towel you’d get every now and then. You want to fucking lose yourself in hi—

“Let’s not,” you answer, your tone nonchalant, “Just. Let’s go to sleep, alright?”

He murmurs your name, trying again; but when you turn on your belly, giving a last sign to end the night, you hear him groan quietly.

You grimace when his head falls onto the pillow with an angry thump, movements under the blanket agitated as he scolds, “My God. Alright. You wanna be pissed for an entire week, then be pissed. I can’t do more than that.”

Oof.

If he only knew. And something in you tells you that he will very soon.

SUNDAY

Too lazy to work through the preparation process in the kitchen, Jungkook and you quietly decide to spend lunch outside.

The café nearby is a place you’ve wanted to visit for quite some time now. And despite the flaky, dry sandwiches they served, you’re glad time passed quickly, the awkward conversations between you coming to an end.

When you return from the bathroom, the sky above looks grey. Desolate. The weather forecast predicted a surprisingly pleasant late fall day, but the approaching rain is obvious. Which, you anticipated more than the weather forecast did, really.

That’s why an umbrella is leaning against the leg of the table, and you grab it as you watch Jungkook fumble with his wallet, stuffing it into his back pocket.

He gulps down the last sip of his Matcha Latte, dimples above the corner of his lips as he smacks the taste away. Then, he gets to his feet, asks, “Ready to go?”

Absent-mindedly, you nod, glancing to the sky and then back to him again. He looks sweet and domestic; but you can’t quite take him seriously. Not necessarily because of the fight anymore.

It’s been far too many days to still dwell.

But because of the damn lip ring, the open jacket, the gelled back hair. His destructive expressions. Like he could devour you whole.

Jungkook doesn’t stay angry for a long time, you’ve noticed. He always tells you how his temper used to be worse as a teenager, but how he’s learned to control himself.

Agonies of childhood, relationships and friendships taught him patience. And you notice. You truly notice.

Because he hands you your purse sweetly, immediately stretching his palm towards you. A slight smile spreads across his face, and you respond with a weak one of yours. Take his hand and let him lead you home.

You’ll walk the short distance; it shouldn’t take longer than seven or eight minutes.

And as you approach home, the hand holding yours mimics the motions of the one gripping the umbrella — he brings both arms into swing, somewhat euphoric but casual when he says, “The food was so dry there.”

It’s odd, talking to him like that after several days again. But you nod slowly, and agree, “I know. But at least we know where not to go anymore.”

“Yeah. But I mean, great beverages.”

“The milkshake, too.”

He tugs you a little closer, elbows soon touching, “I still think you should’ve gotten something warmer. You get a cold fast,” he looks up with squinted eyes, “and it’s already chilly today.”

You squeeze his hand as a thank you; Jungkook cares for you in little, subtle ways, and you’d lie if you said you didn’t think of it every now and then. You answer, “I feel fine, though.”

“Okay. Hope that stays.”

His palm, soft in yours, shifts until he’s intertwining his fingers with yours, attempting a stronger grip. You lift your eyes from the ground to his face for a second, meeting a gentle smile, and feel more pieces of your heart split.

They wander through your body, along your arm and straight into his chest, merging with his own organ. If you could, you’d push him against one of the unlit lamp posts, parted lips opting for his, breathing into his mouth.

He infested your thoughts and stuck with you, no way to escape the moment you first fell for him. And somehow, he managed to keep this effect intact, digging deeper into your mind and making himself home every damn second of the day.

The desire you’ve been feeling doesn’t just stem from lip rings and talent behind the camera. But you also keep realising that you’re truly this man’s, and that this man is truly yours.

A hard truth to fathom when you’re the subject of interest to one unique Jeon Jungkook.

But you want all of him. Want him over you, around you, taking all of what no other guy will ever be allowed to touch. Want him to show you once again where you belong and that you’re in this for as long as his affection is aligned with yours.

Fuck. Home is too far away.

So you look away from him. Which he interprets in an entirely wrong way.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks, an inquiry out of nowhere that has your eyebrows kissing.

“No,” you answer.

“You barely talk to me. And,” he halts to wipe away a raindrop. Guess the clouds are gathering. “And I miss you.”

Your ribs might break. He keeps doing this to you.

“I’m not mad, Kook. Was just PMS-ing before,” you try again, adding a nickname for good measure.

“You sure?”

Jungkook is a free-spirited soul, careless to a healthy degree most of the time. There are only a few things that break his composure; familial insecurities, shitty pasts — and then there’s you.

Topping his list of priorities, you’re the only aspect in his current life that pushes him into spirals of overthinking.

And right now, he’s in the middle one, requiring a thousand reassurances. You want to answer. You really do.

But the distraction from above proves too strong the second you open your mouth. In the middle of your walk, the clouds explode, roaring for a moment before a downpour suddenly showers onto you.

The raindrops are thick, the bursting clouds aggressive.

Instinctively, Jungkook opens the umbrella, hastily working on it, and once under it, your steps pick up on pace. You wrap an arm around your body, closing the jacket, hooking your other arm with his and pushing the two of you forward.

“Shit,” you say; you look up, but can barely see anything. Only hear the thunder.

The wind grows colder, grazing the skin of your face incessantly. Despite the umbrella, the merciless rain wets your cheeks, singular drops flying towards you. Jungkook’s hair covers his face, and he shakes them off his eyes.

You gasp when a literal newspaper flies past you.

“Come on,” you encourage, already shivering. “We can talk about it at home, okay?”

But surprisingly, incredibly lost in his own head, he doesn’t give in. He adjusts to your pace, holding the umbrella in a strong grip, sighs and argues, “We can talk about it anytime.”

“Not now.”

“But—”

“Kook, right now’s not the time for this.”

Holy shit.

This man is a phenomenon. And you wish he wasn’t serious, but you know that he is. A full-on simp-y fool, no matter what.

“You’ve avoided me all week,” he yells over the sounds of the rain, sniffling, looking at the storm ahead, “we won’t die. It’s just rain.”

“It’s a thunderstorm, you idiot!” you exclaim back, moving straight forward and past running passengers. You should be home soon. “And in a minute we won’t be able to see shit.”

Jungkook must be made of cement. Broad shoulders, a well-trained body and willpower seem to combat the storm when he suddenly halts in his steps.

Immediately, you grab the umbrella, keeping it from nearly flying away; and when you remain the only presence under it, you ogle back. Watch him stand there in his red-white jacket, getting soaked by Mother Nature.

What the fuck.

You rush back, grabbing his wrist, pulling him forward as much as you can as you reprimand, “What the hell are you doing? Come on.”

“You’ll talk to me if I do?”

“Jungkook, we’ll die here, I—”

You flinch and gasp when another strong wind blows, once and for all ripping the umbrella off your hand and making it fly a couple feet from you. You watch it break through the fog of rain, mouth wide open with a dozen curses on your tongue.

“Fuck,” you exclaim, gritting your teeth, “I will. Just please, okay?!”

He’s so annoying. The way he looks at you, breathing hard, white shirt drenched and sticking to his body. You tug at his arm, forcing him to run when you do.

It takes you two entire minutes, wordless as you wish them to be, to reach his street and apartment. You tremble in the hallways, rushing up the stairs, and eventually take a seconds-long breath when you step into the flat.

It’s cold. So cold — and you had your jacket protecting your shirt. Your jeans and hair are soaked, your socks a sponge, soaked in a couple millilitres of water.

But it’s relieving when you take the jacket and your jeans off, pulling out the oversized, wrinkled shirt from under your pants, covering half your thighs. Jungkook slips out of his boots and rushes for a towel, approaching your heaving form at the door to dry your hair.

You quiver for a couple more minutes, fearing an approaching cold after all. But once settled on the couch, indulging in the comfort of thick joggers and a fresh cotton shirt, you sigh.

The silence still holding on only breaks when you drop your head back on the couch. A warm hand sneaks to your cheek, and when you open your eyes, he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Warming up…” You lean into the touch, though still irritated by his behaviour before. “Thought it’d rain, but that was a surprise.”

“Yeah.” A pause. And then, “Was a little romantic, too.”

Unbelievable.

You roll your eyes at him, head tilting, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. Perhaps he’s joking. The goofy smile suggests that he is.

“Was it, yeah? You just—”

You click your tongue. Think back to him nearly offering his soul to Zeus just a couple minutes ago. Standing in the heavy rain as if he was the lead character in The Notebook.

“Don’t be mad now. I’m kidding,” he says. His voice isn’t as soft anymore; frustrated when he tries again, “Talk to me. What’s the problem?”

“Seriously? I told you there’s nothing.”

“Nah, cut that bullshit. You haven’t talked to me or properly touched me all week. I’m trying my fucking best.”

“I know. This isn’t what it’s about,” you defend, shaking your head, getting to your feet, “but about that insane little stunt out there.”

And the fact that he’s been driving you crazy. The week’s distress mixed with whatever he made you feel yesterday; today’s insanity further adding to it.

When he doesn’t speak, you sigh, waving it off, and opt to walk away. But all in vain.

You make it two steps away from the couch before he flashes up, too; filmesque, you gasp at the strong grip around your elbow, getting a tiny second to process the situation before he’s twirled you around.

He probably didn’t intend it, but you nearly clash against him, stupidly losing your balance and stumbling over his and your own feet. You put a hand to your temples, fearing the worst — what if you fall and clash against the corner of your glass table?

But no. In slow motion, he keeps you in his firm hold, preventing the fall, but still letting you gently drop onto the fluffy, white carpet. Your investment. You’re happy about it now because it caught you the way the wooden floor wouldn’t.

Your movements towards the grounds are slow — or at least that’s what they feel like. But when he appears above you, pinning your wrists to the carpet hard, he’s breathless; and you think that maybe the fall didn’t happen as slowly after all.

“Okay,” he says through gritted teeth. From down here, his jaw looks as sharp as a ship’s deck, the Adam’s apple bobbing when he challenges, “You’re gonna fucking tell me what’s going on.”

Oh. He’s mad.

His eyes are burning, jaw flexed. Defined chest rising in anger.

There’s nothing going on. At least nothing that warrants another fight.

But you don’t tell him that just yet. Instead, all your perplexed mind and tongue manage is, “What?”

“I forgave you. We were both shitty that day, you know? But I still did forgive you, and you’re still being like that.” His knuckles must be paling, because his grip is iron hard. “Why?”

“I—”

“I’ll apologise if that’s what you want. I did, actually. I’m sorry, okay? There. But this is just,” fingers squeeze your wrists, and you hiss, “ridiculous.”

Your following grimace, lips twitching, eyes squinting, go through to him immediately. The hold doesn’t hurt or bother you too much, but the leg between your knees does. Jungkook wouldn’t wound you; he knows his limits.

But perhaps he thinks he’s going overboard when he loosens his fingers, pressing his palms against your skin, rubbing to soothe the missing pain.

He doesn’t quite move away, though, still stubborn when you assure once again, “I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“So you keep saying.”

“I’m not,” you tell him, heart racing at the proximity. You close your legs around his knee, irritated by the barrier. “I promise.”

He doesn’t give your gesture much attention just yet; doesn’t know that his body over yours is exactly what you’ve been craving. But he does understand the sincerity in your voice. Finally.

When he moves closer, pupils melting to fluid gems, you let out an intentional, teeny tiny moan that you’re sure he confuses for a relieved sigh. He moves his palms onto the carpet, caging you in; you keep your wrists where they are, but dig your nails into your skin.

You want to kiss him so badly. You miss him so much.

“Then tell me what’s wrong, angel,” he demands again, quieter and softer this time.

“I don’t know.”

With the fury evaporating bit by bit, his eyes look bigger and rounder again. The desperation of the week gathers in them and his expression, shooting all the way down to his tongue; and when he whispers to you next, your heart collapses, “Please?”

He’s sweet… so utterly oblivious to your true thoughts.

But you couldn’t feel more embarrassed about the pictures you’ve been painting and the words ghosting in that mind of yours. He’d do all of it, no questions asked. But… fuck.

“This is so dumb,” you answer, fingertips dragging down the carpet and then up to his waist, “like… you’ll laugh.”

The touch encourages him. His arms are shaking now, holding him up in this position for too long, and the wandering fingers along his sides and chest must weaken him like his lines affect you.

“That’s a good thing,” he answers, closer than ever when he balances his weight on his arms now, forearms touching the carpet. “I’d rather laugh than fight.”

But the closeness remains for mere seconds before he pulls back again, sitting up with a groan. Hands on his thighs, he lets himself fall on bended knees. He watches your still helpless body on the floor until you work on getting off the carpet, letting him pull you up when he offers a hand.

You ruffle through your hair, legs folding. Your pout is more directed towards yourself than anyone else; you totally realise you didn’t need to confuse him the way you did. Stupid period.

“Listen, I just…” you start, scraping your scalp.

His knees bump against your legs when he drifts closer; there’s something about the two of you sitting on your living room carpet like this.

“It’s just that I want to be able to walk tomorrow.”

And that’s it. That’s literally it.

He halts. His hand was moving up, probably to touch your face, your hair, anything soft to ease the mood. But he cancels the tender gesture, fingers falling back to his knee when he absorbs your words.

Silences with cocked eyebrows. Processes the way you lick your lips and look away, tugging at his wide shirt. And then, once he’s understood, he tsks. Chuckles.

And you, immediately on guard, push lightly against his shoulder, unsurprised when he doesn’t buckle, and defend, “Told you you’d laugh!”

“No, but,” he says, sweet crinkles around his eyes, head tilting and bunny teeth giving way to the prettiest smile in existence, “what are you talking about, hm?”

He knows. If only his feigned innocence was as sweet as his grin, too.

Still, you opt to clarify, “That thing you did yesterday.”

“What thing?”

Ugh.

“The whole modelling thing!” you exclaim, raising your hands. His beam reaches up to his eyes; his occasional giggles are killing you. “Stop. Do you have any clue what you looked like?”

He has the audacity to shrug. “They let me see the pics on their cameras. They’ll come out well.”

“Well? Dude, you looked…”

“What?”

“Dangerous. Like you could eat me up.”

Eat me up might be accurate. It’s the description floating through your little mind since yesterday.

“Ah,” he says, nodding smugly. You know he’s about to tease you. Because— “You specifically, yeah? I was just doing what they told me to.”

“What, is me specifically wrong? Anyone else you’d wanna eat up or—”

“You’re really fixating on that, huh?” Jungkook snickers. His tongue pokes the inside of his right cheek in a brief pause, and then he adds, “You’ve got a point. Didn’t think it’d affect you, though.”

Slowly, but surely, he seems to grasp his own power over you. You think he’s reminiscing about yesterday’s chaos and confidence; maybe even viewing it all from your point of view.

Because his smirk, albeit subtle, is sly when he asks, “What was it like?”

“I…” You click your tongue. “You’ll take me apart if I tell you.”

“Why so?”

“Because.” A beat of silence. You swallow to wet your throat. Then. “I’d ask you to.”

“Ah…” Another understanding nod, as though you’re lecturing him on NASA’s rocket science and he’s finally grasping its meaning. “Yeah?”

“I saw you from afar,” you point into a direction arbitrarily, as if he’s still several feet from you and not mere inches, “and I wanted to,” you inhale when a finger reaches out, straight to a vein in your neck, gentle, exploring, “let you do anything with me that you wanted to.”

“Ohh.” His palm covers your neck, as if he’s coddling you. But you know what that touch will morph into, so you sneak closer to him, lean forwards. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“…Right.”

His thumb moves up and rubs under your jaw, then up your face and to your lower lip. The touch is soft and careful, as though gauging your reaction and searching for permission.

Your shaky, little exhale is nearly unnoticeable, but you know he catches it, and you know he already sees the consent in your eyes. But he still doesn’t lean in. Moves his eyes across your face, to his hand, to your neck and then all the way back to your gaze.

And then, contrasting the loving movements and affectionate gesture, he smiles. Mischief spreads in his stare, and his fingers retreat to the back of your neck, pulling you closer by a miniscule inch.

“So that’s what it was all this time? You’re on your knees for me, is that it?”

“Babe…” You look down, daring a joke. “Quite literally.”

You shuffle in your spot when he laughs quietly, hooking your fingers into the neckline of his shirt. You emphasise, “I mean it. Just… If you must know? I would’ve been okay with handing you all the control, okay? All of it.”

You’re aware you’re acting as though he doesn’t wreck your shit every other time, too. In fact, that’s probably how the two of you started out.

His absolute craze at the frat party, drunk. College nights when you’d confront him about your bullshit — weak excuses to make him press you against his dorm walls. A hand clapped over your mouth, your ass out, dick buried inside until you felt him in your guts—

You’ve always been at his mercy — but you want him to split you in half this time.

“You would’ve?” he repeats. “And now? Still want that?”

You look down again. There’s no shyness in that movement, no averting his beastly eyes — your focus lies elsewhere because you have a theory. Which proves true.

The swelling under his joggers, right there between his legs wasn’t there before.

So you gather your voice, and say, “…Yes.”

“Hmm. Why didn’t you tell me?” His fingernails dig lightly into your skin, and right in the middle of the tension, he pouts for a little moment. “I genuinely thought you were still pissed.”

“I was on my period…” You shrug your shoulders. “It was also late. I was so tired, and—”

He waits.

“I knew that you’d do it if I asked for it.”

“I would’ve.” What’s worse? The confirmation or the tickling breath against your cheek? When did he get so close? “I still would. If you want me to.”

“I just said yes,” you tug at the shirt, eliciting an amused grin as the tips of your noses collide, “you’ll keep asking and,” your heart beats at a million miles a minute, “just not kiss me, is that it?”

Your provocation proves effective just the right amount.

Because he opens his mouth, seemingly snarling — you can’t tell for sure, since his lips clash against yours within half a moment. Determined as his hand immediately flashes to the small of your back, supporting you before you fall backwards on the carpet.

And then he kisses you like a man starved. Like he’s run out of saliva, dehydrated. Seeks your tongue, tastes like earthy Matcha Latte and something you can’t quite define — something that’s so uniquely him.

Your kiss muffles his tiny sound, a mixture of a sigh and a moan, body impatient as he tries to push closer to you, though separated by your clashing knees. You understand — you, too, would let him smother you under his weight if you could.

So you pull your folded legs apart, shifting until they surround him and attempting to straddle him. But he’s plotting something else: his fingers hold your jaw, keeping you in place, and the hot, wet kiss breaks when he pulls away.

You catch a brief glimpse of glistening lips before he moves to trail down your body, leaning in to teeth at your shirt, pushing it off your shoulder and kissing your skin for a fleeting second. And when the shirt shifts back into position, his other hand works on your tits.

Grabs your shirt at its hem, lifting it over your mounds until they’re free, nipples perked, home to him. In a haze, the tip of his tongue touches the right nub, and you shiver.

More so when he whispers, “Am so hard for you, I’ll fucking combust.”

For you.

You’ll repent for how badly you want him in your mouth.

You caress his thigh, sneaking up until you reach the swelling under the fabric. You feel it immediately, firm as a rock, big and fat, so sensitive that he hisses once you touch it.

“No,” he commands, the word barely a breath, “no, no. Don’t or I’ll come like this.”

He says it against your neck. Warm and tickling. You feel goosebumps arise, your reactions slow, but your heart fast. His fingers engulf your wrist, leading your palm to his cheek; you feel the smileless dimple under your thumb when he darts out his tongue to wet his lips.

Then, you close your eyes; the pecks against your neck are exhilarating. The moving touch, down to your tits and then back up to your jaw is one of his favourite games; you move your hips against the carpet, soaked panties sticking against your pussy.

“You’re…” you start, fingers in his fluffy hair as he bites your nipple. You moan, your words shaky, “You’re— more into this today.”

“I mean… after everything you just said to me?” He chuckles, moving up, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His mouth brushes yours.

“And I missed her.” Free hand between your thighs, he taps just over your clit; your lips part. “Too crude to say I can’t wait for her to swallow my cock?”

Well. Fuck.

If it wasn’t him, you’d cringe. But it is him, and the truth is that you’re dying for him to press himself onto you. To wrap himself around you, to wrap yourself around him.

You want him to cut you in half, want to be his little toy until you can barely stand.

“Maybe,” you tell him, “but I promise that she wants it, too.”

That’s it, that’s it.

It’s when teeth meet again, the kiss messy, your arms around his neck. He holds you by your waist, pulling you off the floor a little, readjusting his position, so you can climb onto him.

You tilt your head as far as you can, taking him in, drooling, lips and tongue moving wildly to taste all of him. His digits wander from your back to your ass, pushing between your cheeks and pressing against your clenching hole.

The gesture is short lived, but enough for you to rub against him. The urge to rip your panties and part your folds over his girth is profuse; to dampen his length and empty his balls just like this.

But he clenches his jaw, groaning. Halts your movement with a strong grip before pulling at your hair without breaking the kiss. You move your fingers up and down his arm, and then dash it upwards to bury them in his locks, too.

Only, instead of reaching his mane, your hand hits the glass table on your left; you grunt into the kiss and then move away to exclaim, “Ah, fuck.”

Jungkook must’ve heard the sound because he catches on right away, laughing. Gently, he pushes you off his lap, gets back on his knees and then up. He pulls you with him as he says, “Alright. Get on the couch before you hurt yourself.”

“Couch?”

You’re surprised; not the bed this time, is it?

Then again — Jungkook isn’t necessarily picky when it comes to this; cue flashback to bathroom adventures.

So you still listen. Wobbly legs drag you to the sofa, plumping onto it as you watch him follow. The bulge is huge, hotter than hellfire when he palms it and lets go again.

“Too damn lazy to get to the bedroom,” he declares before dropping back on his knees.

You thought he’d climb over you, push you back across the length of the couch. But instead, he seems satisfied with your helpless position, pushing back the carpet and table some to take a seat right in front of you.

You admire his patience — the outline of his cock presses against its confines. Does it not hurt? His expression doesn’t reveal any discomfort as he adjusts against the hard floor; the carpet barely provides any relief.

But the discomfort doesn’t redirect his focus, his touch heading towards you, urging you to remove your joggers at turtle’s pace. He throws them over his shoulder and onto the table, one leg of them dangling off of it.

Left in your panties, you watch his hands curl under your knees, freeing his way to where you want to ache. Lifts your legs, places them on his shoulders carefully, amused and delighted when your bent limbs drag him closer to your cunt.

His tenacious tongue peeks between his teeth, and he fondles your thighs before he reaches the hem of your panties. They bug him — separate your heat from his mouth; in this moment, a crime to him.

“Help me here real quick,” he whispers, and you raise your ass, letting him drag the underwear off of you.

It sticks to your pussy for a second, obscenely flooded with your gradually building arousal. You think he sees, because he halts for a second, eyes flitting up to you before he says, “I think this’ll be fun.”

“You promise?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

Well…

You shrug your shoulders, but smile tellingly, eliciting a smirk that decorates his gorgeous face, closing in bit by bit. The cool air evaporates the nearer he draws, replaced by his hot breath.

And then… just to test…

He darts out his tongue, the sharp tip of it tickling your clit. Your reaction, much desired, stirs a new type of appetite in him. Because your chin trembles just once, just for a moment. Lashes flutter, and his heart skips a beat.

As he inhales, but never exhales, you question, “What?”

“Nothing,” he assures, blowing against your sex, “just. So very pretty.”

You look down at him. His shoulders look broader from here. Muscular, hair dark and silky. His lips are colourful, handsome, nose ready to bury in your pelvis. If he thinks you’re pretty, then he’s the definition of true aesthetic.

Slowly, you reach for his hair, brushing through it before you bring his head closer to you, hinting at the obvious, and say, “And you.”

“Not like you, though…”

He waits, allowing the both of you a moment of preparation.

And then… he’s kissing your pussy. Lightly at first, up and down, a hand on your inner thigh that moves closer and closer to your folds.

He sighs once before a digit parts your nether lips sticking together, and then licks a stripe between them. You whine quietly; his eyes close. He’s beautiful like this; in a minute, he’ll look at you again, mouth swollen, and you’ll wish for his touch to last and last and last…

“Please,” you only whisper, but he doesn’t answer.

Instead, his sweet kisses turn into something more. Way more wetness, way more tongue. And before you know it, he’s splitting your legs wider, pushing in to start devouring you.

Your moans are intoxicating. They’re sudden, but not surprising, voiced against the ceiling when your head falls back. The heels of your feet dig into his back, pushing him closer when his knees are already touching the couch.

The movements of his mouth are warm, a waterfall. He eats you out until he’s slurping, drenching you further. He’ll slide in effortlessly, you already know. Will bury every single inch of himself inside you, fill you up for the rest of the day.

And your high — it builds up embarrassingly fast. Perhaps because it’s been a while; or maybe because it’s Jeon Jungkook you’re dealing with. Either way, your lower stomach aches, the knot pressing against your guts.

“Kookie,” you murmur, yet again left without an answer.

He knows not to break his focus this time; knows that you’re close, recognises it in your grip around the patch of his hair. Hears it in your desperate whimpers, louder by the second. Words more unintelligible now.

Your thigh is twitching every now and then, quivering, and he takes it as a sign to keep sucking and swirling. Then flicks his wet muscle over your engorged clit, adding to your exclaims when his nimble fingers glide into you swiftly.

Too swiftly. Two of them are barely enough; and he adds a third. Your cheeks heat up, body sliding down — partly because you’re dying inside, partly because he’s pulling you towards him.

Jungkook knows how to navigate your body, how to direct you towards a rationality-breaking explosion. And he does. He does with the plethora of lustful licks, softly circling around your clit. His nose presses against it every time he shifts downwards, tasting you thoroughly.

“I’m almost—” you voice, and he hums, vibrations torture.

It’s a game to him that he’s skilled at; he understands his moves, and he never loses. Neither today as he clamps his hand onto your waist, fingers pumping in and out of you, curling and digging, massaging your favourite spot.

They turn and twist, two fingers of his free hand settling around your clit and raising it for better access.

It takes probably half a minute longer… and then… then…

Your voice grows in pitch, nearly illegal for a Sunday afternoon, but music to his ears. So genuine and sweet. Corners of your eyes glistening. He holds your legs apart as you start begging, but all he truly makes out is the eager repetition of his name.

He wishes your shirt didn’t cover your upper body; wishes he could see the heaving of your chest, the perked nipples, the sweat on your clavicles.

But for now, this is enough.

The way he sees waves of pleasure wash over you, eyes rolled back, not looking at him anymore. Your lips are dry, your tongue probably, too, and he wants to kiss it wet again.

You moan and wince and keen, body restless. The tug of his hair becomes more prominent and palpable, but the sensation makes him smile. You’re probably barely noticing, too.

That is, until your hold and breathing finally calm down. You keep riding the wave, your head turning in odd circle-ish shapes. He kisses your pussy, helping you through it, only stopping when you open your eyes.

“Well, that was…” he says, lips as swollen as you anticipated, shimmering, “a good start.”

“Every single time,” you begin, panting, shaking your head. You watch him as he gets on his feet, moving in to your mouth. “Every single time I think it can’t get better, and then I remember it’s just the fucking beginning.”

He shifts to you slowly, grazing your lips, and declares with a soft smile, “More to come, I promise. Gonna have so much fun with you.”

“Do your worst—”

One more kiss. Shorter this time, but you recognise the familiar, lingering taste immediately. Neutral, not too bad. Fills you with pride, because he never fails to guarantee that he loves it.

But you can’t wallow in it because he retreats quickly, impatient hands freeing his golden body from his clothes. The shirt falls somewhere next to the carpet, his own joggers soon discarded, landing on top of yours and sliding to the ground together.

He’s a menace when he climbs onto the couch, knees digging in and creating a shift on each side of your body. His bulge, still hidden behind his boxers, floats in front of your face; from this close, you see the droplet of precum darken a spot of the light purple cotton.

“Next stage?” he wonders above you, stroking your hair gently, as if he’s not about to explore the back of your throat. “Want or do I rather not?”

“What do you mean with not?” Your breathing is heavy as you lift your palm and engulf the imprint of his dick. He flinches, hips moving back a bit before they come back. “Get this shit off.”

He chuckles. Brings his hand to your cheek, thumb caressing it and voice clear when he says, “You’re so cute. Being demanding and all.”

But he still listens. Gets off the couch, slides his underwear off, leaves you gaping.

Gaping at the hooked and girthy tower. Gaping at how the slit on top of his head glimmers. Gaping at the moles along the stiff length, staring at the thick veins, at the full, firm balls.

“Tongue out,” he orders; you do.

The ink-free hand pushes his dick down to you, tapping it against your tongue as you open up wide. He feels heavy, hot, the skin smooth. Your head moves forward to swallow more, but he pulls back.

Strokes himself for a couple seconds, thumb spreading the precum over his head. You drool. Watch attentively, as though you’re learning — until he eventually guides it back to you and positions it into your still gaping mouth.

Enters it slowly. Slightly salty. Then says, “Breathe. And don’t overthink it too much.”

Huh.

Well. Damn.

Because…

At times, you do worry about your expressions; about your tears when you gag around him, the coughing fits you get in the middle of it all. So that’s a surprise. Attentive.

But your mind is blank today anyway; so you nod, moving to lick the underside of the tip, and he laughs, mumbling, “Alright. Have it, babe.”

And you do.

Slowly at first, cautious as you twirl your tongue around him. You don’t notice much discomfort just yet, thankful that he’s easing you into this. A third of his length buried inside, you close your lips around him and hollow your cheeks.

Which is probably when the invisible threads holding him back finally break.

“Okay,” he says, “you got this.”

His knees move in, more inches intruding. His fingers drift to the back of your head, and you dig yours in his brawny thighs. He grows harder in your mouth, impossibly bigger the more you drag your lips along his member.

How gratifying. You’ve craved this for hours and days. What was your argument about again?

Your head drops further back when he shoves himself inside, more and more as time passes. You imitate his prior advances — hum and close your eyes. Bring a hand to the base of his cock, pumping all that you won’t be choking around.

When you gaze up at him to analyse his reactions, he leaves your mind vacant. Because his head is raised, like yours, jawline edged and acute. Mouth open until he meets your eyes.

You hope he’s seeing something just as lascivious and mind-numbing from his perspective. Maybe messy hair, laying against the softness of your shirt. Or a cock appearing out of and disappearing behind pretty lips.

Slowly blinking eyes that shut just as slowly again, and a tongue that falls out and licks along a vein whenever your head moves to the side. Allowing you a couple deep breaths.

He must be perceiving it all, too.

Because a moment later, he gnarls, like a wild animal, and states, “This won’t do—”

—Before putting both hands under your ears, holding your head and…

Ramming his cock into your mouth.

You gasp around him, taken aback and delighted at once. Feel the effect between your legs, hoping to not defile the couch too much.

Head still thrown back, falling further, you already feel the ache in the back of your neck. Your attempts of holding onto the couch prove futile because there is nothing to hold onto, armrests too far away; so you return to his thighs.

But he keeps your body steady, held at the spot between his legs. Your head is a different story: it bounces back and forth, the exhales through your nose frantic as he pounds into your throat before he slows down again.

“Good, gooood,” he drags out, observing the glistening veins as he draws back to his tip and then moves in again. “Doing very, very well. Looks so gorgeous, baby.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about — about you, his cock, the position. Everything?

He keeps up the gentler pace, allowing you a break. Allowing himself the pleasure of this very image. Pretty lips surrounding a pretty dick.

And perhaps your desperate, little moans, accompanied by rapid blinking, set a fuse loose in his brain.

Because a moment later, Jungkook dares a step further — cock already stuffing your entire mouth, he pushes in more. The fat monstrosity reaches far, your gag reflex not as much at bay anymore as before.

The view seems to spur him on, though, and you can imagine why. If you were him, you’d probably enjoy the drooling mess under him, too. Salivating all over his dick, you feel the gross drop of your spit land on your clavicle, throat constricting as he thrusts in.

And just when you’re about to tap his thighs — very reluctantly, too — to catch your breath, he pulls back, fingers immediately digging into your cheeks to straighten your neck and head. You cough, eyes teary, your breathing quick and uncontrolled.

Like a toy, he moves your head to the left, to the right, a sly smirk playing around his lips until he moves down to you, back arched. Amidst your panting, he presses a brief kiss to your mouth, slippery against the dampness.

And then he says, as casually as he shouldn’t, “You’d look so beautiful in leashes.”

“…What?”

But he ignores your mumbled inquiry, instead thumbing at your lower lip. His dark eyes flit from one facial feature to another, pink lip caught between his teeth. The firm chest rises dangerously when he breathes in.

“Should I come in your mouth?” he asks as if you’d ever say no; as if you don’t know that he’s asking because he won’t. “Huh? Shoot it all the way down your throat?”

“Do it, fucking coward.”

…And just like that, he moves back.

tumblr is cruel and the 1k block limit in the new editor won't let me post the entire thing at once lol so here's the rest in a reblog!!! <3

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #bts fic #jungkook scenario #jeon jungkook smut #thebtswritersclub #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook

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oreoluvskento · 10 months ago

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hate sex w nanami

a/n: uhhhh heres that hate sex fic i promised two months ago :D my bad yall i got really busy and lost all motivation to keep writing on here, but i'm back now :)

cw: female reader, wrote this with black reader in mind but no mention of specific race, NOT PROOFREAD, no use of y/n, cunnilingus, overstimulation, cum swallowing, brat tamer nanami, brat reader, im very horny, that should be me honestly

"fuck, what are we doing?" you ask as you and nanami kiss feverishly. he climbs up onto his desk with you, laying you down onto your back roughly.

"don't know," he growls, his hand coming up to cup your jaw as he kisses his way down to your neck. your eyes widen as he bites you, and you feel your knees go weak when he pushes his thigh against your throbbing core while sucking your neck at the same time.

"i thought you couldn't stand me," you moan, rutting yourself against him, to which he groans at. he reaches down and tugs your pants off, your legs kicking them away.

"i can't," he answers, now tossing your underwear to the side and kissing his way down your thighs.

about two minutes earlier, you and nanami were just yelling at each other about your recent mission. you had a plan and nanami completely disregarded it for it's lack of, well, planning. you were more erratic and spontaneous, wanting to go with the flow, while nanami was more calculated and careful, always wanting to stay organized.

you barged in immediately after your checkup with shoko, still fuming because he ignored you when you tried to ask him on your way back about why the plans changed. you complained to shoko about it, to which she said "instead of yelling at me, why not go yell at him," to which you took literally.

nanami didn't acknowledge you once ever since you came in, which infuriated you even further. although his face was stoic, a slightly noticeable vein was popping out of his forehead and his fingers were gripping his pen tighter.

you spun him around in his seat, still complaining in his face, your noses almost touching, which ended up being his last straw. "you are incredibly childish, irresponsible, and i simply have no respect for you at all! you endanger our lives every time we go on a mission together, but all you can think about is how much fun you're having! you're selfish, and honestly a little bit dense, and i wish you'd shut up and leave, you're disturbing my peace."

your eyes widen as he speaks, his voice barely raising but his anger clearly showing. "you can kiss my ass." you grit and the look of disgust that appears on his face makes you even angrier. before you can say anything, he beats you to it.

"please leave," he says, standing up and now looking down at you.

feeling stubborn, you stand your ground and cross your arms. "no," you childishly protest and he leans his head back with a sigh.

"leave or-"

"or what?" you interrupt, moving closer to him and something in the atmosphere changes. for you it could've been the way he looked at you with such an intimidating expression, one that made you submit almost too quickly. for him it could've been the way you were pressed up against him, your chest against his and your pelvises almost touching.

before you could process what was going on, you were sitting on his desk, his lips attacking yours furiously and you were kissing him back.

his mouth is now on your pussy, eating you out like you were his favorite meal, his anger fueling his actions. "fuck don't stop, it feels so good," you moan and nanami grunts against your clit.

"stop fucking talking," he growls, his tongue darting back out to play with your clit and you slide your hands into his hair.

"fuck...you," you respond, breathless as he continues to mercilessly eat you out. nanami sucks your clit into his mouth over and over again, essentially treating it as a pacifier, and just when you think you're about to cum, he stops and inserts two fingers inside you.

"who knew something so sweet could come out of someone so bitter," he teases, watching as your pussy swallows his digits. you're unable to speak properly, your mouth open mid gasp and your back arching off the table. nanami speeds up, the sound making him even harder, and you finally gain your ability to speak again.

"shut up and eat- oh fuck- me out," you moan, pushing his head back onto your pussy and he complies, slurping away what has been produced by his ministrations. you choke on another moan and rut your hips against his face, to which he responds by holding your hips in place with his free hand. now completely controlling your pleasure, nanami fingers you faster, the tips of his fingers constantly brushing against your g-spot and before you knew it, you were having an orgasm.

you struggle to stay quiet as your body lights up but you find it difficult as nanami refuses to let up, his fingers fighting against your constricting walls and his tongue still hard at work on your clit. as you come down, you truly start to feel the overstimulation and try to pull away. "mm mm, stay right here. you should've left when i told you to. now it's my turn," he says, muffled by your pussy and you cry out when he starts sucking your sensitive clit again.

"please, its too much, i can't," you plead but it falls onto deaf ears as he goes on. nanami adds another finger and your eyes roll to the back of your head, the stretch adding a new sensation to focus on.

"if only you were as obedient as your pussy. look at how she sucks me right in," he coos and you subconsciously get tighter at his teasing. he chooses not to say anything about it yet, and focuses on stretching you out for his dick. your breathing picks up and nanami recognizes the cues for your next orgasm so he dives back onto your clit, spitting on it and slurping it loosely.

you cum unexpectedly this time and nanami keeps fucking you through it, your body thrashing against his hold. he finally pulls away from you, sitting up to look at your blissed out face. you open your eyes when he grabs onto your jaw with one hand and prods at your mouth with the other.

"open," he commands and you do as he says, the fuzz in your brain stopping you from thinking clearly. he puts his fingers into your mouth and you moan as you suck away the mess on them. he pulls you off the desk and leans you against it, your upper body folded over it now.

he pushes his clothed erection against you from behind and groans when you push back against him. nanami thinks about teasing you some more but he has a meeting with yaga about your partnership soon and he's racing against time. he quickly pulls his dick out, the tip turning slightly red as it's been begging for attention sine he kissed you.

your head is down when he pushes into you and you snap it up when you feel the way it stretches you out. a high pitched moan escapes you and nanami slaps his hand over your mouth while pulling you up to talk to you. "shut up, i'm not even all the way in yet," he rasps and you et out a sound of desperation.

once he bullies the rest of his cock inside of you, he pulls out and snaps his hips back into yours, and if it wasn't for his hand on your mouth, the entire academy would've heard the moan that came out of you. nanami sets a relentless pace, his anger towards you growing the louder you get.

"you really don't know how to be quiet, huh?" he growls, pushing all the way into you, shimmying his hips to get deeper, and you fall over, stopping yourself from moaning this time. tears come to your eyes and he fucks you deeply, the pleasure too much for you to handle and your knees going weak. nanami realizes you effort and scoffs to himself. "so you do know how to follow directions? i knew it wouldn't take much to put a brat like you in her place," he says and nod furiously, not even sure of what he's saying.

he speeds up now, his eyes fixated on the way your ass jiggles every time he thrusted into it. your pussy begins squeezing him like it did earlier but nanami isn't having it. he pulls you up by your hair and grabs you by your throat. "you'll wait, do you understand me? hold it until i say you can cum," he instructs and you let out a whine in protest. ultimately, you listen, and although it was extremely hard to focus on not cumming, you succeed.

nanami takes the hand on your throat and begins rubbing your clit with it. "make sure you stay quiet just like this. go ahead and cum for me," he says and not even a second later your gushing all over his dick. he moans out curses as you cum, your pussy holding onto his dick and when you're done, he pulls out. he yanks your shoulder and pushes you onto the ground, and you catch on, taking his dick in your hand and stroking it.

this is your first time seeing it and god was it big. you take the tip in your mouth and bob your way down his shaft, wanting to feel it in your throat. nanami moans as you suck him off and before long, he cums in your mouth. you swallow it as it comes and when he's done, he pulls you back to your feet. he carries you onto the desk and rubs the side of your hips as he comes down from his own high, his head on your shoulder.

"i'm sorry for barging in here and acting an ass," you say softly and he chuckles, his head still down.

"i'm sorry for calling you childish, irrisponsible, selfsih-"

"alright, i get it you're sorry!" you interrupt and he laughs a little harder. he stands up, tucks his dick away, and helps you put your pants back on before giving you a bottle of water and watching you leave.

later that day, during his meeting with yaga, at which he wanted to request a partner switch, he decided on sticking with you for just a little longer.

#jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #jjk smut #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #nanami x black reader #nanami x black!reader #jujutsu nanami #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #nanami x reader smut

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quillkiller · 4 months ago

Note

Remus and lily are best friends what are you on

listen yall need to grow the fuck up and just accept that some people simply wont agree with someone else’s made up hc <- just like you’re not agreeing with my hc, which isn’t a even a hc, because there’s nothing in canon saying they were ’best friends’

#some of yall are children i swear #just because something is widely popular doesn’t make it canon #and you’re being so childish arguing with a random girl on http://tumblr.com/dashboard about having a hc different from your own #LIKE WHAT IS THISSSSSS 😭😭#sorry for being mean but my patience is wearing so thin and this is so fucking stupid #id respect someone asking me about this more if there was actual canon evidence of them being ’best friends’#<- but even if there WAS im still allowed to explore and expand their characters from the subtext i read into #asks

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mxnhoo · 5 months ago

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hopeless daydreams (l. hs)

synopsis : and they were roommates~ genre : romance, fluff, angst maybe, roommates to lovers !!!!, talkative x listener kinda, childish x mature LOWWWKEYYY, concert romance TEEEHEEE, word vomit cos i just wanna write pairing : heeseung x reader (mentions of yichan & chungah from twinkling watermelon, mentions of newt from the maze runner, chan from skz) w/c : 6.8k warnings! : SOME twinkling watermelon spoilers, name calling (attention whore etc), LMK IF I MISSED ANYTHING OUT a/n : plot is LOWKEY inspired by watermelon sugar by wonryllis, check it out it's genuinely amazing! main character is inspired by me cos i'm insanely delusional😚 can u tell i love confession tropes. ALSO i think this is fr the last thing ill post in a while cos of school, so hope this feeds yall well

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Lying on your bed, you were kicking your legs as you were watching the new episode of Twinkling Watermelon. The room was dark as the light wasn't turned on, the only source of light being your phone and the only sounds that could be heard were your giggles, and the audio from the drama.

It was the scene where Yichan brought the cat to Chungah.

"I'm afraid you'll be alone. I specifically chose a cat that looks like me" Yichan said as he pointed to his mole, Chungah looking at the cat who has a similar mole placement.

You paused your phone and squealed, covering your mouth as you giggle, kicking your legs even more.

"I'm afriad you'll be alone, specifically chose this cat that looks like me!" you imitated, lowering your voice to match the actor's one, laughing at yourself afterwards as you hit the mattress repeatedly.

Before you could continue watching your drama, knocks were heard on your door causing you to shoot your head up towards your door.

"Come in." you voiced, slightly annoyed that your drama-watching session was interrupted.

Your door opened, and without warning your light was turned on, flashing your eyes and you groan as you shut your eyes, looking away.

"God.. how can you see like this?" a daily voice spoke out.

You slowly opened your eyes, adjusting to the new lighting as you turned to the person.

"C'mon Hee, you could've warned me before you turned on the light..." you sighed. You looked at your roommate, which was Lee Heeseung, and he could be seen folding his arms, leaning against the bed frame with his eyes slightly frowned.

He completely disregarded what you said, "Time for dinner."

You groan once more, but quickly responded as you got off of your bed, dragging your feet towards him. Your hair was slightly messed up from laying down all day, and you scratched your stomach. After turning off the light, you and Heeseung walked towards the shared dining table, seeing all the food being placed and prepared.

"Sweet! You cooked fried rice?!" You squealed, the pitch of your voice increasing and you ran to the dining table, quickly sitting yourself down as you smelled the scrumptious aroma of the food.

"Mhm, your favourite." Heeseung said, setting himself on the opposite side of you on the table.

You looked at him, giving him a big smile as you quickly grabbed the metal cutlery on the table, preparing to indulge in the food. He returned a small smile as he looked back down on the food, doing the same as you.

"Let's eat!" you announced, digging your spoon and fork into the dish, bringing a big portion to your own plate and consuming it.

You could hear Heeseung giggle at you as you quickly devoured the food, him slowly taking his own portion and eating at his own pace.

"So how's Twinkle.. Sparkle whatever Watermelon going?" Heeseung asked, raising his eyebrow at you and your eyebrows raised, excited to talk about the details of the new Twinkling Watermelon episode.

You were about to speak until he stopped you, "Chew first, your mouth is full". He chuckled at you, tilting his neck as he watched you struggle to chew your food faster. Once you gulped your food down, you drank the cup of water that was nicely prepared already, you heaved a sigh of relief.

"Okay! So—" You rambled on about the new Twinkling Watermelon, using a lot of hand gestures and hitting the table in excitement once you brought up cute moments, like the cat scene you saw just now.

"Let me imitate the dude!" you said before clearing your throat. "I'm afraid you'll be alone, that's why I specifically picked a cat that looked like me" you imitated once again with your lowered voice, laughing afterwards at how stupid you felt.

Heeseung only looked at you and smiled, head tilting as he rested his head on his hand. He wasn't even eating, just watching as you talked about something you loved so much.

"And do you know how they confessed their feelings?! They were alone in a band room, and the dude was looking at her sketchbook, and he suddenly found a sketch of him!!" you said enthusiastically, pointing at him as he continued to listen to you. "And then he asked her in sign language — not really sign language, but like he asked her if she liked him! And I was expecting her to deny her feelings BUT SHE NODDED?!?!" you raised your voice, giggling violently afterwards.

"Really? What do you mean by 'not really sign language' though?" Hee asked, still staring at you, smirking.

"Oh! Like he asked like this!" you replied, afterwards doing handsigns.

The first handsign was you pointing towards Heeseung. The second handsign was you holding up a heart with both hands. The third handsign was you pointing towards yourself.

"Ahhh, and then she nodded after he did that?" he asked, understanding the context better.

You nodded aggressively at him, happy that he made an effort to understand the significant scene you could talk about for days.

"Let me try." Heeseung said, his facial expression becoming serious as he sat up straight, gaze locked onto you.

Using his hands, point to you heart point to himself

You furiously nodded your head and flashed him a smile, "Yes, exactly like that! That's one way to be romatic—" giggle "oh man, it seriously makes me so delusional." You giggled to yourself, and Heeseung raised an eyebrow at you, grinning.

"Enough talking, eat your food." Heeseung nagged before he spooned up some of the food and held his spoon up to you, raising his eyebrows to indicate you to eat it. You casually let him feed you, and you chewed the food.

"Hank yu!" you muttered in an attempt to say 'thank you' while your mouth was filled.

After both of you finished eating, you initiated to wash the dishes — after all, Heeseung was the one who cooked. Heeseung sat on the couch to scroll his phone as you washed the dishes. Since it was late at night, you announced that you wanted to take a shower.

"Oh dang, I haven't taken a shower too.." Heeseung mumbled, his eyes looking at you, signalling you to let him shower first. You gave him an irritated look, pointing at him "You literally could've showered while I was washing the dishes????".

"Oopsies. I forgot." Heeseung shrugged his shoulder, holding his hands up as you looked at him with an annoyed expression. You both instantly knew how to settle this — who would win the ability to shower first. Settle it right here, right now.

"Scissors, papers, stone!" you both chanted at the same time, throwing out a hand sign at each other.

Heeseung held up rock. You held up scissors. Rock beats scissors.

"Fuck yeah!" Heeseung cheered before he quickly snatched his towel from one of the corners of the living room and dashing for the bathroom, slamming the door loudly and locking it. You rolled your eyes and sat on one of the chairs near you, holding up your phone to scroll through social media.

This was your life. Wake up, school, go out, watch drama, eat dinner and occassionally play fight and eat dinner with Heeseung. Of course you did chores around the house too, but if anything, you were a full-time fangirl. You were a fangirl to all sorts of things.

You loved reading manga, comics, Webtoon, fanfiction; watching shows, J-Drama, C- drama, K-drama, anime; loved boybands whether they were English, Korean, Japanese; and practically just everything.

Heeseung on the other hand didn't really like anything specifically. One thing in particular though is that he enjoys music, like a lot. He listens to his own artists, but would listen to the music from your favourite boybands with you.

However, one thing that Heeseung absolutely disliked were your boyfriends. He once commented, "are you dating or doing charity work?" when you brought one of your boyfriends back home, and you always brushed it away, defending your boyfriends with all your might.

Spoiler alert! Your boyfriends always end up being trash.

Once, a boy broke up with you because his parents found out and his parents didn't allow him to be in a relationship, like seriously? Are you a toddler? Another time, a boy broke up with you and the reason was actually valid, but a weeks after he ended up dating a boy. Like it had you questioning. Were you that bad that they moved on quickly AND they switched up? You always ended up crying to Heeseung about it, and no matter what, he was always there for you, even if it was your fault for ignoring all the red flags.

This time, you have another boyfriend and you actually feel like he could be the one. But remember "Wake up, school, go out, watch drama, occasionally play fight and eat dinner with Heeseung" from a few paragraphs ago? The fact that you always eat dinner with Heeseung is kinda weird, 'cause you could be having a dinner date with your boyfriend or something, but it never could happen because apparently your boyfriend had 'night duties' to do. You didn't want to be pushy, so you never questioned it and lived with it, even if it kinda made you feel lonely. But at least Heeseung was there with you, so it's okay in a way?

After a while, you heard the bathroom door unlocking and you tilted your head up, watching the door open as you saw Heeseung walk out, shirtless with a towel covering his lower body. His hair was still wet and dripping, his torso still slightly glossy from it still being slightly wet. His body was well-defined since he had been going to the gym recently, and for some reason, you just couldn't take your eyes off of him. He quickly noticed you staring, and giggled.

"Ain't gotta stare like that.. I know I look good." he giggled, resting his hands on his hips as he smirked, looking back at you.

You quickly realise that you were staring at him and that you were caught, making you look away. "You're so full of yourself.." you rolled your eyes, trying to cover up the fact that you were just looking at him. It was normal for Heeseung to be walking around shirtless sometimes, but you don't know why this time he seemed a bit more attractive than usual. Mentally you were cursing yourself for checking Heeseung out, but there was just this thing with him that made you feel so flustered.

Trying to brush your thoughts away, you quickly snatch the towel that was on the table near you, walking past Heeseung into the bathroom, trying to avoid looking at him at all costs. You were about to close the door until Heeseung spoke out.

"Movie night?" he asked. You peeked your head out of the door before you nodded your head. "Okay." he responded, and you closed the door, locking it afterwards. You stared at at the bathroom mirror before you ruffle your hair in frustration, screaming silently.

"Why did I have to look at him? Why did I have to stare at him? He's always shirtless, why did I just have to stare this time? Am I cheating? Wait fuck no, I don't even see Heeseung that way. Oh my god" you sceam-whispered to yourself, taking deep breaths as you stared into the mirror after aggressively messing your hair up. You sighed in defeat, and started stripping to shower.

After you had finished your shower, you wrapped a towel around your body and quietly unlocked the bathroom door, peeking your head out to see where Heeseung was. After looking around, you notice the back of head appearing on the couch. You tried to tip-toe back to your room when he called out to you. "Done? Took you long enough." he teased, you stop moving and turned to him. He wasn't facing you, so you took the opportunity to hold up your middle finger and curse him off, whispering a very aggressive 'fuck you!' only for you to hear.

You entered your room, quickly dressing up and ruffling your hair with a towel. After a while, you stepped out of your room and joined him on the couch.

"Hey." he greeted you, putting his phone down to look at you up and down. This time, he had a shirt on so you felt more at ease.

"Yo." you smiled at him, trying to feel less awkward. You made your voice lower in an attempt to sound 'cool'.

".. What are you doing with your voice" he judged you, breaking out into laughter, and you joined him, the atmosphere being less tense and awkward. Thank god it's not awkward like just a while ago.

"Shush, stop judging." you playfully smacked him on the shoulder and he smiled, looking at you.

"Okay okay, so what movie we watchin' tonight?" he asked, picking up the remote as he turned on the TV and entered Netflix.

"Can we watch The Maze Runner?" you asked, looking at the TV screen.

"Let me guess, it's so you can see Newt again?" he asked since a few days ago you both already watched The Maze Runner. "............ maybe...."

He sighed before pressing a few buttons on the remote. You got comfortable beside Heeseung on the couch, slightly leaning your body on him. Some may say that it was weird at how you two were close, but this was a norm for the both of you. You knew Heeseung before all of your other boyfriends, so you and him inevitably had a strong bond. He turned on the movie that you had requested, and he quickly turned to you to flash a small smile.

"Thanks Hee, you're the best~" you giggled, locking your gaze onto the TV screen.

There was a silence as the movie started, and you were thrilled to rewatch your favourite movie and also see your favourite character. (newt girlies rise!)

"I just realised we don't have any snacks for the movie." he said, breaking the silence as he shot his head to you. Dang, you were so excited that you forgot one of the most very important things while watching a movie — snacks.

"Ah shit, do we even still have any snacks left?" you took the remote to pause the movie, setting your feet to the floor and standing up. You walked towards the pantry, and opening the cabinet, you are met with nothing. "Dang, we're really out." you groaned.

"I'll go downstairs" he said, getting up and walking to his room, probably to get his wallet.

As he entered his room, you sighed and you walked back to the couch, sitting down on it again. You waited for Heeseung to come out and he was now wearing a cap, jacket and holding his phone and wallet. He was making his way to the front door until you called out to him, "Let's go together." You don't know why but you just wanted to go. For the snacks, am I right? No it was for Heeseung.

Heeseung slowly turned around to face you, amusement showing on his face. "I'm not complaining, let's go," he said while holding his hand up and curling his wrist, telling you to get up. Still staring at him, you quickly got up and walked towards him. Once you both were side-by-side, you both started walking to the front door and he took his key that was hanging, opening the door.

It was dark and chilly. The walk to the nearby convenience store was silent, and once you both reached it, you looked at him and he looked at you.

"I'll get the drinks" "I'll get the snacks" you both said of the same time. You said drinks, he said snacks.

"It's settled, I'll pay this time." he smiled and you returned it. "Okay," you replied softly before turning your back and walking towards the drinks section.

Once you were at the drinks section, you opened the glass door of the refrigerator and took a bottle of Milo, a blast of cold air slapping you. You shivered a bit, and you instantly closed the door. Before you could walk over to the soda's section for Heeseung's drink, you saw someone familiar, and to your surprise, it was your boyfriend.

"Chan!" you called out without hesitation, running up to the boy. However, he wasn't alone..? The boy immediately turned around to where your voice sounded, and his eyes widened when he saw you, and he blinked rapidly. He quickly whispered something to the person he was with before you stood right in front of him, and now you both were face to face.

"Who's this?" you looked at the person beside him, and it was a girl. You raised an eyebrow and you started to feel uneasy.

"S-someone from my school. We were just doing a project I swear." the nervousness in his tone was obvious, making you feel uneasy. You didn't accuse him of anything, so why was he being so defensive? And why does he not look happy to see you?

"Uhm.. okay." you responded, your heart starting to feel slightly heavy as you started to overthink.

"Well! What are you doing here, then?" he asked, and you could see him start to sweat. You raised an eyebrow at him, occasionally looking at the girl beside him who was desperately trying to avoid eye contact with you.

"Um.. I was getting snacks with Heeseung." you replied, trying to cover up the fact you felt slightly jealous and hurt.

"Oh. Heeseung." his face suddenly darkened.

"Got a problem?" someone voiced behind you, and you instantly turned around to see who it was, and it was your roommate. Your roommate did not look happy at all, his eyes glaring at Chan as he held bag of chips in his hand.

"Hey, you're done?" you ask Heeseung, trying to clear up the tension. Once he looked at you, his gaze softened and he smiled at you, "Yup, got the snacks you liked, you done with the drinks?". You shook your head, "Nope, I was about to get your drink until I saw Chan". Immediately at the mention of your boyfriend's name, his smile dropped, and he looked back at Chan.

"Doing your 'night duties' in a convenience store with a girl I see?" Heeseung taunted, clearly angry at Chan. You looked back at Chan and he was returning Heeseung the sour look, and now the only thing you had to worry about is if a fight was gunna break out.

You whispered to Heeseung, "Hee.. stop..", but he ignored you. "Are you sure that it's right to be hanging out with a girl who isn't even your girlfriend this late at night?" he striked once again at Chan, and you could visibly see Chan get angrier, his jaw clenching.

"It's none of your business, besides, aren't you doing the same thing?" Chan retorted back. Heeseung scoffed and his tongue poked his cheek. "It's different. Me and Y/N are roommates. What's your excuse?" he fought back.

You whispered again, the anxious feeling inside you growing even more, "Hee.. stop.. please..". Chan smirked, "Oh yeah? Are you sure you only see Y/N as a roommate? I see the way you look at her, you want to snatch my girl away from me, right?". You looked at Chan, features of worry on your face.

"So what?" Heeseung voiced. You widened your eyes and looked back at Heeseung, not able to process the information you were hearing. "I'm her roommate, yet I treat her better than you. You're her boyfriend for fuck's sake." You couldn't just stand there and do nothing. With your free hand, you grabbed Heeseung's arm and pulled him to the other end of the store where the paying counter was. You aggressively snatched the snacks that Heeseung was holding and placed them down along with the single Milo bottle that you got. The cashier gave her colleague a side-eye, sensing the tension between you and Heeseung, scanning your items afterwards. You paid despite Heeseung initiating to do so earlier, and after your items were packaged in a plastic bag, you quickly snatched it and grabbed Heeseung's wrist, pulling him out of the store.

Once the two of you were out, you glared at him but he looked back at you with a soft expression. The sun has completely set, the only source of light being the street light.

"Are you feeling cold?" he asked genuinely, zipping down his jacket and removing it. Before he could wrap it around you, you smacked his hand away and stepped back.

"Hee, what was that about?" you asked coldly, features of anger on your face.

"What do you think?" he raised an eyebrow before continuing, "I was basically letting your boyfriend know how shitty he is." You wanted to slap Heeseung, but in the corner of your eye you saw Chan and the girl exiting the store. You quickly called out to Chan and waved, and Chan approached you.

Chan spoke up, completely ignoring Heeseung who was giving him the death stare, "We're still on this weekend, right babe?". He purposely spoke louder so Heeseung could hear him loud and clear. You nodded, smiling at him. Chan leaned in to peck your lips before leaving, and you were in a daze as you watched him leave. Chan was still beside that girl, but you could care less.

From your way of thinking, if Chan pecked you, he definitely loves you because he was giving you attention.

You look back at Heeseung and his facial expression showed he was displeased. Your smile drops and you walk ahead, not wanting to face Heeseung.

"Why him? You definitely know that the girl he's with right now is not just some 'project partner'." He voiced out loudly, causing you to stop walking. He continued, "We've been through this before Y/N, don't hurt yourself again."

You immediately turned around, "Hee, you can't control who I get together with. I'm happy, okay? I'm happy with Chan." You turned back, walking to your apartment without looking back at Heeseung.

As you were walking back, you couldn't stop thinking about what had just happened. You admit, you were happy that Chan kissed you, but you had so many questions.

Why was he with that girl late at night? What happened to his 'night duties'? Why did he say that Heeseung wanted to steal you from him?

You reached back your apartment, and you were about to unlock the door until you realised you didn't bring a key. You groaned in frustration because now you had to wait until Heeseung was back, and you also had to face him. You sat on the floor beside your door, throwing your head back to recall the conversations that happened just a while ago.

You were about to get lost in thought, until you heard footsteps approaching you. It was Heeseung, and he was holding the key. He seemed pretty shocked to see you, and he definitely wanted to talk to you, but he couldn't find the right words to say. He unlocked the door, and you immediately went in, trying to avoid him. "Y/N" he called out to you, but all you did was ignore and slam your room door. Heeseung felt guilty and he wanted to talk to you, but considering how you couldn't even face him, he just thought that he should give you a day or two.

The next day, you still ignored him, and he was getting bothered by it but he didn't want to rush you. Everytime he tried to touch or talk to you, you would instantly walk away and go into your room. Instead of eating dinner together, you would eat instant noodles in your room, leaving him alone on the dining table. Showers were never a problem because you always showered when he was still out in school.

Basically, you and Heeseung never talked, and the tension was suffocating. Finally, the weekend came and it was a day that you had been looking forward to for the longest time.

It was the day that you and your boyfriend were supposed to meet. You wanted to surprise your boyfriend with concert tickets of his favourite artist, and you were excited to see his reaction. Heeseung knew you were going out with Chan from the time at the convenience store, but didn't know any details. You didn't want to tell him because you both were not on good terms, and even if you two were on good terms, he would still nag at you.

Your plan was to bring Chan to a cafe nearby the concert venue, and then you'll show him the tickets and bring him to the concert. You had kept it a secret from him for 4 months, and you were imagining his reaction. Maybe he'll hug you, kiss you, pick you up and carry you, who knows?

You sat in the cafe, all dressed up. You did your hair, make-up, and chose an outfit following the concert's theme. You were waiting in the cafe, frequently picking up your phone to check the time. 3pm was the meeting time, and it was currently 2:56pm. You tapped your feet, fidgeted with your fingers and hair, and kept looking at the door everytime it was opened. You waited for 4 minutes and no one came.

"Maybe he's just late?" you mumbled, an uneasy feeling growing inside of you. You quickly texted him,

y/n : channie y/n : are you reachingg?? y/n : i cant wait for you to be here hehe

You waited for a response, but it never came. You waited a few minutes, and those minutes quickly turned into 10 minutes, 30 minutes, to an hour. Did you just get stood up by your boyfriend? You called him multiple times, but your calls were all unanswered. You were about to start crying until you got a phone call back. You immediately looked at the screen, and read the caller ID.

" HeeHee(seung)! "

Feeling completely detached from reality, you just picked up, ignoring the fact that you and him were on bad terms.

"Y/N, where are you?" he sounded breathless, and you felt confused. "W-why..?" your voice cracking, tears still building up in your eyes. "Please, let me go to you." If anything, you would've ended the call, but you were so hurt at the fact that you got stood up by your boyfriend that you didn't care anymore. "I'll send you my location." you said before hanging up and sending him your location.

After 10 minutes, the cafe door opened and a figure ran inside, panting loudly. The figure caught the attention of everyone in the cafe, and it was your roommate. Heeseung frantically looked around until his eyes met yours. His eyes were full of concern, and seeing you, he immediately ran up to you and grabbed your shoulders.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

You wanted to say yes, say you were fine, but you were not. Tears broke free from your eyes and you sniffled, hyperventilating as you start to cry. You cried out loud and Heeseung wiped your tears, looking at you with such worry. Everyone in the cafe was glancing at you but neither you or Heeseung could give a fuck. Heeseung brought you into an embrace and patted your back, whispering sweet-nothing's into your ears. The warmth he gave you was so comfortable, and you felt guilty about being so cold to him.

Your cries continued, but after 15 minutes, you slowly started to calm down. Heeseung's shirt was drenched with your tears, and realising that your breathing started to slow down, he gently moved backwards from you. He then sat on the chair opposite of you, where Chan was supposed to be.

"Y/N." he called out, causing you to look at him. Your nose was red, and your eyes were glossy and puffy.

"You're safe with me, okay? I'm sorry for what I did earlier this week." his voice was gentle and comforting.

You slowly nodded, unable to speak after crying for a long time.

"But, could you tell me what happened exactly?" he asked, and you were pained at remembering that your boyfriend had stood you up.

"Chan." you managed to say after a while, "He stood me up."

Heeseung was about to speak, until you continued, "I was supposed to surprise him to a concert today. I've been waiting for so long to surprise him, and he doesn't turn up?".

"I've waited so much money, so much time." you said, voice cracking towards the end.

"You and me, let's go to that concert, okay? When is it?" Heeseung said, causing you to raise your eyebrows.

"It starts in.." you checked the time on your phone "12 minutes."

Heeseung's eyes widened before he stood up, pushing the chair he was on backwards, and he took your hand that was resting on the table. "Then we have to go, now!". You blinked rapidly, clearly confused, but you slowly stood up. You took your bag that was on the chair and looked at him. You both left the cafe, and both started sprinting for the concert venue. Laughs filled the air, and you interlocked your hands with him. You had to get past a lot of people, and after 10 minutes of running, you reached the venue with him. You both were laughing while panting at the same time, your hands resting on your knees. It was almost as if you didn't ignore him for the past few days.

"C'mon, let's go in! You have the tickets right?" he asked, equally as breathless as you. You nodded and rummaged through your bag, pulling out a pair of tickets and handing it over to him. He held your hand again and pulled you to the entrance gate of the concert, showing the security guard the tickets and bringing you in. As soon as you and Heeseung stepped into the standing pen, the bright light in the venue that was flashing instantly disappeared, darkness filling the whole room. Loud cheers could be heard, and you joined in as well. The concert was starting, and even though it wasn't with the person who failed to be there, it was the person who never failed to be there.

5 songs have been played, and it was currently a ment where the artist was talking to the audience. Heeseung looked at you, and happiness was taking over you as if you weren't just crying your eyes out a while ago. Suddenly, music started playing again, and the artist yelled, "Everybody here with their partners, hold onto them tight for this song!". Without warning, Heeseung wrapped his hand around your waist, pulling you closer, and your eyes widened. You remained completely still, processing what just happened. With the song starting, Heeseung slowly swayed side-to-side, and you followed him. Your heart fluttered at his cuteness, and you put your arm around his waist too.

You couldn't focus on the concert, you were just thinking about the boy beside you. Was he your roommate, or was he someone you liked? Right now, the warmth you felt in your heart was like no other. The feeling in your heart was something new, and it made you feel so confused, flustered, excited, and all sorts of things. You were just crying about Chan and ignoring Heeseung just a while ago, but now you were holding onto him, so what happens now?

You glanced at Heeseung and to your your surprise, he was already staring at you. His stare was intense, and you also noticed that he was looking down on your lips.

"Y/N." he called your name, and it made your heart skip a beat. "I know you're still dating Chan and that you're still angry at me, but I really want to kiss you right now. Can I do it, please?". Without saying another word, you turned your body to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him for a kiss.

His soft lips met yours and it was almost as if it was only the two of you there, becoming completely unaware about your surroundings. Both of your eyes closed, tilting your heads to get more access. His hands went up to cup your face, bringing you closer, your heart now racing as you melted into the kiss.

After a while, you pulled back and rested your forehead against his, looking directly into his eyes and smiling. "I wanna stay like this for a while" you mumbled, and he looks back at you, giving you such a loving gaze.

"Me too."

It was the end of the concert, and you were now hand-in-hand with Heeseung. You checked your phone to see 19 notifications, and it was from your boyfriend — well, soon to be ex boyfriend..

8 Missed Calls

channie! : u fucking bitch channie! : u got heeseung to beat me up didn't u?? channie! : you're such an attention whore channie! : u only asked him to do so because u were jealous of that girl right channie! : that mother fucker left me in an alley way channie! : i admit channie! : i've been cheating on you with her

And before you could read the last few messages, you showed your screen to Heeseung. At first, Heeseung was afraid that you'd be hurt by Chan's words, but all you asked was, "You beat him up?" with your face completely unphased.

"....Yeah.... Don't get me wrong! Today, I saw him.... kissing that girl from before, and I just had to do something, y'know?" he pouted, not wanting you to get angry at him again and becoming all defensive.

You laugh at him before squishing his cheek. You looked back at your phone screen and clicked on Chan's notification, reading the last few messages you missed out on.

channie! : you're so overbearing channie! : she's way better than you channie! : i'm breaking up with u btw lol channie! : you'll never find anyone like me

You smirked, rolling your eyes before quickly letting go of Heeseung's hand to type a reply.

y/n : that's a relief y/n : bye

You snorted and showed Heeseung your reply, him giggling afterwards. You turned off your phone and inserted it in your pocket, holding Heeseung's hand again. The atmosphere was so loud, considering that the concert just ended and there were hoards of people trying to leave, but with Heeseung with you, you felt protected.

"I really looked like an idiot, didn't I?" you referred to when you were crying your eyes out for Chan before the concert. "Yeah, but a pretty idiot." "Oh? Mr Flirty.." you chuckled, blushing at his words. All your anger for him had vanished. "No but really, you look so pretty with that hairstyle.. that makeup and outfit." he said, looking the other way to avoid eye contact. It was dark, but the streetlight was making his redenned ears obvious.

You both continued to walk hand-in-hand, finally walking to an area that had lesser people, making the atmosphere calmer.

"How do you feel about me?" you asked.

There were seconds of silence, and you were about to apologise for such an abrupt question, until he spoke up.

"I feel crazy over you. I was going insane over the fact that you were having all these other boyfriends that treated you like absolute shit when I was right there. I could've been giving you wanted, Y/N. I enjoy every single moment with you, and that means a lot considering we literally live with each other. From those moments we go grocery shopping, to when we have movie nights, to when we fight over the smallest shit, I really enjoy all of them."

You nodded at his response, a smile creeping up your face. You interlocked your hand with him and squeezed his hand.

"How about you, Y/N?" he squeezed your hand back.

"I feel safe with you. I've had many partners, but they never made me feel as comfortable as you make me feel. I just assumed that it was because we're roommates, and that we feel close to each other since we see each other everyday, but I don't know.. I've always secretly craved for something more." you confessed, feeling embarrassed that you were completely vulnerable right now, but you wanted to be honest.

"That makes me feel so happy." he smiled at you, and you returned the smile.

"I'm sorry for being so cold to you this week." "It's okay. I understand."

After a while, the two of you finally returned home. Earlier expecting to be brought home by Chan, you were instead brought home by Heeseung, and it made you feel more content.

"I'm gunna go shower.." you told Heeseung, walking towards the bathroom.

"Can we shower together?" he asked, and you turned around, you looked at him weirdly with an eyebrow raised. "Weirdo.." you reply. "Whaat??? It's not weird at all!" he fought back. You rolled your eyes and snickered, walking into the bathroom.

A week has passed since you had broken up with Chan, and well, since you and Heeseung confessed to each other. In the dorm, you and Heeseung got even closer, sleeping together on the same bed every few days and having movie nights more frequently, but you and him never made it official. Both of you were honest about how you felt, so does that mean you two were dating? But nobody asked the big question, so does that mean the two of you were friends.. with benefits?

You were in class and it was the only thing you could think of, making you irritated. You couldn't focus, and if you went home to relax, the person making you lose focus would be there. As soon as the lecturer announced that class was over, you quickly closed your laptop and packed your bag, dashing for the door. You dashed home, praying that Heeseung wasn't home yet and wanting to just sleep your worries away. Since you and Heeseung were living in dorms, the time taken to walk back home wouldn't be long, so after 10 minute of walking, you reached the front of your door. You pull out your keys and unlocked the door, opening it and stepping foot into the house.

The first thing you noticed was the aroma. It smelled sweet, like.. chocolate cake? You loved chocolate cake. You quickly locked the front door behind you and put your shoes on the rack, stepping into the kitchen when you are met with a cake set on the table, "Will you let me be your boyfriend?" written with icing and flower petals around it forming a heart shape. Your heart instantly melted.

Suddenly, you heard a scream behind you and you instantly turned around, a confused look plastered onto your face. The scream came from Heeseung, who was just leaving his room and his eyes widened.

"HUHHH?? YOU'RE BACK HOME ALREADYY???" he whined, dropping a letter on the floor.

"What's all of this?" you giggled.

"I WANTED TO SURPRISE YOUU.." he whined again, fake-crying.

You giggled at the sight in front of you. Usually Heeseung put up a mature front around you, but you couldn't help but find this side of him extremely adorable.

"Well, that's unfortunate" you giggled, amused at how his face became fully red in an instant. You walked up to him and held both of his hands.

"So, what were you going to ask me?" you raised your eyebrows, anticipating to a specific phrase you've been wanting to hear so badly throughout the entire week.

He sighed, looking away since he felt embarrassed that his surprise failed. He mustered up the courage to look at you and finally ask the big question, "Y/N, will you let me be your boyfriend?"

You hummed, looking up to the ceiling, portraying that you were 'thinking', but you only wanted to tease him. You felt ecstatic that it was all going to be official.

"Don't tease me!" he whined, feeling impatient.

"Maybe.... yes?" you finally replied, and he looked at you with such a jubilant expression. He pulled you into a kiss, his hands wrapping around your waist, and you kiss him back.

"I'll treat you so well Y/N, better than all those bastards and those characters you fangirl so much over, okay?" he pulled back, cupping your cheeks.

You nodded and leaned in once more for another kiss.

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emmylksblog · 4 months ago

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I’LL COME BACK BABY // H.FORT

the night before hector leaves to usa. based on this request.

genre: fluff

warnings: none

a/n: he played so well that i couldn’t help but write about him 😮‍💨 also we have more content about him yall edit girlies should be working 🫡

Hector and you sat on your couch, a cozy atmosphere filling the room. Soft music played in the background as you cuddled together, enjoying each other's company. You rested your head on his chest, tracing patterns on his shirt with your fingers. "I'm going to miss you while you're away," you said, looking up at him with a small pout on your lips. Hector smiled and wrapped his arms tighter around you. "I'll be back before you know it amor," he replied, kissing the top of your head.

"But it'll still be a week without you," you said, pouting even more. You knew it was childish, but you hated the thought of being apart from him even for a few days.

Hector chuckled and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face. "I'll be thinking of you every single day," he assured you. "And I'll call you every night, I promise.

You took a deep breath and snuggled closer to him, taking comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Just promise me you'll be careful over there," you said quietly.

Hector tilted your chin up and looked into your eyes. "Of course, amor. I'll be playing in a friendly match, what's the worst that could happen?" he asked with a chuckle.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help smiling at his nonchalance. "Don't jinx it," you replied, poking his chest. "I would never forgive you if something happened to you."

Hector pretended to be hurt, clutching his heart dramatically. "You wound me, amor," he said with a grin. "You really don't think I can handle myself?"

You smirked. "You can be pretty reckless sometimes," you said, recalling all the times he'd come home with a bruise after a particularly aggressive match.

Hector laughed, knowing that you had a point. "And I always survive," he said, shrugging. "I'll be fine, I promise. Just worry about missing me."

Hector could see the worry still present in your eyes despite your smile. He brought your face closer to his and gave you a soft kiss. "Amor, I promise I'll be fine," he said, trying to reassure you again.

You took a deep breath and nodded, forcing your worries aside. "I know baby, I know," you said, resting your head on his shoulder.

He stroked your hair and held you close. "Just think about all the fun we'll have when I get back," he said, trying to distract you from your worries. "We can go out to your favorite restaurant, go on a weekend getaway..."

You smiled, imagining all the things you could do together once he was back. "I like the sound of that," you replied, feeling your anxiety slowly dissipating.

Hector gave you a mischievous grin. "And I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun making up for lost time," he said, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

You felt a blush creeping onto your cheeks at his words. "Hector!" you exclaimed playfully, lightly swatting his chest.

Hector laughed and pulled you closer. "What? I'm just saying what we're both thinking," he said, nuzzling your neck.

You rolled your eyes, pretending to be annoyed, but secretly relishing the feeling of his touch. "You're terrible," you said, biting back a smile.

You looked at the clock and realized that it was getting late. "You should probably get some sleep cariño," you said reluctantly. "You have an early flight tomorrow."

Hector groaned and pulled you closer to him. "But I don't want to leave you yet," he said, pouting dramatically.

You chuckled at his pouting. "Don't worry, I'll join you in bed too," you reassured him.

Hector perked up at your words and a smirk appeared on his face. "In that case, let's go to bed immediately," he said, standing up and scooping you up into his arms.

You let out a surprised shriek as he carried you bridal style towards the bedroom. "Hector, put me down!" you protested, half-laughing.

He just chuckled and shook his head, continuing to carry you until he reached the bed. He laid you down gently before climbing in beside you and pulling you close.

You snuggled into his chest, feeling safe and comfortable in his embrace. "You're such a menace," you said, shaking your head.

Hector just laughed and buried his face in your hair. "But you love me anyway," he said smugly.

"Unfortunately," you muttered, though there was no heat behind your words.

Hector chuckled and kissed the top of your head. "You're stuck with me, amor," he said, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Despite your teasing, you couldn't deny the way your heart rate quickened whenever he was near.

"Just promise me you'll come back in one piece," you said softly, your worries surfacing again.

Hector hugged you closer, rubbing your back reassuringly. "I promise, amor. I'll always come back to you," he said, his voice firm and sincere.

You took a deep breath and nodded, trying to find comfort in his words. "I love you," you said quietly.

Hector's hold on you tightened at your words, and he nuzzled your hair. "Te quiero," he whispered, his voice low and heartfelt. "More than anything."

You snuggled closer to him, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. "Hector?" you said suddenly.

"Hmm?" he replied, not opening his eyes as he continued to hold you.

You took a breath, not quite sure if you wanted to ask the question that was on your mind. "Will you still love me when you come back?" you blurted out, unable to stop yourself.

Hector opened his eyes and looked down at you, his expression serious. "Of course I will," he said firmly, cupping your face in his hand. "Why would you even ask that?"

You looked up at him, your insecurity clear in your expression. "But there will be so many pretty girls in America," you said quietly. "What if you meet someone else and forget all about me?"

Hector chuckled at your words, finding your insecurity endearing. But when he saw the look on your face and you turned away from him, he quickly realized that you were actually upset.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you close to his chest. "Amor, you have nothing to worry about," he said gently, nuzzling your neck.

You stayed silent, biting your lip as you tried to suppress your doubts. Hector continued to hold you, tracing soothing patterns on your skin with his fingers.

"You really think I could forget about you that easily?" he asked, his voice soft but with a hint of amusement. "Have you seen yourself, amor? You're the most beautiful person I've ever met, inside and out."

Hector pulled you even closer, enveloping you in his warm embrace. "Don't worry anymore, amor," he whispered. "You're worrying me too."

You took a deep breath, feeling a sense of reassurance wash over you. "Goodnight, cariño," you said, finally relaxing against him.

He reached over to turn off the light, plunging the room into darkness. "Goodnight, amor," he replied, kissing the top of your head.

You were abruptly woken up by a loud thump and a few muttered curses coming from the bathroom. You sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you tried to orient yourself.

Panicked, you searched for Hector, hoping he wasn't already gone. When you heard him shuffling around in the bathroom, you quickly got out of bed and walked towards it.

You barged into the bathroom and immediately enveloped him in your arms. "Why didn't you wake me?" you asked, your voice a mix of surprise and frustration. "I wanted to say goodbye."

Hector wrapped his arms around you in return, a mixture of guilt and tenderness on his face. "I didn't want to wake you, amor," he said softly. "You looked so peaceful asleep."

You kissed him gently, your lips lingering on his for a moment. "Let me help you finish packing," you said, taking his hands in yours. "It'll go faster, and I want to make sure you have everything you need."

Hector smiled and squeezed your hands, grateful for your help. "Okay, amor," he said as he picked up the items he had dropped earlier.

You stood by the front door, Hector's manager waiting just outside. You couldn't help but poke at him one last time. "Are you sure you have everything? Your passport, wallet, keys...?"

Hector rolled his eyes playfully, feigning irritation as he checked his pockets for the thousandth time. "I have everything, amor. I swear."

You laughed and gave him a gentle nudge. "You forgot something, though," you said, a sly smile on your lips.

Hector raised an eyebrow, looking slightly suspicious. "Oh, really? What did I forget?"

You leaned up on the tips of your toes and whispered in his ear, "Good luck kiss?"

Hector chuckled and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. "How could I forget that?" he replied, his voice mischievous as he pressed a deep, lingering kiss on your lips.

For a moment, the world around you faded away, and you lost yourself in his embrace. But eventually, he pulled away, breaking the spell.

He kissed your forehead gently before reluctantly stepping back. "I'll make sure to call you every night amor," he said, his voice a little hoarse.

You nodded, a bittersweet smile on your face. "I'll be waiting," you said quietly.

Hector gave you one last lingering look before turning to leave, his manager waiting patiently outside. He looked back at you from the doorway, giving you a small wave.

You waved back, watching as he disappeared down the sidewalk. A pang of sadness hit you as you closed the door, feeling already lonely without his presence. But you took a deep breath, knowing that he would be back soon.

#hector fort #hector fort x reader #hector fort x you #fc barcelona x reader #fcb x reader #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #marc guiu #marc guiu x reader #pablo gavi x reader #fc barcelona

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amphitriteswife · 1 month ago

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Jaegyeon na dating headcanons! Sfw and Nsfw

I was too impatient to finish the other ones so yeah-

@yue-yolk

_______________

✨ Dating Jaegyeon na means you’re dating the definition of a mood swing. Sometimes he’s all flirty and confident, the other he’s childish and whiny.

✨ He likes it if you ask him to drop you off somewhere or pick you up. He shows off Initial N and calls it his ‘baby’. Don’t call it junk or he’ll lose his shit.

✨ Loves shopping. If you tell him you’re shopping he’ll either ask to go with you or invites himself. Usually ends up buying expensive clothes and necklaces. They’re not for you though. This one’s for him. He’ll buy yours next time

✨ ‘hey Y/n get me ice cream’ ‘no get it yourself.’ ‘Could’ve told me to cut off my balls as well.’ He takes little things seriously. Not always but usually. Sometimes its for comical reasons and sometimes he’s just insecure

✨ fragile masculinity. He’s the type to freak out if you call him pretty boy because ‘he’s not pretty. He’s handsome.’ He thinks of himself as very manly man.

✨ LOVES kissing. Doesn’t even have to be intimate, he just likes kisses or kissing. You did something nice for him? He gives you a kiss on the forehead. He missed you? He kisses your cheek. He just feels happy? He’s placing his lips on yours. They’re not always super long, sometimes just a peck.

✨ very active on socials. He watches your stories everyday and likes your every post. Always responds to them too, sometimes goofy and sometimes serious. Or its just an excuse to text you. ‘Babes plz buy me that too i want to be matchy.’ ‘Babee who’s that in your story?’ ‘Stop putting DG in your story his music isn’t that good. I’m better looking.’

✨ He’s a jealous boyfriend. No matter what gender or who it is he’s still jealous. He’ll also get defensive about it and start sulking if you point it out. He doesn’t want you to know that he’s sometimes feeling like that.

✨ babe. Who is that in your instagram story?’ ‘Thats my best friend. You met her.’ ‘Okay but even so why am I not your only bestie????’

✨ ‘babe why are you saying happy birthday in your story?’ ‘Because one of my friend is having their birthday.’ ‘Okay but you didn’t even congratulate me today too?’ It was in fact not his birthday he just wanted attention.

✨ Attention seeker. Man cannot stand you having eyes for someone else, well just being very close to someone that isn’t him. He wants to be your bestie and boyfriend. Just like how you are to him. He wants to be your number one. Just like how you are…together with Initial N.

✨ You can see him kissing his car sometimes. He’s not even embarrassed by it, but he does make it a point if you say that it’s disgusting. ‘You’re just jealous that i kiss my baby a lot….i love you dont leave me.’

✨ NEEDS to sleep in your bed. He hijacked it. He thinks your bed and house is more comfortable than his so he sleeps over a lot of times. He likes snuggling up to you though, especially in the winter

✨ if he’s at your house he makes himself comfortable very fast. Its yalls house now. He usually goes into your closet or looks trough most of your stuff to see what you do and don’t have

✨ He does online shopping a lot, mostly buys clothes or unnecessary and stupid things since he’s rich and has money to waste. This time he did buy you things too.

✨ Likes outgoing dates, he likes parties, clubbing and concerts but also enjoys museums, markets and cinema’s. Anything you like too. He’ll probably make your hobby his own so that he can see you get happy about it.

✨ He probably does car racing in his free time and usually takes you with him. Most of the time he only watched and just stays by your side. If he’s out racing and sees you with another guy, he’ll get jealous and give you the silent treatment

🔞 Man’s a horny dog okay? He’e not always like that but sometimes. Sometimes it can get real intimate. He’s not ashamed by it either. And if you match his freakiness its even better

🔞 Calls you ‘princess’ or ‘queen’ depending on which one you prefer. He takes pride in it if you like the nickname too and uses it regularly. But usually his voice is soft and a little hoarse when he does.

🔞 He might moan his own name or Inital N during sex on accident. It’s an honest mistake okay? ‘Ugh King you’re doing great.’ ‘The hell????’ ‘Sorry babes I got carried away’

🔞This man is sensitive asf. Touch his body with your hands. He loves it. The way your hand glides across his skin and squeezes his muscles…the way your lips press against his neck and whispered against it…he might come only by that.

🔞 definition of a switch but is definitely leaning on a little more bratty sub side. He will not listen to you. He’ll act super childish and selfish about it too.

🔞 car sex. And no he’s not fucking initial N. It’s with you in the car. He gets off if he thinks about you and him doing it in the car, don’t ask him why he doesn’t know it either. Don’t stain his seats tho, but he’ll definitely do it in the backseat or while he’s driving.

🔞 receiver. HEAVY receiver. Make him feel good. He’ll be at your mercy if you do it. Do anything to him. Gag him while you ride him. Choke him while you kiss him. Make him cry out your name out of pleasure

🔞 praise kink. Whisper those sweet seductive words in his ear and he’ll crumble right under your nose. He’ll beg and cry if you ask him too. Make him feel as if you’re the only one who can do this to him.

🔞 suck him while he’s driving. The mix of arousal and self control with trying to keep his eyes on the road will definitely make him feel hot.

🔞 He cums a lot. And fast. You’d only have to touch him and you’d already see the wet spot in his pants along with a tent. Make him stroke himself trough his pants because you refuse to touch him anymore and you’ll see him absolutely flabbergasted

🔞 he might have a thing for if you slap his face. He likes it if you handle him roughly because he’s been a brat. Put a gag in his mouth and you’ll get extra points. Man handle him please

🔞 loves Handjobs, he thinks it’s super hot or he’s lowkey embarrassed. Don’t ask him why he’ll get defensive, but he 100% likes the feeling of your hands stroking his sensitive skin

Thank yall for reading 🥶🙏

#lookism headcanons #lookism hc #lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #lookism fanfic #lookism jaegyeon na #jaegyeon na x reader #jeagyeon na #lookism x reader #lookism x you #dating hcs

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pascals-doll · 9 months ago

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—★ GATÚBELA

╰┈─➤ IN WHICH ELLIE GOES TO A PARTY AND FELL IN LOVE WITH A MYSTERIOUS GIRL.

—★ READER INFO

LOYAL, FIERCE, AND ALLURING

─◌✰್ READER’S MOODBOARD

you were always sticking to what you knew, cautious of change which always created inner-conflict for yourself which is probably how you ended up in this situation. you found yourself with a cheating boyfriend and it just takes one night for your bestfriend!dina to take you out to reggaeton party, bumping you into the perfect stranger.

early 20s reader! reader is latina!, no specific-latina ethnicity identified just race (very little is written around certain mexican culture/heritage!!), mentions of tan skin-tone, references to latina beauty, tatted!reader, reader speaks spanish!!, mentions of catholic/hispanic religion, reader wears alot of bold eye makeup/cateye makeup, references to being like catwoman/ a femme fatale, reader wears la virgen/statement hispanic gold jewelry/medallions.

—★ ELLIE WILLIAMS INFO

TOUGH, PLAYFUL, AND EASYGOING

─◌✰್ ELLIE’S MOODBOARD

one night ellie is coerced by her bestfriend!jesse into going to a house party his friend was dj-ing. ellie was usually always away from the riled up crowds, smoking, mindlessly flirting with some girl if she got lucky while her bestfriend had some girl shaking it on him. jesse must’ve dragged ellie to just the perfect party, a reggaetón party where ellie isn’t in the back anymore.

early 20s!ellie, masculine!ellie, tatted!ellie, ellie learns about latino heritage/spanish, ellie having admiration for reader’s ethnic beauty!

—★ SERIES MASTERLIST

🫧 description: MODERN AU! SMUT/SUGGESTIVE CONTENT IN CHAPTERS, FLUFF, MENTIONS OF TOXIC EX RELATIONSHIP, IDENTIFICATION OF SEXUALITY , PARTYING, DRINKING, SMOKING MARIJUANA, VIOLENCE IN CERTAIN CHAPTER, SLIGHT MENTION OF BLOOD IN CERTAIN CHAPTER, INTENSE THEMES, ANGST, TALK ABOUT HOMOPHOBIA IN HISPANIC FAMILIES IN CERTAIN CHAPTERS.

🫧 LATINAS FOR ELLIE WILLIAMS RISE

🫧 THIS MY FIRST SERIES!!! PLEASE BE KIND AND I HOPE YALL ENJOY 🩵

🫧 this story has a whole ass playlist tbh on my spotify so i only put a tracklist so you could get a vibe of the storyline!

—🎧📼 MIXTAPE | GATUBELA -KAROL G ELLA ME LEVANTO -DADDY YANKEE 8 AM —YOUNG MIKO CLASSY 101 - YOUNG MIKO CONTIGO - KAROL G TE AMO -RIHANNA FINA- YOUNG MIKO Y BAD BUNNY DISPO-KAROL G Y YOUNG MIKO AGOURA HILLS -DOJA CAT OYE MI AMOR -MANÀ LES-CHILDISH GAMBINO LAND OF THE SNAKES- J.COLE MOONLIGHT -KALI UCHIS \\AGUARDIENTE Y LÍMON %ᵕ‿‿ᵕ% -KALI UCHIS

🎀CHAPTER ONE: GATÚBELA

🎀CHAPTER TWO: CONVENIENCE STORE

🎀CHAPTER THREE: DISPO

🎀CHAPTER FOUR: AGORA HILLS

🎀CHAPTER FIVE: coming soon…

#ellie williams #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #lesbian #ellie williams fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fandom #ellie tlou smut #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams smut #ellie williams series #DOLL SERIES ♡¨*:·. ｡#♡¨*:·. ｡series masterlist

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4pfsukuna · 10 months ago

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Kings get jealous too

Yall voted and honestly the thought of Jealous!sukuna was tooooo good to not write. Reader is black (happy black history month btw). Sukuna does not like to share… or have anyone touch whats his why would a king have to?

The vibrations of my phone for the 3rd time was finally begining to annoy me so with eyes still closed i reach around the bed only to slap something warm and firm.

“Still here sweetheart” i hear the raspy voice of sukuna i dont need to look at him to know hes smirking and my eyes shoot open making direct eye contact.

Finally reaching for my phone hoping to get some sort of clarity i see 100 missed calls, 43 text messages, 17 instagram post. The safest option was to go through my messages as i try to gain memory of why this idiot was in bed next to me.

“Oh sweetheart do you not remember?” He chides cockily and i sit up seeing a picture that nearly killed me. My tongue out… against Sukunas sternum in a secluded corner of the club with him smirking devilishly at me and the next of him carrying me out his hands firm on my ass.

The club.

The club!

Housing yuji had been no problem at all, owing a favor to Gojo i was glad when this was all he needed. Yuji itadori was sweet kind always cleaned after himself and was a genuine pleasure to have around even cooking when away on missions.

The issue? The fact that he was a vessel for a 1000 year old king of curses that was a complete pain in the ass who gets a thrill out of you especially finding out i was kazumi Honoka and had i not resented my family could easily match Gojo or top him . The Honoka clan known for the most powerful flame and fire weilding sorcerers every few generations, squeaky clean image rich and arrogant just as the other powerful clans.

“Sukuna the only reason your not dead is because i havent found a way to exercise you from yuji i know for a fact i could kill you” i seethe only to be met with silence. I hated being ignored and he would do it on purpose as if his pathetic ass being housed by a child was better than me. Growling i pull a dagger from my waist band and swing it at Yuji necks who looks at me in fear but Sukunas mouth breaks through his neck biting the dager making it crumble into a million pieces as if it was nothing more than a cracker.

“You dont even know how to fully weild your cursed energy sweetheart, i could have you dead in 10 seconds and with the remaining 9 dance over your corpse” his mouth cackles from the side of Yujis neck.

This was a typical tuesday morning for us.

“Yet you’re only a pathetic excuse of what you used to be. King of curses yet you’ve been trapped inside of yuji for years how lame” i degrade a sneer on my face as i adjust my shirt.

“I— should we do something about this” Megumi ask from next to Nobara on the couch who looks concered and ready to break us up but not sure how plates of breakfast getting cold. It wasnt even 11am yet.

“No. This is a typical Tuesday it’s kind of like foreplay for them. Usually she ignores him or teases back unless she had a difficult mission” Yuji informs them before shoving another pancake in his mouth and of course he noticed the differences in our interactions i was the only one Sukuna really interacted with anyway.

“How was it?” Nobara looks at me and i sigh. I nearly died because i lost my footing tripping over my own tube of fenty lip gloss, how could i ever admit that.

“Pffft, struggling with a puny curse yet you think you could take me on? You make me laugh, brat” and thats what makes me lose it and ignite the fire flames on my hands my eyes matching as i do cause a groan from Yuji.

“I havent even finished breakfast yet can i atlea—“

I cut him off.

“Release him” i fume cracking my knucles making the flames bigger my breakfast completely forgotten about.

“Yeah release me brat so i can finally have my moment with her” he snaps back at yuji and this time I smirk the fire on my hands dulling.

“If thats what you wanted that’s all you had to say, it’s childish to be mean to a girl you like. Unfortunately you’re not my type” i grin patting Yuji cheek where Sukunas mouth was only to feel his sharp teeth nip at my hand.

“Youre nothing like the women i had keeping my bed warm just like you’re silly little technique you wouldnt know what to do with me” he chides back the two on the couch getting whiplash from how fast our conversation changes and how quick our comebacks are for another.

“See, foreplay” Yuji utters to them as he finishes his plate of pancakes satisfied with his belly being full leaning back on his seat.

“Well we were going to celebrate you getting back and figure you could use a night out since returning from your mission, but it looks like you definitely need it” Megumi speaks up motioning between myself and Yuji.

————————————————————-

Giggling with Nobara as we take a 6th shot of casamigos to see who would tap out first watching a woman try to flirt with Megumi who's completely oblivious or just awkward at flirting.

“What's the deal with you and Sukuna? Girl to girl like i didn't even know he spoke unless he had full control” she prys bumping my shoulder which i roll my eyes at. “Please Yuji told me how he always has an eye on you, always ask about you when you're not around and flirts with you relentlessly”

“He also pesters me” i add sipping the lemon drop the bartender placed infront of us mentioning it was on the house.

“Anything to keep your attention” she smirks while taking another shot. “It’s why he’s taken over Yuji yet instead of burning the entire world down he’s watching you”.

And he is, black tattoos adorned his body as he sits on the sofa eyes piercing through the crowd focused directly on me. Maybe it was the curiosity maybe it was the alcohol but i was tempted to test her theory.

Swiping another coat of lipgloss over my lips and adjusting my shirt so my boobs were perked up with a quick hair fluff i turn to the guy at the end of the bar Whos been covering our tab for drinks.

“Hello handsome” i grin taking the stool next to him watching the instant lust build in his eyes. I could still

Feel his eyes on me and its only right to give him a show.

The man on the stool looks over at me, double taking before adjusting his posture to give me his full attention.

“My my tonight must be my lucky night an angel like you gracing me with your presence” he praises the strong smell of alcohol on his breath as he twirls one of my dark curls around his finger releasing it with a spring.

“Move” and Sukunas glare is deadly biceps rippling under the club light his shirt long gone.

“Hey pal” the man says setting a hand on Sukunas shoulder unaware of just what was about to happen and i couldnt even warn him my eyes never left the king of curses.

Without breaking eye contact he grabs the mans hand crushing it the sound of bones crushing couldn’t be hidden by the loud music but i still could only focus on sukuna.

“Wipe the smug look off your face” he grumbles stepping closer the heat of his body rolling off onto me.

“Lord Sukuna, king of curses the almighty and powerful isnt… jealous?” I giggle watching as he takes the shot left behind by the man scowling as he takes the shot next to it as well.

“Dont humor me, he was weak and undeserving. Plus if something happened to you Yuji would never shut up” he… rambles? Oh he was so jealous. Fire literally comes out of my hand unless that man controlled water and in copious amount what harm would he truly bring me.

“So if i were to go home with him and sleep with him you wouldnt be jealous in the slightest? And i mean hours of letting him have his way with me—“ to which he scoffs rolling his eyes in disgust.

Sukuna wasnt a man of many words more so action so i could talk all i wanted but the best reaction id get was from action. And i knew just how to pull it from him.

“Not even if i did this?” I ask but before he has a chance i bend down coming eye level with his abdomen and drag my tongue from the begining of the black mark to where it ends on his chest smirking when i come eye level with him watching as something dark ignites in his eyes.

___________________________________

When we get home theres not a surface left untouched that he doesnt have me against. Pressing me into the front door as he bites down my neck licking and sucking over my pulse.

“Suk—mmmm” the moan comes out of me as he tugs on my earlobe with his mouth his hands feeling like hot fire on my body. He begins to pull me further in but i pull back giggling at his look of dissatisfaction.

“I gotta take m’shoes off” im sure i slur my words slightly only to be picked up and placed on the top of the black velvet couch my feet on the seat cushion giving him easier access. Im shocked by how gentle he is untying the straps from around my calfs before he gets frustrated ripping them off.

“SUKUNA!” I yell watching the coy smirk on his face and he leaves a kiss on my calf.

“Whaaaat?” Before another kiss is placed on my knee followed by my inner thigh and right when i think hes going to go under my skirt he switches to my other leg the warmth spreading in my core and i wanted him to stop teasing.

“Sukuna” i groan but it instead comes out as a sigh feeling his thumbs massage into my inner thigh extremely close to my core as i feel his breath over my underwear.

“Tell me.” He grunts against my core the vibrations shaking my whole insides and maybe my body was just sensitive to him because i could definitely cum just like that. “Tell me what i want”

And hes placing kisses over my pussy through my underwear moaning and something about him wanting me so bad he would kiss me through my underwear turned me on even more. I’m sure he could tell because its not long before his tongue is poking at the sides making me shiver.

“Give me what i want” i counter to prideful to beg alcohol be damned the arrogant grin on his face doesnt budge as he pulls me down so im on the seat easily throwing my legs over his shoulders. Long fingers brush my wet folds as he hooks his finger in my underwear, a lewd comment about me being so wet for him my thongs were clinging to it in a way his tongue would replace.

And hes not lying, he places one long lick from my hole all the way up to my clit, a light swirl around before placing a peck and I feel electric. My head luls back as he uses two fingers to spread my lips open giving easier access to my clit which he sucks kisses licks and moans against.

“Fuck” he groans against it placing a wide open mouth tongue kiss on my pussy and i arch into him? Away? Im not sure my eyes slam shut when i realize hes kissing my pussy the same way he was kissing me against the door and the pure lewdness of his mouth being full of me. The wet smacking sounds were being drowned out by my moans and cries of his name and with a particular flick of his tongue on my clit i launch forward squeezing my thighs around his head which seems to entertain more than bother him.

“Eyes on me” he moans against me tapping my thighs twice and i couldnt even remember shutting them. His lips apply more pressure as my hands get lost in his hair holding him in place which seems to egg him on his motions becoming filthier with every flick of his tongue.

He pushes me back before his wide palms squeeze my thighs grunting as he continues his assault licking me in ways that would leave a mark on my mind before tongue-fucking me which is what sends me into the spiral of cuming for the first time. (And embarassingly fast)

“So delicious” he murmurs licking up every drop and i can feel my heart pounding in my ears as i try to catch my breath. It took him less than five minutes to have me in a puddle, figuratively and literally and my brain scrambled.

Pulling me forward by my chin he places an aggressive kiss on my lips leaving me dizzy as i taste myself on his lips until he quickly pulls back standing up beckoning me to follow him.

“We need to get you to bed” he speaks and i miss the taunt in his voice taking it as being scolded instead which makes me stop the cold of the hallway floor settling on the pads of my feet.

“What?!” I snap and he raises a brow facing me the taunt evident on his face.

“Unless you want something from me, tell me sweetheart” And it’s nothing more than an attempt to get me to beg but i was entirely not going to. I would never, no matter how mad i wanted him to rearrange my insides.

“No?” He ask cupping my jaw roughly his thumb grazing my bottom lip rubbing the juices on my lip— the moment he fucks up.

Using my tongue to wrap it arround his thumb before sucking it into my mouth watching the desire come full force in his eyes. I release it with a small pop sound a string of saliva connecting his finger to my lip his eyes never moving from it.

“I mean i know you like when i lick your marks up your chest but what about down?” I whisper before my tongue drags down the black lines down to the waist band of the pants pulling them down watching his dick spring out yet the weight, length and girth stops it from springing completely against his abdomen.

My mouth waters at the sight and i feel myself sink down to my knees keeping eye contact wrapping my acrylic fingers around it. Theres a drip of precum as i slowly begin to pump that i chase with my thumb smearing it against the tip.

Removed from my trance i feel his large hand cup my jaw roughly and the other replace my hand over his length giving a few slow pumps so i eagerly stick out my tongue knowing exactly what he wants to do. He taps it on my tongue twice before slowly pushing it in my mouth keeping direct eye contact the whole time listening to the way his breath stops as he hits the back of my throat. He feels heavy in my mouth in the most delicious way causing me to moan and give a slight suck.

Its the soft groan that he makes that encourages me to take control pulling back slighty before pushing him all the way down my throat one hand at the base making a twisting motion while the other massages his balls this time earning a “fuck baby” and i almost tease him about it but my mouth was… full.

Pulling back once more for air i swirl my tongue around the tip collecting every drop of precum before licking my way down to his balls and taking them in my mouth. His leg twitches and his eyes are on me with a blown eyed gaze as i swish them around my mouth sending him a wink the smirk coming back.

“Youre such a— fuck… brat taking my dick like this in the…” he stops for a second going to reach for my hair and i almost send a glare until i realize hes just moving it off my shoulders. Hollowing my cheeks and sucking hes brought back to his words. “In the hallway, so hungry for me arent you” he growls

Moving my mouth back onto his length taking him 4 more times down my throat my hand replacing where my mouth previously was before continuing a bobbing motion. The pace of my bobbing matching the pace of my hand twisting before his hands start caressing my cheeks using it as leverage.

“Such a good girl” he begins stuttering eyes rolling back head falling against the wall. His hips began moving and im not even sure he realizes it and hes fucking my face at a quick pace muttering words in a language that i couldnt identify— maybe something prehistoric.

“Throat so.. mmf… so good, such a good brat. FUCk” he growls when i gag but doesnt stop for a second just continues his rambling. “My brat, youre taking every inch so fucking… so fucking” he holds my head in place as if hes trying not to cum to quick.

Shit thats exactly what hes doing!

Tapping his thigh to gain his attention, the same way he did to me I internally smirk the moment his eyes meet mine and I know exactly what kind of thing would make him release. Slowly pushing down until my nose hits his pelvis as I pull back I give him the longest blink I can exaggerate without looking crazy letting the tears prick my eyes without falling giving the base of his dick and balls a slight squeeze moaning the entire time.

“You fucking demon— nnghhhh”he moans as ropes of his cum shoot down my throat his hips twitching as he holds me in place trying to keep his eyes on me. after hes satisfied everydrop is in my mouth not a single one gone to waste He finally lets my face go before im being pulled up by the front of my shirt. His lips are on mine as hes groping me like my clothes dont exist his hands running all over my body pulling me in closer.

His tongue swirls in my mouth and its like a mix of both of us before i playfully bite down on his bottom lip feeling him harden against my hip making me grin. He likes it rough i could be as rough as i wanted and hed probably just love it even more.

My legs wrap around his waist the moment he picks me up walking the rest of the way to my room and placing me on the bed pulling me shirt over my head and to inpatient for my skirt and underwear he rips them off. Climbing over me he places a few teasing bites up my neck marking up what hadn't already been marked before pulling back slightly to line himself up with my entrance.

I assume hes going to tease but the squelch and sudden burn of him pushing in makes the corner of my eyes prick with tears only brought back by the sounds of his grunts.

“And you fucking thought id let you go hone with another man and hed have this view of you cock drunk already and all ive done was slide halfway in” he chuckles darkly and i look at where we are connected.

HALFWAY?

“Eyes on me brat” and my leg is thrown over his shoulder before he leans forward giving me a bruising thrust. Well clearly i bit off more than i could chew. His thrust are fast and heavy but not painful. He rolls his hips and my hands fly up to his chest.

Hold on what was this. He sends a handful more thrust just like that with the same force… no not force pressure and i can feel my mouth watering. These werent the quick hard and fast strokes i was expecting. Sure they were rough but—

His large hand throws my other leg over his shoulder pulling a high pitched moan from me and he was entirely to deep inside of me. Its a particular thrust that hits a spot deep inside of me causing my eyes to cross and i nearly push him off of me had it not been for our position.

“Ahhhh looks like i found that sweet spot” he taunts thrusting into it again and i bite my bottom lip trying to hold in the moans. “Cute attempt” and before i could ask what he means he leans forward so were chest to chest and if he wasnt deep before he definitely was now.

“Fuck” he growls against my ear continuing his assault my eyes only catching the way every muscle ripples in his back. He was making his mark and not just sucking and biting but engraving his self in my memory. Every thrust every roll of his hips its like he was trying to make sure i wouldnt forget drunk or sober. Its slight caresses that turn to grips, hip rolls that turn to strong thrust that rattle my whole body bites thats followed by his tongue flicking over them.

The orgasm begins to build and i feel the wetness already sliding down making him grunt picking up the pace.

“S-sukuna!” It rocks through me before i have time to warn him but he doesnt stop just continues to fuck me through it his chuckles a distant thought it my head.

“You were so jealous” i mutter through heavy pants the only thought i could hold onto before he's pulling out and i'm flipped onto my stomach his length pushed back in this time his hand snaking under me to play with my clit his strokes different this time.

His fingers are going fast yet his strokes are slow are taunting his balls slapping against me the contrast sends me into another orgasm my brain telling me to fight back.

“The next time you think IM jealous of another man some puny mortal remember i can make you cum in 30 seconds” he grunts in my ear and i know theres a glare on his face. But he doesnt stop he alternates the pace of his fingers and thrust making me moan out trying to hold back long forgotten.

“You look so delicious” he moans and the sound has my toes curling. He drops half of his weight on me as his other hand comes around grabbing my neck lifting me up so I can see our reflections in the mirror. His maroon eyes were dark and getting darker with lust as we made eye contact through the mirror and for a second my mind turns to mush the only thought was how good he felt with every thrust and pinch of my clit.

“Look at you… fuck falling apart under me” he grunts a smile building on his lips before he licks them gripping tighter on my neck. “You look so perfect taking my cock like this. Getting so… youre making such a mess on me. Youre pussy is so tight and warm and the way youre clenching when i talk… shit. You must like my voice” his grin grows and i look away but the way i clench around him gives me away im sure.

His hand moves from my clit leaving three stinging SMACKS. His grip grows tighter on my throat forcing me to look at him again in the mirror, his hand squeezing over my cheeks.

“Sukuna” i snap or try to but it only comes out as a stuttering moan which satisfies him.

“Don't look away” he growls and when hes sure im not going to try again he places his hand back on my clit.

“Im not jealous,” he tries to prove his point but it was lost on me i didnt even care i was in complete bliss.

“I can fuck you better than him. He was just going to turn into a boy and jackrabbit you. He wouldnt know what to do with all the woman you are. Me…JEALOUS? No im leaving my mark youre going to remember every touch, lick, bite, shit and thrust. Thats real punishment. Ruining you for every man after me. They couldnt fuck you like this” he rants a deranged look in his eyes before his speed increases and of course.

He wasnt some 20 something year old guy he was a 1000 year old curse with years of experience in torture. Brute force was a mere quick thing and nothing about this was quick.

“Sukuna im going to…” i whine kicking my legs feeling the pressure build up and it was becoming to much for me. I try to thrust back to push him off but that sinister smile grows the widest ive ever seen and instead he pulls me to my knees by my hip. It instead becomes leverage as he uses his other hand to push my back down creating an arch as his pace comes to the fastest its been all night finally pushing in all the way the tip hitting the spot that made my eyes cross again.

“Oh… OH” he chuckles as he watches my fist curling in the blankets the moans no longer quiet but loud screams im sure my neighbors would complain about tomorrow but i couldnt care.

“Feels good doesnt it, i should make you beg to cum, i should edge you. I shouldnt even.. fuck.. youre lucky youre so pretty i shouldnt even let you cum for even entertaining him. Were you trying to piss me off?” He growls but it all falls on deaf ears. My own shrieks of pleasure are the only thing i can register.

“But since youre here… under me and that stunt you pulled? At that silly little club? Ill be nice just this once brat.” He moans his thrust becoming sloppy as if the thought of me licking him turns him on.

“Cum for me” he pinches my clit sending me into my demise the hot ropes of cum from him shooting inside of me as his grunts get louder while he rides out our orgasms.

“Good girl” is the last thing i hear before darkness takes over.

_________________________

Sukuna isnt prepared to glance at the clock at 4:37am. Sure he wasnt fully sleep but being prepared for the brown skinned fire sorceress to wake him up 10 minutes ago for another round was the last thing he expected.

Sukuna loved every second of it. She wasnt like past women who wanted to made sure they just pleased him oh no she wanted to conquer him. find every kink, every sensitive spot any twist of her hips or clutching of his core that made him putty for her and exploit it. Biting him, sucking on his neck, hair pulls and even slight chocking— ok it was nothing slight about it at all, even when she pins his arms above his head he was losing his senses because everything was her.

She had the audacity to try this and look so fucking good doing it. It was no longer him fucking her but dhe was fucking him and damn did it feel good. She was marking him every inch of his body stating her claim and he nearly felt pride, his brat, fuck did she know how to get him going. So prideful she wouldnt even cum again until he did even if that means he did have to snake one of his hand down to pinch her clit watching her tears come down her face as she fights so strongly.

Sukunas proud and for a moments forget this isnt his body just a mere vessel but hes so proud of her he wants to drop his whole load and really claim her as his own but things are a bit complicated right now. But hes so prpud of her being so strong taking every inch and seeing the lengths of her stubotness but fuck does he want her to cum. He needs to feel the way she cums arounds him and watch as the cream builds up at where their bodies meet, he needs to see that pure look of bliss and feel the desperation as her body clings to his. But he can talk her through it.

“H-hey sweetheart, look at me” he growls angry she had him stuttering and with a sharp thrust upward to meet hers she whines looking down at him.

“What?! Y-youre —-mmmm fuck… youre fucking up my pace” she seeethes through clutch teeth pulling roughly on the hair at the nape of his neck his moans unable to be hid at the pure pleasure.

“Sorry sweetheart” he falsely apologized repeating the thrist again feeling her clench. “Just wanna say youre doing so good, taking me dick so good just like you should” he sits up watching as she adjust using his shoulders for leverage.

“Listen to it… every sound, squelch— youre gripping me soooo tight. I could fuck you all night, loose myself in it. Its so wet and warm and your taking every inch like a good brat for me, my brat” he breathes in her ear before bringing her jaw so theyre eye to eye once more.

“I cant wait to watch you cum for me again, make a mess all over your dick.” He tells her watching as she tries to close her eyes and he sends another rough thrust forcing her eyes back open.

“You have 5 seconds to give it all to me” he tells her darkly left hand going to her clit as a threat not rubbing or moving just pressing into her.

“4” and she presses her forehead against his

“3” he smirks as her hips become erattic the whimpers increasing from her mouth.

“Sukuna!” She snaps digging her nails into his back holding on tighter to him. He grins kissing the side of her head thumb not moving from her clit but pressing harder.

“2” and the wet sounds increase letting him know he was more than capable of talking her… counting her through it.

“I hate you” she moans releasing all over him sending him into an orgasm as well thrusting his hips so they can both ride it through only stopping when he feels her body slump against his.

“I hate you so much” she speaks through ragged breaths as he leans back never pulling out and he chuckles kissing her head again pushing her hair out of her face.

_____________________________________

“So youre telling me…” i trail off completely speachless when all the memories from last night come back and i can feel everywhere he touched like it was burned into my skin.

His arms rest behind his head the holds that cocky smirk and lazy look in his eye as if i forgot his moans.

“You fucked me like that because you were jealous?” I giggle once more watching as his glare comes back

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