#you feel those drums in your HEART baby

[shalomniscient]

IM ACTUALLY SCREAMING GAMING’S ANIMATIONS ARE SO FUCKING COOL ??? god, the glowing jacket, the lion head, the NA string where he jumps on a pillar….. SO GOOD RAHHHHHHHHH

[cute-sucker]

boxer!rafe holding his baby for the first time, and knowing him he made sure you had a private room and good food.

tell me why he would be so jittery though ??

୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀 ୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

boxer!rafe never had gotten as scared as he did when you had given birth.

waiting. rafe had been waiting for hours, holding a lucky charm that you had given him. the strands of the bracelet were frayed as he toyed with it, over and over again. the smell of the hospital was nauseating, and the feeling of being in a place that smelt like antibiotics and sickness made his skin crawl.

he had gotten the call that your baby was born in the middle of a fight. he was on top of a guy before someone stormed in the middle of the fight. that was uncommon, and the referee quickly had them separated before rafe realised it was your work friend, delany. she looked frantic, as she tried to mouth something.

the minute he realised what it was, he was pulling the ropes of the ring, and yelling at people to get out of the way. blood was splattered across his mouth, and his swelling knuckles stung with pain, as his sweaty t-shirt stuck to his chest.

your water broke.

he was there in minutes, swearing as he tried to close the car. he'd run into the hospital with a huff, demanding to know where you were. to be quite frank it may have been sweet to you - but it was downright scary to the nurses.

a bulky guy with blood splattered all over him, holding a silly pink baby bag. the first nurse let out an uncomfortable laugh before telling him to sit down. now, rafe would have started yelling, but there was this drumming in his heart that made him feel as if he was going to vomit.

he couldn't lose you, no, this was a critical part of all of it. he'd read those stupid books that you had gotten him about pregnancy, and how dangerous it was, and how many mothers had died and how to hold a baby, and, and-

(goddamn it, he was scared.)

"mr. cameron. would you like to come in?"

he looked up to see a nurse with a painful smile, he took a deep breath before nodding his head. rafe felt his hands shake, as he took a step inside the room.

there you were, pretty as always with that discharge night gown, and a relieved sweaty smile on your face. you look so calm, but his eyes zone on your hands. the baby isn't in your hands, and he found himself wondering where the baby was, but he watched you get up to touch him.

"hey, hey baby. calm down. you need to stay like that," he muses, coming closer to rub your shoulders. you close your eyes, a soft gasp coming out of your mouth.

rafe gives you a soft peck on the shoulder, "why didn't you call me?" he whispers in that gentle tone of his. you squirm, peeling open your eyes with those pleading doe eyes,.

"i didn't want to bother you. i knew-" you gasped out, "i knew you had that important match and shit, and i don't know i thought it was like a bad time-"

rafe cursed, "didn't i tell you it was the two of us together? i shoulda' been there for you. shoulda' have held your hand through this shit-" and he knew he's going on a tangent as your lip wobbled and he quickly licked his lips while shaking his head.

"nah, it doesn't matter now. aw, my sweet girl did this all by herself. let me," he muttered, rubbing tears off your cheeks, "where's the baby?" you sniffled, nuzzling your face in his hands, before pointing to the sinks where he saw a small tiny girl.

she's squirming in the nurse's hands, as she gets washed off. her tiny face is squished up as she lets out small squeals. he's struck by how small, how tiny, how he made that little thing with you.

"i-" he choked up unable to take his eyes off your baby, "thank you sweets. thank you." his head bowed down into your lap, the words like worship. he was a devout in your temple.

"here's the baby, ms. cameron."

you looked up at her, a little bundle of joy as the doctor put her in your lap. rafe felt like everything was complete, feeling his throat sting and his hands get clammy. god, what did he do to deserve this?

the baby was perfect, a tiny sweet thing and rafe's hands shook at his sides as you looked up at him with teary eyes.

"do you want to hold her?"

he swallowed hard, his voice that soft whisper you knew so well, "can i?"

you laughed something that was so sweet, ringing in his ear like a song he never wanted to end. yet, he couldn't help but look at you with approval and when he looked into your eyes all he saw was love. all he saw was the truth. finally, he reached for his baby girl, calloused hands cradling her.

he finally had found his family.

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - 18+ mdni - more vacation - smut

Simon left the windows open last night.

He’s not sure what possessed him to take such a risk. The vacation flat may be on the third floor, picked for the view over the beach and shoreline, but the height is not something that would thwart someone with an objective. A mission to kill.

A person like him.

He supposes he left them open because he wanted to watch the thin cotton curtains wave in the breeze. He wanted to smell the salt and hear the birds. He wanted to memorize the sunrise’s painting across your bare skin, the broad strokes and dappled splotches of dawn that turn you into a living canvas, a work of art. The prettiest one he’s ever seen.

You’re hardly covered by the sheet, on your side, one arm above your head, the other stretched out towards his side of the bed. You slept like a dead woman last night, gone to the world, lightly snoring and tossing in the small hours. He stayed up for most of it, tracing the slope of your nose with his fingers, counting your spots, birthmarks, moles, the whole lot. You’re usually a light sleeper home, your subconscious skimming just under the surface, ready to wake you at a moment’s notice for the baby, an instinctive driving you to hover on the edge of deep sleep.

He says he’s not sure what possessed him to let the sun in so early this morning, but deep down, he’s aware of the farce.

He wants to catch it in the light. The small angular sapphire on a gold band, the one he slipped on your ring finger last night while you were lost in your dreams. It’s a simple thing. Unremarkable even. Unobtrusive, as it should be. It doesn’t call attention to its size, or you, or who may have put it there, but it sits so naturally, like it’s always belonged.

He slipped it on six hours ago and well, he’s tired of waiting for you to see it for the first time.

He pulls you into your body, little spoon to his big, and tugs the hand wearing his ring into his, carefully shifting your knee forward. You sigh.

“Simon?” He kisses your shoulder, your neck.

“Go back to sleep sweetheart.” The thick of your ass is plump at his hips, hard cock settled in the cleft between your cheeks.

“What’re you doin’?” You yawn, still not able to really open your eyes, and he nudges at your temple.

“Just a little cold mama, there’s a bit o’ a draft in here.” He traces down your slit, pleased to find you already wet, probably from when he played with you clit earlier this morning. He hefts up on his arm, lining up with you before slowly pushing his way inside your body. You’re wet and warm and perfect, and he groans into your neck, weaving his fingers between yours. His thumb strokes over the stone in your ring, cock still and sitting in your wet pussy. You moan.

“Ah-“

“Feel good?”

“So full.” Your lashes flutter. He kisses your cheek.

“Be good for daddy, sweetheart. Keep those eyes closed, stay nice and still. Keep me warm.” He’s savoring the moment, dragging it out, practically edging himself, waiting for the second you truly wake up and realize what he’s done, what’s happening.

You whine. He slaps your ass, lightly, enjoying how you jiggle and ripple afterwards. The sun tired you out yesterday, effects still lingering, and he rubs a soothing palm over the swell of your ass, shushing you. “My sweet girl, look’t you. Keepin’ my cock warm, hungry for it even in your dreams.” You whimper, clenching, and he starts to move, dragging in and out of your heat, holding you too tight to his chest. Your mouth hangs open in a permanent gasp, fingernails sinking into his thigh.

“Oh my god.” He directs your hand onto the pillow in front of your face, his fingers locked on yours. Another thrust, deeper this time, enough to make you squeak, and then he whispers in your ear.

“Open your eyes mama.” His heart is a sharp staccato, frantic snare drum rolling through his head. He waits, and waits, slowing the roll of hips until your brow furrows, confused at the stall of his pace.

The curtains wave, picked up by a breeze, and the sun skitters across the foot of the bed, slowly spreading up the mattress, over where he’s sunken deep inside you, to the pillow, your face, your hand.

The sapphire sparkles in the morning light.

A beat. Then two. The blood pounding in his ears-

“What… Simon… wait… did you-“ you’re babbling, confused, stunned, and he pulls away, almost completely, before bludgeoning back inside your pussy until there’s no room left, and your back arches.

“That’s a ring, sweetheart. My ring, on your pretty little finger.” He thrusts again, snapping into you with a snarl. The ring is clouding his vision, the clutch of your pussy trying to milk him deep into your womb. “My ring, my babies, my wife.” The plural slips, future plans laid bare, but he distracts you with teeth to your shoulder, playing with your clit, persistent, frenzied pressure screwing your face up until your eyes are clenched closed and he’s fucking you so hard his hips slap against your ass with a shuddering, satisfying sound.

“Daddy- fuck. ‘m gonna come,” you pant, spine curling, and he cups your jaw. He’ll never not be able to look you in the face now, he’ll always need to see you, watch you, drink in every expression like they’re his salvation.

Maybe they are.

“Good girl, there it is, come for me, come all my cock.” You choke, you cry, keening in his arms, sweet kitten turned feral, and he bands a forearm around your chest as he rocks in and out, faster and faster, meeting you blow for blow, release spilling from him and into you, a reaffirmation of the bond you’ll carry, he’ll carry, for the rest of your lives.

“This is crazy.” You’re holding your hand up, staring at the gem glistening against the backdrop of turquoise sea. “You’re insane. You know that right?” He barks a laugh, tugging you down onto the blanket.

“I do know.” There’s sand in your hair, sand littered across your collarbone, sand on your nose. He feels insane right now, sitting by your side, studying the ring he gave you, his ring on your hand.

Fuck. It makes his cock hard. Fills that ache in his chest, the ever present one that he’s had since the day he saw you on the sidewalk with his baby wrapped to your chest. Wild instinct that demands he possess every single inch, every breath.

You’re the moon. The silver light on the desert in the darkest hours of the night. The one gentling the primal deep of the darkest waters, pushing and pulling them in a rapturous tide.

He’s the sea. You’re the moon.

He glances around the beach. Finally. He overheard you and Cami giggling about skinny dipping the other day, and latched onto your admittance that you’ve never done it, but always wanted to try. “We’re alone.” You blink.

“Okay…”

“Want to skinny dip?” Your eyebrows raise, and he gives you a small half smile. There’s a little excitement in your eyes, balanced with caution.

“What if someone sees?”

“No one will.”

“But if they do… you’ll be okay with someone else seeing me naked?” His vision ebbs in red.

“No one will see us.” He doubles down, and you snicker.

“I don’t know. Maybe we shouldn’t… if someone saw you naked they’d probably call the zoo for an escaped anaconda sighting or something, they’d-“ He rolls to his feet, snatching you by your waist, walking towards the tide. You shriek. “Simon! Put me down!” With one hand, he rips your bottoms away and pulls his down simultaneously, before flipping you into the surf, careful to keep his hands on you even as you go under.

When you come up sputtering, you’re trying so damn hard not to laugh, affixing fake outrage on your face like a mask that won’t stay.

You’re so fucking cute.

He tugs the top free, and then you’re both standing naked, floating in the crystal cool water, rolling with the waves. Your feet leave the ground with each peak, and Simon swims after you when you’re on top of one, wrapping you up in his arms and turning on his back.

“I’ll drown you.” You protest, but don’t attempt to wrestle free.

“Mama you couldn’t drown me if you tried.” The two of you float there, toes to the sky in the sea, his hand on your waist, tethered, until your fingers are wrinkled and he's kissed each and every one.

[fangswbenefits]

Intimacy

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Lack of intimacy after childbirth can weigh a relationship down. Thankfully, Miguel always finds new ways to keep the spark alive.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Lactation kink. Fangs. Implied breeding kink. A comprehensive study on intimacy with Miguel O’Hara.

“She’s finally sound asleep.”

Holding back a yawn as you entered the living room, you were promptly met with a very heavy-eyed Miguel O’Hara on the couch, enjoying the comforts of home.

“Thank you,” he said truthfully, straightening up lightly in his seat. “Come here.”

You paced towards him, lazily settling on his lap, both legs framing his as two big and warm hands sprawled across your back, pulling you into an embrace.

Instinctively, your eyes fluttered shut once cheek came to rest on his shoulder, taking in his body warmth and enjoying the steady heartbeat that drummed against your chest.

You figured you might just fall asleep and don’t fight against it. Taking care of a baby had been taking a toll on you both as of late, but it was to be expected.

Still, you missed moments like this. No talking, just feeling right at home in a silent embrace.

Miguel planted a few kisses to the back of your neck, but they were void of any sexual bearing. You knew what he meant with those. Absolute gratitude and devotion.

“Next time, I’ll put her to sleep,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hmm.”

His hands glided along your back, fingertips applying just enough pressure to raise goosebumps across your skin.

“I mean it.”

“You’re also tired,” you drawled out with a yawn, body slumping fully into him. “Work and all that…”

Another tender kiss. “But I have responsibilities here, too.”

“Why are you so stubborn?”

“You taught me how.”

Point taken.

Silent seconds ticked by and you shifted on his lap into a more comfortable position, ready to enter the valley of dreams.

“I miss you,” he said all of a sudden.

His hands settled on your arms to straighten you, a pair of red eyes encasing yours.

“I miss us.”

Miguel wasn’t a man to deliver empty words as filler, so you knew that he genuinely meant it, which had your heart to skip a beat.

His digital suit began to fragment and reced, exposing the skin underneath. Your placed your hands on his chest, feeling the hard muscles flex under your touch.

He was so handsome. Almost unfairly so.

“Let me kiss you,” he whispered.

You nodded, bringing your lips to meet his in a lazy kiss as you dragged your fingers along his hair, earning a moan of approval.

It was a slow and steady kiss. You were in no hurry and wanted to make the most of this rare opportunity.

One of his hands slid to grope your breast and you felt him groan against you lips, breaking contact.

His half-hooded eyes were now on your chest, and as you followed his line of sight, you realised what had caught his attention.

Your shirt was getting soaked with milk.

Damn.

Two round damp spots spread across the fabric that covered each nipple, and you felt instant embarrassment take over. “Sorry… wanted to pump before putting her to bed, but she—”

“Don’t ever apologise for this,” he silenced you at once.

You tried to slide off the couch to fix yourself, but he kept you in place with both hands gripping your waist, pushing you down on him.

“Stay.”

Oh?

“I’ll help.”

Oh.

“Miguel…”

Masterful fingers worked their way down the buttons of your nightgown to reveal your heaving breasts.

You knew that look on his face.

Hunger.

“So full,” he said more to himself, cupping both of them softly.

A few droplets coated both nipples and he brushed the pad of his thumbs along the sensitive skin, earning a jerk from you.

The tingling between your legs emerged in full force from just the sight of him staring at you like he could devour you whole.

He craned his neck just enough to capture one nipple with his lips before latching hungrily.

The overwhelming sensation was enough to have you clinging to his broad shoulders for support. You squeezed your eyes shut and gasped once you felt him sucking gently.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the growing pressure between your legs from his hardening cock.

“Be gentle,” you moaned, caressing his cheek that would rhythmically hollow as he downed your milk.

“Hmmm.”

Then your hand came to his neck and you gently gripped it, feeling his Adam’s apple bob with each gulp.

You stared adoringly at him, slowly grinding into his covered cock. A raw groan reverberated through his throat, and you could tear your eyes away from the sight of the warm liquid pooling in the corner of his mouth.

The latch was just perfect and felt too good.

You brought your hand to caress his face once more, brushing a few strands of his hair away.

“You’re so good…” you moaned.

His cock twitched at your praise, and you could feel the wetness damping his own underwear. Now he was the one leaking for you, his body full on auto-pilot as precum readied him for more.

A couple of droplets began to run down his chin, dripping and drenching his underwear.

“No fangs…”

You’d felt them grazing your skin lightly, but you couldn’t really blame Miguel. His fangs would emerge from either extreme anger or blinding pleasure. A roll from your hips with added pressure was enough to tear his lips from your nipple, head falling back and mouth parting with a raw moan.

He bared both sets of fangs as both hands gripped your waist. Your own mouth dropped open as haziness filled your vision, absolutely revelling in seeing your own milk dripping from his lips and down his muscular neck.

“Fuck,” he grunted, eyes squeezed shut.

You hurried to collect some of the beads of milk from his skin, but Miguel intercepted you midway, capturing you into a searing kiss. His tongue hurriedly slipped past your lips and you tasted sweetness.

Parting yourself from him, you focused on the grind of your hips and Miguel snapped open his crimson eyes, lust dilating his pupils.

“I’m not… I’m not…” he mumbled incoherently, too lost in his pleasure. “I’m not… lasting…”

You leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I’m surprised you lasted this long,” you whispered seductively, pressing a quick kiss to the pulse point on his neck. “So much stamina…”

Miguel was a sucker for praise and it was the easiest and fasted way to get him to crumble.

Your clit rubbed against his covered cock in a steady rhythm as more droplets of milk kept dripping from your nipples. Your eyes roamed along his chest that was glistening as beads of white liquid streamed down.

Suddenly, Miguel pulled you into him, your breasts now squeezed in between you two, more liquid pouring out.

He titled your head and immediately latched his lips against your neck, fangs nearly puncturing the flushed skin.

“You ride me so good,” he murmured hungrily against you.

A moan tangled in your throat and your hips surged to encourage his, ruthlessly intensifying the pleasure. Miguel picked up the speed again and you felt each burst of bliss at every thrust and desperate to feel the next.

Your orgasm was upon you faster than you had expected, the sense of urgency in his thrusts pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Miguel… Miguel…” you moaned, your panties completely drenched.

“Inside… please…”

Desperate fingers clawed at your underwear, sliding it to the side as the tip of his cock nudged at your entrance. He slid inside effortlessly, bottoming up in an instant, and after a moment he gave a harsh cry and shoved himself so deeply and tightly against you that you gasped, clenching hard around him.

Miguel buried his face in the crook of your neck in a failed attempt to muffle his groans.

He kept grinding and rocking against you with stifled grunts, spurting hotly inside.

Only the sounds of your harsh breathing followed, and you sank against him weakly as if drained of all energy.

A familiar waile filled the room, making you wince.

“Shit… were we too loud?” you asked, trying to ease your breathing.

Miguel was still buried deep inside you, beads of sweat rolling down his face. “I’ll go check on her.”

You could tell he reluctantly slid out, easing you on your back. The sudden emptiness made you clench involuntarily, and you felt some of his warm cum spilling

“Keep it in,” he said, pressing your legs together as he planted a kiss to your forehead.

Masterlist

[oneforthemunny]

november rain |ex-husband!eddie munson x ex-wife!reader|

prompt: after your divorce to eddie, you try to get back out there. but sometimes, nothing beats what you already have.

contains: smut minors dni. mom!reader x dad!eddie. divorced. mentions to past angst/ fighting. mentions of teen pregnancy. oral fem receiving, pinv sex. slightly angsty. asshole date, angsty ending. kinda a bittersweet fic. based off this ask <3

You could hear him before you could see him, speakers shaking from the noise in his car, leaving your ears buzzing at the vibrations. The swelling of your heart rose above the annoyance you tried to feign, rolling your eyes and hoping he didn’t see through it. 

“You do realize I live in a subdivision? Neighbors and all?” You crossed your arms, glaring at him before he’d ever climbed out of the car, killing the engine and the music with the pull of his keys. 

“Yeah? They don’t like Judas Priest?” Eddie grinned, dimples deep, and you knew under his shades his eyes were bright and wild- the way they always were when they were teasing you. “I have Metallica too. I think I still have that Blondie tape you like in here too somewhere, if they’d prefer that.” 

Your heart skipped, lips twitching in a faltering snarl that was slowly turning into a blushing soft smile. “You better not play music that loud when my babies are with you.” You huffed, hands moving to rest on your hips, the denim waistband of your jeans hugging you just right in your Levi’s- Eddie’s favorite pair. You knew it, and you didn’t miss the way his tongue ran over his bottom lip. 

“Did you hear me?” You snapped, swallowing a grin. You knew he hadn’t, too distracted. “Eddie, I am serious, you will bust their little ear drums-” 

“-I know, sweetheart. C’mon,” Eddie shook his head, pushing his sunglasses up, pinning his curly bangs with them. “They’re my kids too. ‘M not gonna hurt them, you know that.” The sun caught a flash of gold, gleaming just for a moment off his left hand. 

Eddie was still wearing his wedding band. 

Your stomach sunk at the thought, thumb absentmindedly twisting your bare ring finger. The divorce had been final for months- six, to be exact. You’d stopped wearing yours after the first. It was weird, not wearing the small band and ring you’d worn since high school- since Eddie proposed with shaking hands on your front porch after you found out you were expecting. He’d dropped the ring twice, sweaty and nearly sick with anxiety. Your mother told you that should have been a sign, but you found it endearing then- maybe you did even now. 

“Where’s the rugrats anyway?” Eddie hummed, catching your glass door to hold it for you, letting you slip under his arm. You caught a whiff of his cologne, faint from the day, mixed with a cigarette he tried to mask from earlier. 

“Jude’s playing in the backyard.” You stepped into the small foyer. Eddie had left it to you in the divorce, saying you were the only reason they got it anyways. There was always an eerie feeling that lingered when he came inside, a haunting reminder of a forever that didn’t quite succeed. 

“He’s supposed to be watching Lucy.” You hummed, craning your neck to look out the window in the living room. “They’re hunting for bugs.” Your nose crinkled, leaving Eddie laughing. 

“Bug hunting? Oh, they don’t know their Mama is terrified of bugs, huh?” Eddie teased, peeking out of the window to see the two kids, perfect blends of both of your features packed into two tiny beings. 

“I’m not terrified. Well, of all the bugs.” You huff, rolling your eyes. “Spiders, yes, and I told Jude those were off limits or I was giving Grandpa Wayne back the bug catching kit.” 

“You’re no fun.” Eddie shook his head lightly. “Scared of a little spider?” His fingers tapped playfully in a crawling way up your arm towards your shoulder, leaving you squirming away. 

“Stop.” 

“God, do you remember- what was it? Junior year? When there was a spider on your desk in Geometry?” Eddie laughed, grabbing his side at the memory. “And you shoved all your books off the desk in the middle of class?”  

“Yes, and you and Gareth just laughed at me.” You fought back your own smile at the memory. 

“Yes!” Eddie howled in laughter. “And Mr. Browcheski got so fu-sorry- freaking mad at all of us. Did we- That was when we got detention, right?” 

“Yes,” You glared at him playfully, crossing your arms. “And I was about to have a nervous breakdown thinking about how I was going to tell my parents.” 

“That’s right.” Eddie nodded slowly. “That was your first detention?” 

You nodded. “I was a good girl until I met you, Munson. You’re a bad influence.” 

“Yeah, can’t be all bad though, right?” Eddie held your gaze, stepping close instinctively. Your breathing hitched, his hand gliding over your hip, fingertips ghosting the bare skin above your waist band. “We had some good times too.” 

Your head spun, dizzy with a clouding lapse of judgment. Eddie was pulling you in, hand sliding from your hip to the small of your back, holding you so close you were flush to him. His head was already tilting, ducking towards yours, ready to capture your lips and you’d let him. Of course you’d let him, you’d be lying to say you didn’t miss his kiss- miss him. 

Lucy’s high pitched shrill had you faltering, snapping out of the haze, back into a damning reality. “What- Eddie, we-we can’t.” You took a step back, knees a little weak and wobbly from the adrenaline rush that always came with his affection. “We can’t do this.” 

“Right,” Eddie swallowed, hands shoving in his pockets, cheeks blooming with a pink heat that burned through his body.  “S-Sorry. I just- I got caught up in the moment. Talking about that. I just-” 

“-It’s fine.” You muttered, pulling the back door open, a melody of Jude and Lucy’s giggles floating in. “Guys, someone’s here to see you.” You sing-songed in a happy tune, face lighting with exaggerated excitement. You were good like that, Eddie thought, still playing nice for the kids. Maybe it wasn’t playing, Eddie really hoped it wasn’t, though the rational side of his mind (and his friends) begged to differ. 

“Daddy!” A duo of squeals and shrieks blended with bounding feet up the wooden steps into the house. 

Jude came bounding in first, nearly knocking Eddie over at the knees when his small frame collided with him. “Wo-oah, hey, buddy.” Eddie grinned, tousling the boy’s wild curls, frizzy and matted from playing outside. 

“Hi, Dad.” Jude beamed up at Eddie. He’d gotten Eddie’s lashes but your eyes. “We’re catching bugs.” 

“I heard. Catch any good ones? Any centipedes?” Eddie grinned, bending down to hug the boy. 

“No,” Jude’s face fell slightly in a frown. “But I did catch a ladybug for Lucy!” Jude bounced on his toes with excitement. 

Your heart swelled, trying to wrangle the small girl on your hip, passing her off to Eddie- well, passing was generous, she nearly launched off your hip into his arms. “A lady bug?” Eddie repeated in a babble he still used with Lucy. She was still small, in his eyes, though she was growing every single day, she was still his baby. 

“Did Bubs get you a ladybug, Lucy?” Eddie bounced her on his hips, tickling her sides so she shrieked with laughter. 

“Yeah,” Lucy giggled, leaning back to look at Jude in a limp sort of backbend. “Jude’s gots me a ladybug an-and we found a lot of worms.” She grinned, eyes wide and excited. She got her cadences from Eddie, that was for sure, more exaggerated and dramatic with each passing day. 

“Are you going to hunt bugs with us?” Jude asked, pulling on the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. “Will you? Please?” 

“Yeah, of course, I will.” Eddie smiled, shaking his head softly. “Do you have a spare shovel for me? Can you go find the little red one?” 

Jude looked at you. “I think it’s in the garage with the basketball.” You nodded towards the garage door. Jude ran off, footsteps heavy, Lucy squirming to get down and chase after him. “But- hey! Put everything back where it goes, Jude Wayne! And do not climb on anything!” You called after him, voice teetering on stern. 

“I got it!” Jude called back. 

Eddie’s chest puffed in boasting pride, grinning at the boy. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Hm, wonder who that sounds like?” You said sarcastically, giving Eddie a pointed glare. 

“That’s my boy. What can I say?” Eddie grinned, shrugging lightly. You grinned, shaking your head. “So, uh, where’re you going tonight?” Eddie tried not to sound so awkwardly needy, but it came out exactly like that. 

“Oh,” You could feel your body stiffen, a warm embarrassed heat creeping up your spine. “I, uh, I- Well, I’m going out.” You paused, fiddling with straightening something on a shelf, anything to avoid his gaze. “I…I have a date tonight.” 

Eddie’s heart sank, falling deep into the pit of his stomach. “Oh.” He swallowed the thick lump in his throat. “I, uh, I didn’t know you were… Ya know, um, gettin’ back out there.” 

“Well, I- I mean it wasn’t exactly planned.” Your thumb went back to your ring finger, rubbing the bare skin there. You used to twist your ring when you were feeling anxious, a soothing mechanism. 

“Lydia at work set me up on a blind date with her cousin. The-The accountant guy.” You cringed at your words, spouting in a word vomit that you couldn’t seem to stop. Your heart was racing, stuttering to a halt and rearing back with every fall of Eddie’s face. 

“I-I mean, I just… She’d been asking me since-since,” Since the divorce, the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say. “A-And I figured why not. I mean…” You waved your hand between the two of you, the tension uncomfortable and thick. 

“No, no, yeah,” Eddie nodded, swallowing back a burn of emotions he tried to conceal. “No, that’s- you should. Not that- I mean, you don’t need me to tell you that, but,” Eddie took a breath, finally meeting your nervous gaze. “You’ll have a good time.” 

“Yeah?” You squeaked, wringing your hands anxiously. Eddie had flashbacks to years before, when you two were a lot younger, your nervous demeanor asking for his reassurance before sneaking onto the football field at midnight. 

Eddie’s heart ached at the memory, but he nodded slowly. “Yeah. I mean, he’s lucky to get to go out with you. You’re… You’re the best, you know that.” Eddie reassured you now just like he did then, just like he always did. 

“Thank you.” You whispered, turning just as Jude and Lucy came back in, triumphantly waving the red, plastic shovel. “I, um, I’m going to get ready. There’s a frozen pizza in the freezer. I’ll preheat the oven, if you can just stick it in.” 

“I got it.” Eddie waved you off, forcing a reassuring smile. “You go get ready. Have fun, sweetheart.” His smile was warm, leaving you burning in excitement. Still, when he left, you were filled with a sinking, nauseating feeling of dread, nerves. 

Heidi would tell you that you were co-dependent, that Eddie had made you that way. She never liked him, not in highschool, especially not after the divorce. She was always reminding you that you could do better, that you should do better. 

That always sparked a fight, one of the many that you and Eddie had over and over and over. His accusatory tongue lashing accusations at you, your defenses climbing higher and higher, both too stubborn to let it go. You were reminded of the fight that did it- that caused the divorce. Days- no, weeks of back and forth. 

“You know, there’s times I wish I would have skipped school that day!” Eddie roared, voice hoarse and scratchy from the screaming match you two had been having. “I was supposed to skip with Gareth, but I fucking went, and you know what? I wish I wouldn’t have! Then we would have never gotten paired up and I wouldn’t be dragged into all this shit with you! I wouldn’t be so miserable all the goddamn time!” 

His words rang in your head, stinging just as much then as they did now. You took a breath, that haunting memory was the final push you needed to step into the shower, to get ready, and to try and start something new without Eddie. 

“So, Lydia tells me you have a kid.” Matthew asked, swirling his wine around in his glass. 

The restaurant was obnoxiously expensive, much more stuffy than what you expected on the first date. You felt terribly underdressed, in a sundress you hadn’t worn in years, fitting a little tighter now since Lucy. Note to self, go dress shopping next time. 

“Yeah, I do,” You smiled politely, the tension still a little uncomfortable, unfamiliar. “Jude and Lucy.” 

“Oh,” Matthew’s brows raised, tone clipping in shock. “Two?” 

“Yeah,” You swallowed back that familiar burning in your chest, the one that always came with judgment. Raised brows and pointed glares, being pregnant in highschool, you thought you’d be used to it by now. 

“Uh, how-how old are they?” Matthew asked, fingers tapping nervously on the table. So much tension, and you hadn’t even gotten your food yet. 

“Jude is seven, and Lucy just turned four.” You felt your chest boast with pride. Talking about your kids, that could soothe you, it always did. 

“Wow,” You weren’t sure how Matthew’s brows could go any higher, but somehow they did. “That’s… I’m sorry, you just, you look really young to have kids that age.” 

“I am,” You shrugged sheepishly. “I, um, I had Jude in high school. My senior year.” You tried not to flinch, to steel yourself for the inevitable look- the one that always gave you. 

“High school?” Matthew’s tone skittered on a scoff, leaving you burning with embarrassment- with shame. Why’re you embarrassed about it? Best thing that ever happened to me, Eddie would always say, scoffing nonchalantly when you were younger and  someone gave you a snarling glace in the supermarket, two teens pushing a baby around in a shopping cart. 

“Yeah,” You looked down at your hands under the table. This was what you dreaded, the ‘getting back out there’ phase. You had forgotten how utterly painful it was, worse now than when you were a teen. 

“My ex-husband and I got married out of high school.” You continued, trying to break up the uncomfortable silence. “After- Well, before we had Jude, but after I found out I was pregnant.” 

“Oh,” Matthew didn’t look at you, looking anywhere but you really. “That’s why you divorced then? Makes sense.” 

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “No, no, that’s- that’s not why.” It wasn’t entirely true, at least, part of the reason but not the whole reason. 

“It’s not?” Matthew raises a brow, scoffing with unimpression before downing the rest of his wine. “Look, I’m not trying to offend you, but I’m not dumb. Pregnant in high school, married the baby daddy because it was the right thing to do, right? And then what? Had another when things got rough to try and save the marriage?” 

Your heart dropped, frozen in mortification, fear maybe, in your seat. “I’m right, aren’t I? I mean, it’s a tale as old as time, Sugar.” Your cheeks burned at the nickname. That wasn’t your nickname, not what Eddie called you, and even if he did- it never sounded condescending and mean like it did when it came from Matthew. 

“No shame in it, just own up to it.” Matthew scoffed, leaning back in his seat. You felt small sitting across from him, his lips pursed, rolling over your frame with such judgment it made your stomach turn. “Lying on the first date doesn’t seem like the best option.” 

“Excuse me,” You swallowed, grabbing your purse with shaky, sweaty palms. “I have to go to the restroom.” You didn’t wait for his response, the sinking feeling in your stomach only worsening with every step towards the door. 

The Hideout was only a block away, still standing strong on the outskirts of the newly renovated downtown. You were surprised it hadn’t conformed to the trendy chic wave that was hitting everywhere, but selfishly you were glad it stayed the same. The wooden booths and dollar drafts, just the same as they’d always been. 

The corner booth in the back caught your eye, occupied by a young couple- barely legal looking. Probably snuck in here with a fake, buzzing with adrenaline and the thrill that they might be caught, sharing a pitcher. That was you and Eddie, not too long ago. He’d snuck you in on your third or fourth date. You’d never been so nervous, never felt so alive at the same time. A goody-two-shoes, Eddie called you with a sweet grin, sliding you a beer across the table and slipping in next to you in that booth. 

Your heart ached at the memory, chest heavy with emotion. Why couldn’t he have just been better? Why couldn’t you just have been better? Why couldn’t both of you be better to each other, for each other? 

The heavy weight of regret settled on your chest, mixing with the draining heaviness of the night. You looked at the phone on the wall, digging in your purse for quarters. You couldn’t call Lydia, not after you’d stood up her fix up, left him in the restaurant. Robin was undoubtedly not home on a Friday night. 

Sighing, you cradled the phone to your ear, slipping the quarters in the slot, finger jamming the numbers. The line trilled once, twice, your fingers tapping on your crossed arm. By the third ring, you were ready to hang up, give up and call your sister. 

“Munson residence,” Eddie’s voice was soft, still with that lilt of playfulness that made your heart swoon. He’d been so excited when you two got the house, when you got your own landline. He’d answered the phone all posh and silly, claiming you two were “high society” now, moving up in the world. 

“Eddie,” Your breath shook, chest rattling when you heard his voice, a soothing force after the stress of the night. “It’s me.” 

“What’s wrong?” Eddie snapped on the other end, not missing a beat. “What happened? You alright?” 

“I’m… I’m at The Hideout.” You cupped your hand over the phone’s end, trying to muffle the loud music. “I just- Can you come get me?” 

“I’m on my way.” Eddie didn’t miss a beat. 

“Thank you,” You sighed in relief. “But, hey, don’t bring the kids. Please? I told them I was going out with Rob for a night out, and they’ll want to see her.” 

“I won’t, sweetheart. They’re asleep anyways.” Eddie muttered. You could hear his keys rattling in the background. “Let me call Wheeler and see if he can pop over to watch them. I think he’s home for the summer. Gimme a few and I’ll be right there.” 

“Thank you.” You whispered, nose burning with tears you couldn’t shed- you wouldn’t shed. Not again. 

“C’mon, not a problem.” Eddie waved you off gently. “Hang tight, baby. Be there soon.” 

You waited until you heard the dial line to hang up. Your heart sunk and fluttered at the same time, head reeling with a tornado of emotions that left you dizzy. Sinking onto an open stool at the end of the bar, you ordered a beer, the same one Eddie had ordered you years before. You didn’t care much for the taste now, your palette had grown and expanded since you were fifteen. But something tonight had you craving it, maybe craving the memory, the feeling that came with the first time you drank it. Chasing down a nostalgia that you didn’t want tainted. 

Eddie was there before you could finish your second beer, only a few sips in. He slid into the chair beside you, hand gliding over your shoulder in greeting. He started to lean in, lips moving to brush your cheek, but he stopped himself before he could, waving down the bartender instead. 

“So,” Eddie tapped the sticky wood top of the bar. “Bad date?” 

“The worst.” You muttered, taking another swig of your beer. “Guy was a total ass.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie’s jaw ground tight, flexing with protective anger. “You want me to kill him?” 

You snorted, lips curling in a small grin. “No, he’s not worth that.” You hummed, propping your head in your hand. “He was just an asshole. A total fucking asshole.” 

“What’d he say?” Eddie bit, hands buzzing, though he tried to play it cool. 

“Oh, the usual- teen mom, divorced, so clearly I’m the biggest loser in the world.” You muttered, lip jutting in a pout, looking down at the ring of condensation left behind by your beer. 

“He said that?” Eddie snapped, eyes widening in a crazed way you hadn’t seen in a while. “Fucking piece of shit, I’ll beat the dogwalking shit out of him-” 

“-No, he didn’t. He didn’t say it like that.” You shook your head, placing a calming hand on his arm. “It was implied. He was… He was just not nice, and I felt like it was getting worse, so I left. Came here instead.” 

Eddie nodded, the tension between the two of you a little uncomfortable. The bartender slid him his own beer, saving the two of you from the awkward silence. Eddie took his beer, tilting it toward you with a soft smile. 

“That guys a fucking idiot. Doesn���t know what he’s missed out on.” Eddie’s lips were tight in a pain-filled smile he tried to force, but his eyes gave him aways. They always gave him away. 

“Thanks.” You muttered, cheeks burning with a tingling heat. “How were the kids tonight?” 

“Good.” Eddie nodded, swallowing his drink. “Jude found a centipede. Lucy was not a fan.”

You grinned. “I don’t blame her. You didn’t let him bring it in?” 

“No. C’mon,” Eddie scoffed lightly. “No, I made him leave it outside. He wanted to keep it in his bug catcher, but I told him if it was meant to be his, it would stay. So he put it back in the grass.” 

“Good. I’ll come looking for you if I see a centipede in the house.” You glared at him playfully. “Did you give them a bath?” 

“Dinner, bath, even read them a story.” Eddie smirked at you. “I can be a good dad, sometimes, ya know. Not a total deadbeat all the time.” He teased, shoulder bumping with yours. 

Your stomach twisted. “I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.” You muttered, looking back at your beer. 

“I was kidding.” Eddie said, setting his beer down. “Hey, I was just kidding. I know you’re just looking out for the munchkins, Mama.” 

You swooned under his cooing praise, heart swelling with adoration. “I didn’t- I would never say you’re a bad dad. You’re not a bad dad, Eddie.” You met his gaze. “You’re the best dad to them.” 

Eddie’s cheeks pinkened under your praise, chin ducking with a blush. “Thank you,” He whispered, fingers tapping the bar top. “Just a shitty husband then?” 

You rolled your eyes lightly. “No,” You clicked your tongue playfully. “Not a shitty husband. Not all the time anyways.”

Eddie grinned, dimples deep, eyes brightening. “You had your good moments.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie hummed, leaning in towards you. “Like when?” 

You’re body burned, electric tingles shooting to your core. The look in his eyes, squinting just barely, lips pursing, tongue rolling over his teeth- a look you were all too familiar with. You knew better, knew so much better than to let him sway you, to give into your urges. 

“Hm, I can think of a few times.” You purred, leaning in closer to him, lashes batting sweetly. “Maybe you could remind me?” 

Eddie’s wide grin stood the test of time. The same wild, excited grin he’d give you years ago hadn’t changed, it still left you spinning, abandoning your better judgment, following him with blinders into anything. 

“Christ, I fuckin’ missed you.” Eddie moaned, breathy and quiet, lips pressing to yours in fever. 

You shuddered under his touch, his fingers circling your clit perfectly, expertly- he was, after all, been with you for so long, he knew exactly how you wanted it. The house was quiet, the drone of the TV on for background noise, hoping the kids wouldn’t wake up. 

“Eddie,” You whispered, eyes rolling back, clawing his shoulder at a particularly perfect rub that had you seeing stars. “Fuck, that felt good.” 

“Yeah? Feels good. I can always make you feel good, sweetheart.” Eddie muttered, wet smooches trailing down your neck, down your collarbones. “Want me to make you feel better? Keep you feelin’ good? Lemme make you feel good.” 

His hands moved, pushing down your dress. Eddie looked, trying to will his mind silent at the sight of your matching, lacy set. It drove Eddie to his knees to see you in it, but his heart dropped knowing you hadn’t picked it to wear it for him. 

He shoved the lacy panties down, letting them pool at your ankles, hands sinking on your hips. You wiggled, stilling your hips to keep them from bucking when Eddie kissed your mound, teasing kisses all the way down to your slit. 

“Spread your legs f’me.” Eddie’s breath ghosted over your skin, a half grin spreading across his features when you kicked your legs open, arching forward for him. 

Eddie’s tongue ran teasingly over your left lip, your right, before licking a long stripe right through your wet folds. In the past, he would have teased you, toyed with you until you whined and begged for him to fuck you. Back when he used to have you whenever he wanted, he’d lived for that, but now, he didn’t have that luxury. He had to make the most of his time now, at your call, at your service. 

You bit your fist, trying to swallow back a moan that threatened to tear out of your throat. Your vibrator, tucked away in your sock drawer, could never replace this- replace him. His touch, the rush of endorphins that came from the pleasure he gave you, always eager to please. 

Finger raking through his curls, you tugged him further and further into you, hips grinding on his face. “Th-That’s it. That feels good.” You whispered. 

Eddie moaned, sending waves of vibrations to your core, knees buckling under the feeling. Your breath caught, head tipping back to silence the moans, ripples of pleasure crashing over you. 

“Okay, okay, stop.” You panted, pushing on the top of his head, trying to writhe out of his touch. 

Eddie’s face fell in hurt, in fear, scanning your features. He knew it was coming, the inevitable that you’d change your mind, tell him you couldn’t do this. “I-I need you.” His heart leapt at your words. “I just need you right now, please.” 

It felt like a dream, having you wrapped around him in every way. Buried inside you, Eddie tried to savor the feeling, really feel you in case this was the last time. Your legs tight around his hips, arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you as he fucked you into the mattress- into the bed that you both shared for so many years. 

Your nails clawed down his back, biting at his shoulder to keep yourself quiet, toes curling in pleasure. Eddie’s hand slid between the two of you, circling your clit as he approached his own orgasm. He knew you were close, knew everything about you. 

“Fuck, you feel so fuckin’ good. The best, the fuckin’ best, baby.” Eddie whispered, breath hot over your ear, nipping at your ear lobe. Your body shuddered, hips bucking with pleasure. 

“Fuckin’ missed you. Missed you- ah.” Eddie whined, nearly cumming when your teeth bit his shoulder, the spark of pain making his slops get sloppier and sloppier. 

Eddie’s lips moved to yours, biting your bottom lip, sucking on it while his fingers slid over your clit until you were shaking, flooding over his length. Your grip loosened, melting into the mattress as he finished, drilling into you. 

“Fuck, feel so good. Fuckin’ love the way you feel.” Eddie looked down at you, eyes glassy and dazed from your own orgasm, lips bitten from him. 

A final pump, a final grunt, and he was spilling inside you, hips still slowly rolling inside you, dropping his face into your neck. You held him tight, muffling his moans into your skin. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Eddie rambled, chest to chest, heaving and clinging to the other. 

A feeling settled around the two of you after you broke apart, laying side by side under the sheets, the house still, quiet, filled with a tension you couldn’t quite figure out. 

“I’m sorry you had a shitty date.” Eddie muttered, voice a little raspy. 

“‘S alright.” You sighed, stretching under the sheets. “Ended pretty good, all things considered.” 

“Yeah it did.” Eddie grinned softly. “Missed you.” 

Your heart ached, sinking in your chest. “I-I think you just missed having sex.” 

“No,” Eddie said firmly, shaking his head. “No, I-I missed you. I missed this, us.” He rolled over, turning towards you. 

“Eddie-” 

“-No, I just- I’m sorry, and I know I was a dick, and I-I did some things, but, baby, we’re good. We’re so good together.” Eddie whispered, reaching for you. “We’re meant to be together. You know we are. It’s always been us, it’s always supposed to be us.” 

“We’re not good together.” You pressed your lips together, shaking your head. “We’re not good for each other.” 

“Don’t say that.” Eddie’s eyes shined with hurt, shaking his head. “How-How can you say that-” 

“-Because, we’re good now. Right now, but… but then it’ll be just like it was, and we’ll be right back to fighting.” You pressed your palms to your eyes, chest tightening with the post orgasm clarity, the realization of your mistake. You’d never learn your lesson, no matter how many times you’d go through this. 

“Baby, we could go back to counseling. I just- We should try. I want to try, I want to be a family again. I want to be better this time. I promise I’ll be better this time, please.” Eddie reached for your hand, pulling them off your eyes. “Please, sweetheart, one more chance? I won’t… I won’t fuck it up.” 

You squeezed his hand, body aching, yearning to lean into him. To agree, to nod and let him love on you, love you. To give him another chance, to see him wake up in the bed next to you, back in the house with the kids all the time. 

But you couldn’t. 

For them. Jude and Lucy had a hard enough time with the divorce, understanding why you two were separating. How did you explain to kids that mommy and daddy were like the weather; good some days, disastrous the other? 

“I-I can’t, Eddie.” You whispered, looking at him with eyes shining. “Jude and Lucy…That’s not- This isn’t good for them.” Your breath shuttered, heart breaking in your chest. 

Eddie’s own heart was breaking, you could see it on his face. “I just need time. I don’t know.” You admitted, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “But now, I just can’t now.” 

Eddie nodded, swallowing around his own heart breaking. “Alright,” He nodded. “Whatever you decide, I’ll… I’ll always support you. I’ll always love you, too. No matter what.” 

Your lip wobbled, squeezing his hand tight in yours. “Thank you.” You whispered. “I just need some time, Eddie.” 

“I’ve got time. I’ll wait.” Eddie nodded, pressing a kiss to your knuckles gently. “Always here for you.” He pulled you close to him, arms wrapped around your frame, squeezing you tight to his chest. 

For a moment, you relaxed, let yourself feel at peace as he held you. Allowed yourself that selfishness in the still of the night. You’d stay like that for a while, until you sent him to the couch. “Things are confusing as it is for them. They don’t need to get their hopes up if they see us in the bed together.” And Eddie would do it, of course he would. He’d do it for you, for them, for the hope that he might one day get his family back to normal. Back to the way it should be. 

[maybanksprincess]

thigh riding.

warnings: thigh riding, fingers in mouth, kissing, jj cumming in his boxers, palming, tiny aftercare at the end.

summary: jj cums in his boxers to his pretty girlfriend riding his thigh <3

requested by this ask, (thank you anon!🤍)

it was 9:56 on a saturday night. your at jjs house and you had grown bored several hours ago. you were sick of scrolling on ur phone and seeing peoples instagram posts about their boring life.

you look over at your boyfriend in his gaming chair. he's wearing a wife beater and some grey sweatpants, his foot tapping the floor, softly drumming against the wood of the floorboard.

you can't help but bite your lip as you look at him, the way his arms flex, along his hands quickly pressing the buttons on his controller. you catch yourself pressing your thighs together in attempt to get some relief from the throbbing on your core.

you would've said something way sooner about wanting attention, but you couldn't bring yourself to draw your eyes away from how sexy he looked playing his video games.

you decide you want some attention, so you stand up, adjusting your shorts and then walking over to his gaming chair where his setup is.

He has his computer screen on the desk, along with a keyboard with crumbs of weed on it, (of course). Theres a joint, freshly rolled, beside his mouse.

you take a seat on his lap, straddling his thigh, and wrapping your arms around his neck. You bury your face in his shoulder and try to forget about the ache between your legs.

JJ immediately pauses his game, turning his attention to you, and setting down his controller on the messy desk.

"hey baby, what's wrong?" he asks in that raspy voice that never fails to turn you on. he looks at you with those baby blue eyes that make your heart race and your thighs clench.

"jus' wanted to be held..." you mumble, a little pout forming on your lips.

he can see the way your thighs clench as you look at his arms, and his lips involuntarily curve into a smirk. "yeah? you jus' wanted some attention, huh baby?" he can already feel his cock start to stir in his pants, and he shifts around, trying to get comfortable with you sitting on his leg all pretty like that.

in the process of him shifting around, his knee bumps up to your core, your eyes fly open and go wide, a high-pitched moan falling from your lips suddenly.

his smirk grows even wider "did that feel good mama?" he already knows the answer, but he wants to hear it out of your mouth.

you nod and start to ground your pussy on his thigh, the wetness in your panties starting to seep through onto his grey sweatpants.

jj groans at the sight, "mm your gettin' so messy f' me baby. keep riding my thigh. mhm jus' like that" he bites his lip to keep himself from pathetically groaning at the sight of you riding his thigh.

he reaches over with the hand that isnt on your waist to palm himself through his sweatpants. his eyes roll back, and he thinks about how good it would feel to be inside of you.

he starts to hear your breathing get heavier, your movements more frantic. "are you close baby?" he asks in that soft voice, gently tracing his veiny fingers along your thigh.

you nod, and your eyes roll back as you continue to ride his thigh. you can feel the pressure in your core building up and his sweet praises have you at the very edge.

"cmon sweet girl, 's okay. you gonna cum f' me?" he asks while using one hand to brush your hair away from your damp forehead, pushing your hair gently behind your shoulders. he sticks his two long digits into your mouth to help with the pressure.

at his praise, and warm fingers gently weighing on your tongue, the pressure in your stomach snaps, and your orgasm rips through.

at the sight of you riding out your orgasm, and the feel of your warm cum coating his thigh, his cock twitches in his pants and he cums, shooting thick ropes of white cum in his black calvin cleins.

he groans softly, still caressing your thigh, gently squeezing the flesh.

after a few moments of silence, he speaks. "you good baby?"

you continue to pant softly, mumbling out a soft "mhm"

he nods, and turns off his gaming device, and scooping you up in his arms. he carries you over to his bed and you two cuddle for the night <3

[pinkthrone445]

-My wife-

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Gender:SMUT, hurt.

Warnings: Witchy SMUT! Strap on use, magic, insults. Spoilers from the series.

Summary: after loosing your wife, you beg the witch to take you to the road to find her.

An: Thank you @neverfindmegone for the icon babyyyy ❤️ I love it so much

-"Agnnes... Love... Wake up baby..."-a soft voice sounded on the ears of the woman, that voice was sweet, inviting, peaceful-"Please wake up Aggy" - The soft pet name made her smile in her dreams, soft hands caressed her arms-"I'm begging you, wake up, I need you..." - The voice distorted, making her frown on her peaceful dream-"YOU ARE FREAKING ME OUT, COME BACK! WAKE UP AGATHA!!" - a pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and shook her, a high pitch scream made her wake up, sitting straight on the bed, her heart beating like a drum. She looked around the room scared, everything was empty, quiet, dark. Her chest raised along with her scared breathing. She tried to remember the sweet face that pronounced those soft words in her dream, but she couldn't quite place it. She looked at herself and she was completely naked and confused, she felt like she where slepping for 3 years straight.

She remembered something about a case, founding a dead body... Then a girl slipping into her house and interrogating her, getting her arrested. Also another detective talking to her... Something about a morgue and she reliving all the stages that Wanda made the hex live through... Fuck! How long she had been trapped there?

She got up from bed and ran outside still naked, talking to her neighbors she found out that she had been trapped on that fake  reality inside the hex for 3 years and she didn't remember anything from it.

She went back to the house and tried to use her powers but nothing happened, her house was a normal home and the only thing she recognized there was her rabbit.

From the basement she heard noises inside the house, grabbing a spoon, she went to investigate. She pinpointed the surce of the noise from a closet, ready to strike, she open the door, only to find you there, a girl she didn't knew but that she remembered from the night before when she "arrested" you. You were on your knees tied up and with tape on your mouth, your eyes showed a little fear and something else behind them

-"Ah, so that arrest was less like an arrest and more like a kidnapping" - she said looking at you-"But if you are real and not an invention of my prisoned mind, that means..."-at that moment the door bursted open, a girl in black that you have seen at the house the night before, attacked Agatha using a knife and her powers, she was clearly winning, but Agatha was incredible persuasive with her words and she managed to convince Rio to wait for her to get her powers back so they could have a fair fight. The scene was brutal but sexy at the same time, full of passion and sexual tension that made you feel sick on your stomach.

When the lady in black went away, Agatha payed attention to you again

-"Oh right..."-she left you there and went to change muttering a few nonsenses and worries. You started jumping trying to follow her- "The house is yours random girl, make sure to tell the revenge seekers that I said hi"-she said without any intentions to untie you before leaving. With your tongue you manage to unstick the tape on your mouth

-"Take me to the road"-You yelled at her and she stoped on her tracks walking to where you were

-"Come again?" - she told you getting closer, taking the tape from your mouth

-"Take me to the witches road" - You repeated-"Please?" - You smiled at her

-"The witches road doesn't exists..."-she spoked with a anoying face

-"You are lying" - You knew she was

-"Am I?" - she played dumb

-"That's just what real witches say to keep the amateurs out"-she seemed surprised to hear that-"The road will give you what you desire most if you make it to the end... And I can. I will" - You said surely and she looked you up and down, but after a few seconds, she left you behind again

-"The road is no place for a teen" - she told you without looking at you

-"I'm in my latest 20!"-You screamed but she didn't seemed to care

-"I don't know where you heard from the road..." - she began to explain

-"Books, the balad, legends, lore, my wife..."-you tried to explain but she continued talking

-"But it will kill you" - she assured

-"It didn't kill you" - You replied

-"I'm exceptional" - she said arrogantly

-"That's my point... I know a lot about you and that's why I came here last night... To break that spell you where under..."-You confessed and she seemed impressed

-"Well, if you can break a spell made by the Scarlett witch, why do you need the road?" - she asked and you sat on her couch, jumping so much around made you tired

-"I don't seek power... I seek someone... The road promises that what you are missing, will wait you at its end... She is what I'm missing..."-You said honestly and she thought about it for a second, but then she stood and walked away

-"Nope, too risky, no time" - she left you behind again

-"This people that are seeking you are dangerous, do you think you can outrun them with no power at all?"-she turned around after hearing you. That seemed to convinced her, because she brought a par of scissors and told you that you were driving.

She explained that you needed a coven to get to the witches road and that you could find one practically close.

You ended up finding the first one on a pretty cheap store that could tell your future. After some very good tactics of Agatha, you found out that she truly was a witch and she ended up joining her coven, also she gave you the names of the next witches and you found them all, convincing them in different ways, mostly blackmailing them or making them feel shame, but at the end all of them appeared on the house ready to walk the road.

You had a near death experience but at the end you all finally found the road and used it to escape the Salem seven.

The road felt weird, the constant fog and the dark sky, felt like if someone was constantly following you or watching you and it made you act weird too. You decided to say close to the only person that you knew following Agatha every where, and that didn't went unnoticed by the others.

As soon as Sharon or Mrs Heart began to talk, everyone started bickering about each other, about being followed by creepy people, about what trials were about to happen and about how everyone was powerless

-"She is here and clearly she isn't even a witch" - One of the youngest members of the coven spoke pointing at Agatha's neighbor

-"You just need to be a witch to open the path, but no to walk the road..."-you murmured without stopping walking

-"Talking about no witches, who are you anyway?" - one of them asked, you weren't sure what they names were yet because you had only known them a few hours

-"I'm *blurred words*"-for you, what you just said was clear as water but they weren't able to hear you

-"My oh my, someone put a sigil on this girl" - Lilia, the older one said and you looked at her with confusion

-"A what?" - You asked confused and they all turned to look at Agatha.

-"Don't look at me, I didn't put that fancy glam on her, sigils are beneath me" - she said with a disgusting face

-"Is sigil a spell?" - You asked them

-"It's a redaction spell to hide something, in this case you from witch folk" - Now it made sense why when you told all your life to Agatha while you were on the car, there was no reaction at all from her part.  -"Looks like Agatha brought a little mystery with her, probably trying to get her all to herself" - The one with the punk vibe said and you suddenly felt threatened but Agatha covered your body with hers, protecting you from them

-"Look, we don't know why someone put that sigil on her, she could be something special or she could be a pest that a cranky witch tried to hide under a rock, we can crack her open later. The real value lies at the end of the road..."-she tried to get their attention away from you

-"What are you trying to find at the end of the road? "-one of them asked looking at you

-"My wife..."-you whispered

-"The road can't bring dead people back" - all of them said at the same time

-"She is not dead. She is just... Lost" - You confessed

-"Do you ever think to talk to the police about a missing person instead of risking your life here on the road?-the tallest spoke and you signed

-"Nobody believed me, her body was there, but someone else completely different was inside, she doesn't even recognizes me... I just want her back" - You talked looking at Agatha sideways and Lilia's noticed but she said nothing-"Wait, where is Mrs Heart?" - You asked at the same time a scream was heard, leaving you subject behind and running to find her.

When you found her, the road was almost swallowing her but you managed to help her and took her out to continue down the road.

When the first trial arrived, you found a gorgeous house but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching you. Everyone started to drink wine but you quickly refused

-"I can't drink, I... I was an alcoholic" - You lied, scared of them pushing you to drink

-"Who wasn't?" - Agatha jocked and walked away with her glass on her hand.

Soon you found out that they had been poisoned, but following the instructions of the potions witch, you could make the antidote, but it wasn't enough for your ex neighbor that sadly passed away.

Mrs Heart death didn't affected the purple witch, but you couldn't avoid feeling a deep pain on your chest, and rage because Agatha didn't even cared a little even though it was her fault that she got there.

The potions witch took you to a side after burring Mrs Heart to warn you about getting close to Agatha, but even though she was nice for doing that, you knew her a lot more than what they knew, even though she wasn't acting like the person you used to know.

As the time began to pass, you started to get a little mad at Agatha and her careless reaction to losses and pain. Also another thing that contributed more to your anger was the summon of Rio, when she appeared she started to hoard all the witch's attention. It made sense for them to feel attracted to each other, powerful witches, both had many years and they seem to have some kind of history together, but you couldn't avoid to wonder if Agatha really didn't remembered her past life at all. You didn't knew what would be worse, if she didn't remembered at all or if she remembered something and decided not to pay attention to it.

Your soul craved for her attention, for her touches, for her caresses, for just a love glance towards you, but you were getting none of that.

One particular night, after having a talk between you all around a fire, Agatha stood up and you thought it would be a good opportunity to talk to her alone, to see that even with that stupid sigil she could understand anything that you were trying to say. But the road was a tricky place and you got lost, and by the time you found her, Rio and her were about to kiss, thing you couldn't watch and decided to walk away with your clenching heart on your hands.

You were feeling so bad that you tried to stay alone for a bit to avoid crying in front of the others, but the loneliness didn't lasted long, because after a few minutes you heard something walking to were you were. You were supposed to be scared, but you didn't cared much about it at the moment.

After a few seconds Agatha sat beside you on the excluded part of the road, smiling like she always did

-"So... Why are you angry?" - she asked picking a little branch of the floor but you didn't answer to her or even look that way-"It's because you saw Río and I almost kissing?" - she asked and you looked at her surprised but still mad-"Yes, I saw you spying through the branches..." - she said in a mocking tone

-"And what?" - You asked trying to ignore the pain in your heart

-"Nothing, I just fund it funny... You know, you always get mad when I call you pet, but the moment that I turn my attention to someone else, you trow a tantrum like the little whiny pet you are" - she spoke with the same confidence that she always showed

-"I can't believe how disgusting you are" - You grumbled

-"You can't blame me, you are the one that got into my house looking for me. You always say that you are looking for your wife because you love her so much but I found it funny considering how obsessed you are with me. Pet" - she used that name again and your blood boiled, she was such a mean and awful person to you and all the people, that she deserved a punishment, she deserved to feel how painful it felt to be near her. You lifted your hand ready to slap her but she caught your hand mid air and pulled you closer, your face mare inches from hers-"See? You are not even trying to get away from me. You are obsessed with me and I bet that no matter how much you hate me, you can't stop thinking about me fucking you and making you mine" - she said in an arrogant and mocking way, pulling her lips out towards you. In your mind you kept repeating how she almost kissed Rio and how much you wished it were you, and before you could convince yourself how wrong this was, you connected your lips with hers. You always liked slow and full of emotions kisses, but with Agatha, that wasn't an option. Her lips were soft but her movements where rough, she sucked your lips, she bit them and when you opened your mouth, she easily slipped inside to declare dominance.

No matter how much you tried to convince yourself that this wasn't rigth and that you should stop, your body would react in the opposite way.

You wanted to run away, but your body keept releasing sinful low moans every time her teeth pulled your lip. You wanted to stop but your hands kept pulling at her coat trying to make her be close to you. You wanted for her to show you any little bit of affection before doing this but you could feel how ruined your panties were with how aroused you were thinking about she fucking you roughly.

Even though you were walking for a little while trying to get far away from the others, the road had a mind of its own and you knew you were close to the others no matter what you did and that in any moment they could walk where you were and find Agatha and you making out, but for some reason that only made it more exciting.

The witch lifted you from where you were sitting and placed you on her lap, making your legs fit around her waist. Even when she was powerless, her hands were still powerful. With incredible precision, in one pull, your entire blouse opened, leaving your breasts clenched by your bra in full view, your breathing was hectic and that only made the up and down of your chest just sexier. You could see how Agatha's mouth literally filled with saliva looking at you, she licked her lips and her hands squeezed your waist trying to control herself somehow. Her mouth opened and she started sucking your neck, biting it, marking you as her, your eyes closed and you let your head fall back just to give her more access.

Her nails scratched your torso, from the valley of your chest to the end of your abdomen where your pants made her stop, sending chills on your body. Her expert hand pulled your boobs out of your bra without having to unclasp it and started to squeeze them, making it a little painful but so good at the same time. Her mouth started to suck your other breast while murmuring something that you couldn't quite place, making a mess on your chest, letting her saliva drip down your body, making you feel sticky and more sinful that what you already were.

With great strength, she lifted you up a little from her lap and pulled your pants down, letting you only on your underwear. She seemed rushed but you didn't wanted her to stop so you didn't said nothing.

The air on the road made you have chills and your body shook with desire, thing that didn't went unseen from her and made her smile arrogantly again.

Still holding you up, with her other hand she opened her clothes and you were surprised to see a bulge on her panties

-"I still have a few tricks on my sleeve"-she moved her panties to one side and pulled out a big purple strapped dildo and you realized that while she sucked your boobs, she was conjuring a spell to get that toy. Still surprised and lost by that, she carefully touched your panties, she immediately could feel the pool that you had between your legs-"And you keep saying that you hate me?" - she asked and you rolled your eyes trying to not giving her the satisfaction even when she was right. She let you drop on her lap, making you feel preasure between your legs because of the big toy and a moan escaped your mouth, her hand quickly went to your throat grabbing it lightly-"Behave pet, don't roll your eyes or you will regret it" - she told you and you nodded, completely at her mercy. You thought about teasing her, but you were really neddy and you were scared that if you pushed her too much, she would leave you rigth there alone.

Her hand went from your neck to your jaw and she pulled you for another hungry kiss.

Your hips, with a mind of their own, started to move against the big toy that was between Agathas legs, making her groan this time too.

One of her fingers slipped inside your panties, between your pussy and the toy and began to expertly masagge your clit making you see stars. Her thumb manteined her pace on your clit but her longer finger found your entrance and began to tease it, testing how open you were and finding very little resistance when two of her fingers easily slipped inside your wet entrance, your body trembled in her arms, adjusting to the feeling. She made a few pumps inside you building that orgasm that you were so close to reach, but then she suddenly stoped, taking her hand out of your panties and sucking her fingers with the cockiest smile that you had ever seen and you whined for the lack of contact

-"You are fucking delicious, keep lying to yourself that you hate me, I've bet you had never been this wet for someone else" - she said and slipped her hand inside your panties again, moving them to the side so she could make the toy grind against your soaked pussy making it fully coated with your juices.

She easily lifted you a little and found your entrance again, slipping slowly inside you, grinning as the purple dildo desapeared inside you. It was surprising how big it was and how easy you were taking it inside.

As you completely sat on the purple dildo that now was inside you connecting you fully with her, you grabbed her face, making her look at you, looking for something deeper in her eyes than blind desire, for a few minutes you thought that her walls were coming down, but she shucked her head out of your grasp and hid her face in the crook of your neck close to your ear, slowly starting to move her hips

-"Will you be a good pet and make me hear your little whimpers that you were doing earlier and gets me this hard?" - she spoke in a deep voice, clearly aroused. You knew that toy inside you was part or of her spell, but apparently she made it possible for her to feel it too inside you.

You began to move your hips along with her following slowly every movement. You could clearly see the preasure of the big toy inside your lower on your stomach, making you moan lauder.

As the pace began to encrease, your movements became sloppier and you reached a point where you were completely riding her strap, with your boobs bouncing and your hands scratching her back hurting her but in a pleasure way.

Her arms find the depth of your waist and hold you, making your ridind easier.

While you climax was getting closer hers too, and you could swear that you could feel her pulsating inside you.

Her mouth went to kiss you again while you desperately ride her and in a few seconds you came, your pussy clenching so hard that it was difficult for her to keep moving any longer and she came with you too, with the toy inside you, feelings your every move, every clench.

You collapsed on her body and when you could feel your hips again, you lifted yourself from the toy and tried to put your clothes on sitting on the log that you were at the beginning.

-"F-Fuck Aggy, that was amazing" - You said trying to catch your breath beside her, but she frowned and stood up from where you were making the purple dildo desapear and closing her clothes again, looking at you confused and remembering that dream that she had before coming to the road, the one where someone called her name, "Please wake up Aggy"... She looked at you

-"What did you said?" - she asked a little mad and lost

-"I said that this was amazing... Are you okay Agatha, you seem pale"- You sat more straight watching her, not fully trusting your legs to stand up yet

-"Yes... I... I will see how the others are doing" - she left you there confused and alone.

After a few minutes you went with the other too.

As time began to pass (you weren't sure how time was inside the road but that perpetual night made you feel like if you were stuck on a loop) Agatha started to ignore you and put more distance than before and that hurt you, specially because you thought that after sex a spark of connection would revive, but nothing happened.

Trying not to let that affect you too much, you stayed near to Lilia because for some reason she made you feel safe, safer that what the purple witch made you feel.

-"So... How was your wife? Like was she a good woman?"- The older asked trying to make conversation and take you away from your sad place and you smiled

-"She is...was... The best. She always treated me with such care, she was always protective. Every morning she woke up earlier to make my favorite coffee before going to work. She always brought me flowers, the most gorgeous bouquets, always with some little purple flowers like lavender between the other bigger ones..."-when you mentioned the color, Lilia frowned, like trying to find something behind the original gesture-"... She held  my hand in the most soft ways and she always hugged me when we watched movies together or to sleep, she always complemented my food and she always brought the dessert when I cooked..."-your voice was full of nostalgia and sadness and your eyes kept wandering off to Agatha every time you spoke and Lilia couldn't avoid but noticed that. She was about to ask something else but she yelled instead

-"You are pregnant?!"- You looked at her confused and everyone turned to look at you. After a few seconds Lilia's mind came back and she smiled at you - "She sounds so lovely..."-everyone keept looking at her "What?" - she asked unaware of what she said before

-"You are pregnant?" - Rio asked and looked at your belly, instinctively your hands went there in a protective way and everyone realized it was true

-"You ARE pregnant?! I mean, I knew my dick was pretty magical but I didn't knew it had that much power" - Agatha made fun of the situation and you frown feeling vulnerable, you didn't wanted them to find out that

-"Please don't give yourself too much credit, this happened before coming here" - You said avoiding looking at her

-"You two had sex here?" - Lilia asked and you didn't even dared to look at her-"Oh honey... What about your wife?" - she seemed truly concerned- "I didn't imagine you as the cheating tipe..."-she seemed disappointed and you felt sick about talking with them about this

-"I didn't cheat... I would never" - You said looking at her eyes, for some reason you cared for her approval

-"Keep telling yourself that but we both know what happened..."-Agatha said in a mocking tone and you roled your eyes

-"I'm not a cheater! Why you don't fucking remember me Aggy?" - You looked into the witch's eyes

-"Oh god..."-Alice said with the pieces falling into place

-"... You didn't cheat, Agatha IS your wife..."-Lilia said and Agatha opened her in surprise-"The stolen glances, the love in your eyes, the constant search for her attention..."

-"That... It's not true... I don't even know you, the first time I saw you in all my life it's when you broke into my house..."-she said no sure about her own words, she didn't remember anything from her last 3 years after all. When Agatha understood why you were there and why you went after her, even if she didn't belive you, you finally felt how a weight was lifted from you, the sigil was broken

-"I didn't broke into your house, it is our house! We lived there for 3 years! But the last days you went crazy and didn't recognize me and kicked me out... And I came back for my clothes when you started chasing me down the road yelling that you were a police woman and that you were going to arrest me... You worked at the supermarket for God's sake! That's how we met... "-you said mad at her

-"That can't be... You are a liar" - she insisted

-"Who do you think that made you food all those years when you couldn't cook even to save your life?! Who do you think that made you company and kept you safe an loved? You truly don't remember my hand holding yours? Many nights spend slepping together? The way how our bodies fit perfectly together?! Nothing?! - You yelled and her eyes went everywhere trying to stop the memories that were appearing on her head

-"All that reality wasn't me, wasn't real! I was just a puppet, a prisoner of my own mind" - Her voice trembled looking at you

-"It was real to me!" - You snapped back and you felt pain in your stomach, you knew you had to calm down

-"I... I'm not that woman and I'm not your wife... And I don't know how that baby appeared, but it isn't mine..."-the witch said standing firmly in front of you and you signed

-"The baby is yours even if you don't want to accept it, I even bet it will look more like you than me, but you are right... You are not my wife anymore... She is not longer there, the only thing I can see in your eyes is your selfinesh for power and I know you will kill anyone in your path to get it, even if it's your baby or your friend, like you had Miss Sharon killed... There is no point for me to keep going down the road when who I'm looking for is dead"-You said with hurt in your voice and started walking on the opposite direction when you were going

-"Where are you going?!" - Lilia yelled

-"To find an exit to this stupid place" - You yelled back and all the witches turned back to look at Agatha

-"She won't last a day alone..."-Jennifer said with consern

-"That is not my problem..."-she flipped her cape and walked on the opposite direction to were you went.

[kjhmyg]

blooming

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader trope: sunshine oc x grumpy jk au: florist!oc x tattoo artist!jk wc: 1k

a drabble request from anon for sunshine protector jk. honestly was doubting the capability of writing jk as a grump but anon, i hope i did it justice and i hope you like it! <3

the tiny bells attached to the entrance chimes as you enter the shop, the smell of fresh flowers greeting you so kindly in the morning. the hour leading up to opening is one of your favourite parts of the day. your flowers are your babies; you sing to them, you change their water, place them gently back into their little spaces, assemble new bouquets to put up for sale, then choose which ones go up front on the daily display.

upstairs, you hear the clinking and clanking of your neighbours. the tattoo parlour above starts a little later than your flower shop, usually seeing their first customer around noon. an unlikely combination, one which leaves most of their clients confused as they step inside, till you point out the steps to the right of your shop which leads up to the parlour. 

but you don’t complain. it brings a nice mix to your client pool. besides, your other favourite part of the day is getting to see your favourite tattoo artist. 

“ahem⎼”

you turn on your heel, snapping out of your thoughts. putting on your best service voice, you were ready to greet a customer, only to find the next best thing. “oh,” your face softens, “good morning jungkook.” 

“morning.” he leans against your counter and nods to the spread of flowers laid out on the long table behind you. “are those flowers that interesting? didn’t even hear me come through the doors, did you?”

“sorry,” you smile brightly, and he can’t help but to mirror it. “i was looking through this customer’s request. it’s a little odd.” 

“why?” 

“because see,” you bring the request ticket over from the table and lean over the counter so he can see it, “these flowers don’t go well together at all. and i know, i know, it’s a custom order. but as a florist, i should be able to tell them if i think it’s not a good combination right? i mean the colours are all over the place. look, you can’t have too many bold colours together, it’ll take away the beauty from each flower. plus it'll look so messy. but at the same time it’s their choice and they are paying for it so i don’t know.” 

jungkook looks at you with a blank expression. his arms are crossed on the counter, and his freshly washed hair rests nicely on his shoulders, curved at the ends. 

“what?” you ask him, shrugging like you didn’t just spit out an entire rant contemplating someone’s custom order.

“is it really that deep?” 

you give him an exasperated look. of course he wouldn’t get it.

he raises a brow, then smirks at your silence. you’re never quiet. not for long anyways. for a moment he wonders if he's hurt your feelings. he tends to do that sometimes. “i’m sure you’ll figure it out. besides, bold colours can look good together.” 

“but not always.” you drum your fingers on the counter, pursing your lips in thought. 

jungkook keeps staring. till your eyes flutter back to him, and you lock eyes for far too long and your heart starts racing. he blinks away first. dropping his bag and leaving his helmet on your counter, he walks across your shop and takes a look around before plucking out four flowers. two yellow flowers and two black ones. 

“hey!” you protest, “those are expensive!” 

jungkook ignores your nagging. he places them on the counter top and pairs them up, one yellow daisy with one black hellebore. then he starts intertwining their stems, creating a tiny knot at the bottom for each pair. the yellow and black flowers sit nicely next to the other. “see? they look good together, don’t they?” 

he reaches over and places one of them into the front pocket of your apron. the other, he slides across the counter in front of you. 

“or maybe not,” he shrugs, “you’re the florist here.” 

“execution could be better,” you giggle, admiring the flowers in your palm, “but it’s cute. maybe you should rethink your career. come and work with me instead!” 

jungkook lingers just to watch the way your eyes twinkle as you twirl the flowers between your fingers. all he did was tie two flowers together, yet you act like a kid with a new toy. and when you look up at him again and give him the widest grin, he decides it’s time to go (else he’d spend the entire day down here). 

he starts collecting his belongings, swinging his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his headgear. “oh,” he says, remembering, “this is for you.” 

he’d placed the cup carrier aside earlier while talking to you. jungkook checks the order plastered on the side of the cup before placing it in front of you. 

“wait but,” you start, “i don’t drink cof⎼”

“it’s earl grey.” 

your smile drops momentarily out of surprise. you had mentioned a while ago how you couldn’t stand the taste of coffee. 

“later, flower girl.” jungkook makes a turn for the steps. 

after the first few steps, he pauses when he feels something tugging on his arm. he turns to find you standing there, with the flower he’d made earlier in your hand. getting on your tiptoes, you tuck his hair back and gently place the daisy and hellbore combination behind his ear. 

“aw, you look pretty!” his brows furrow and you know he’s probably going to remove it as soon as he makes it up the steps but you don’t care. you wrap around him briefly before letting go. “thank you.” 

before he can say anything else, the bell chimes and you welcome your first customer of the day. jungkook walks up the steps with a roll of his eyes, listening to how excited you get as you go through your collection of flowers. how you could be so chirpy at this hour, he’ll never understand.

upstairs, he drops his stuff in his corner and brings suga his cup of coffee while sipping on his own. the older friend, sanitising his tools for the day, stops mid-clean. “what the hell is that?”

he refers to the flower behind jungkook’s ear. “oh. nothing.” 

“ah…” suga smiles, accepting his drink. “you and flower girl have been getting along well.” 

“she’s nice to talk to.” jungkook says, not thinking much of it. suga scoffs, knowing his friend too well. 

jungkook walks back to his corner, removing the flowers. his hand hovers over the trash can, flowers in his palm. he looks at it again, then smiles. instead, he places them on his desk, right next to the pressed flower coaster you had given him months back. he chuckles, looking at the contrast of these items to the rest of his workspace. 

sighing, he starts his day, with a flower blooming in his heart.

[forget-you-morelike-fuck-you]

That's What Friends Are For Pt. 2- E.M.

I'm so thankful for all of the love on part one! I love each and every one of you, and I hope that you enjoy!

The morning after Eddie helps you with your first orgasm, you get to experience more new things.

Part 1

Masterlist

TW- 18+ Minors DNI, smut, cursing, pnv, first time, pet names (angel, sweetheart, baby), a lil crying (the good kind), slight fingering, handjob (lmk if I missed any!)

Pairings- Virgin!Bestfriend!Reader x Eddie

Word Count- 4,402

(Gifs not mine, Credit to owners!)

With a deep breath, your mind comes close to consciousness, rolling over into the warm being lying next to you. You’re about to delve back into the depths of sleep when you feel his arm snake over your waist, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss into your hair. You hum in satisfaction, cracking your eyes open with a smile forming on your lips, eyes searching for Eddie.  

You look up at him through the bleary film of sleep and find him looking down at you, the morning light filtering through the curtains and highlighting the sweet freckles littered across his nose and cheeks. The bun he slept in is almost completely unraveled, wild curls formed in a sort of halo around him. “Good morning, gorgeous,” He says quietly. He still has the rasp of sleep in his voice, so you know he hasn’t been awake long. You take another deep breath and stretch your toes down, arms up in a catlike motion that loosens your muscles.  

“Morning, handsome,” Your sleepy smile makes him chuckle, and he presses another kiss to your hair, the hand over your waist rubbing sweet circles on the exposed skin where your shirt had hiked in your sleep. 

“How are you feeling?” There’s a quirk of his eyebrow, almost imperceptible. There’s a subtext there: Do you remember and/or regret what we did last night? 

You stretch up a hand to his face, letting your thumb brush over his cheekbone before gently pulling him down to meet your lips. It’s a sweet kiss, slow and thoughtful. Last night was fucking awesome, it says. “I feel perfect,” If Eddie were a cartoon, he swears he’d have hearts and stars floating around his head at the way you look, the way you feel, the way you speak to him, and he curses himself for not snatching you up sooner. “What time is it?” It’s a Saturday. You don’t have to work today, but checking the clock when you wake up is always part of your routine.  

Eddie reaches for the windowsill next to his bed to pick up his watch, to glance at the face. His lean arms and broad hands bring back memories from last night so abruptly it almost makes your head spin. You feel a twitch between your thighs. “A little after ten,” He says, putting the watch back. “Why, do you have plans today?”  

“No, not really. But we could go to that farmer’s market later today if we wanted to. I like that stand that sells all those different kinds of honey,” Your hand finds his chest, fingers lightly tracing the tattoos you’ve memorized every detail of.  

“And what would we do if we didn’t want to?” He asks, eyebrow raised playfully. You feel your heart leap in your chest, what would you do? 

“I dunno. We could go get something from Benny’s. Or go see a movie,” You suggest. Eddie plays like he’s lost in thought, fingers drumming on his chin as he considers the options. “Or... We could lay in bed all day.” 

His eyes flick to you, “That sounds like a good option,” The lopsided, dimpled smile you love so much pulls at his lips before he dips his head down to capture you in a kiss again, and you giggle into the kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest, calloused fingers digging lightly into your side. When you part, you rub your noses against each other, both of you still smiling. 

“Can I ask you something?” You mutter, the cogs turning in your head. 

“Anything,” Eddie presses a kiss to your nose, then your forehead. Your cheeks are beginning to ache from smiling so much. 

“I know we didn’t really say it last night, but I was wondering if we were like... boyfriend-girlfriend now? Or... I don’t know. Are we putting a label on us?” There’s a bit of hesitation in your voice, but not enough to really alarm Eddie. 

“Do you want to be boyfriend-girlfriend?” He asks, eyes widened a bit. You bite your lip and nod sheepishly, your fingers curling around the hair at the back of his neck. You didn’t think it was possible for his smile to be any more radiant than usual, but it is then as he leans in to kiss you again, the hand on your waist going to your face, cradling your cheek and jaw in his large hand. It makes you dizzy, and you run your hands down his back, the kiss deepening as you open your mouths to each other. As you rake your hands back up Eddie’s back, there’s a noise from the back of his throat, one that sets your nerves on fire. It’s so beautiful that you do it again, with the same glorious result. 

There’s a pounding in your chest as Eddie moves his lips down to your neck, and yours miss his skin so much you press them anywhere you can reach— the edge of his jaw, his shoulder, the base of his neck—and when Eddie sucks at that sweet spot below your ear, you let out a little whine, hands tightening around his lean frame again. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” He mutters against your skin. “I’m such an idiot for not doing this sooner,” 

You want to protest, to tell him that you’re the idiot for not bucking up sooner, but his hand roams up your side, over your ribs and you can’t help but sigh. “Eddie...” It’s all you can get out. It’s like you’re on drugs all over again, but the only drug here is the intoxicating feeling of Eddie—his hands, his mouth, his body—all over you. 

Eddie moves so that he’s hovering over you between your legs, and you whimper, loudly and unexpectedly, as he grinds against you. You can feel him throbbing through your shorts and his pants, and it’s the most erotic thing you’ve ever felt. Of course, that position doesn’t have much competition at this point, but nevertheless, it’s like your head is stuffed with cotton candy. You instinctively push your hips up to meet his, and Eddie moans again, a needier sound this time that has you feeling almost feral.  

Your hands fumble around, searching for the waistband of his pants, desperate to feel him, but Eddie pulls back, both of you panting lightly. “Are you sure you want to do this? I know I said if you still wanted to in the morning, we could, but I...” He looks away, not being able to find the words. 

You bite your lip, eyes wide and wanting. “Eddie, look at me,” You plead. There’s a worry on his face as he does, his chocolate eyes soft and gorgeous. “I want you so bad I feel like I could burst into flames. I have wanted you for as long as I’ve known you. I have thought of this, dreamed of this, for years. You are my best friend and I trust you with my life. So please...” 

“All I’m saying is that we don’t have to do this now. We can wait if you—” 

“Edward Munson, if you don’t get down here and do me right now I swear to god!” You threaten, and Eddie lets out a bubble of laughter from his throat at your seriousness.  

“Okay, okay, quit yanking my leg! I just wanted to make sure.” You smile at his smile and then you’re kissing again, all tongues and teeth as you paw at his pants again, nearly drooling at the thought of touching him. Eddie’s hand smooths down your body to your thigh, holding it up against his hip, fingertips digging deliciously into the meat of it.  

“Please,” You gasp between kisses, “c-can I touch you?” Eddie groans, his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head. 

“God, yes,” You finally manage to get your fingers below his waistband, searching for his long, throbbing length that’s already painfully straining against his pants. When you touch it, it’s like you’ve been shocked by an electrical socket, right between your thighs. It’s so much warmer than you expected it to be, and softer, the skin smooth save for the thick vein running up the side. Though you can’t see it yet you know it’s going to be absolutely perfect. You gently grasp it as best you can in your position and give a experimental stroke. “Oh, my god. Fuck, angel,” Eddie gasps, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. You bite your lip and stroke again, studying the way it feels in your hand. You’ve heard about what this is like from the few girlfriends you have. You can’t do it too hard, or it hurts like a bitch, You remember your friend saying. When you slide your hand up, you feel moisture dripping from the tip, and you gasp at the sensation. It’s hot and thick, and you get the sudden urge to taste it, but you hold back.  

Eddie’s having a rough time focusing on anything other than the feeling of his cock in your hand. The sounds he’s making have you getting hotter by the second, but you’re enjoying how much Eddie’s enjoying this, so you don’t mind. You try squeezing a little harder, not much, just enough to make a difference, and Eddie bites into your collarbone lightly, making you shiver. His hand on your thigh grips you harder. “If you- If you want me to last, sweetheart,” He pants, “You’re gonna need to stop that soon,” He involuntarily ruts into your hand then with another beautiful whimper. 

Suddenly, you don’t know if you want him to last. As much as you want him inside you, you also really enjoy the thought of making him unravel just like this. You gently pull your hand away, collecting the drips of precum at the tip before pulling out of his pants, and you marvel at the clear, sticky liquid pooled on your fingers before tentatively brushing it across your tongue. Eddie stares wide, mouth hung open like he’s seeing a fucking unicorn. “You’re fucking perfect,” He muses.  

You giggle, a blush growing on your cheeks. “I wanna see it,” You confess, eyes wide and doe-like. Eddie nods, his lips kiss swollen and pink as he sits up on his knees between your thighs. His fingers find the waistband of his pants and he shimmies them down, his cock bouncing up to lightly slap against his abdomen as he kicks the pants off his feet. “Oh my god,” You whisper.  

If you had to guess, you would say he’s about 7 inches. There’s a slight curve to it, and the tip is almost a hot pink and messy with precum. Your mouth starts watering again at the sight of it. Screw using your hand, you want him inside you. Now. “You want me to get your shorts off?” He asks, his voice husky from lust. You nod wildly, already lifting your butt off the mattress to help him. He hooks his fingers under the waistband and lowers his head to the tops of your thighs to kiss the skin there as he pulls them down. You let out a sharp whine at the new sensation and Eddie hums happily against you as you writhe beneath him. He sits up to pull the shorts from your legs to toss them to the floor with his pants, and just like last night, he looks at you beneath him like he’s just been served a gourmet meal. “So fucking beautiful,” You sit up then, reaching out to touch along his sides, breathing heavily as you press your lips to the space between his thighs and stomach. Eddie gasps above you, his head rolled back as you trace your tongue in little patterns, mirroring the path he took with his mouth on you. 

You reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, wanting to be naked with him, wanting for every inch of skin to touch him when he marks you from the inside. You reach up to his neck and pull him down with you, mouths finding each other as you rest your head back on Eddie’s pillow. Eddie takes his time to peruse your newly naked skin with his mouth, kissing over the mounds of your breasts before gently pulling a nipple into his mouth. You moan deeply, tangling your fingers through his hair as he sucks gently, running his tongue over the hardened bud before seeking the other one. “God, Eddie, fuck. Please, I need you... Please,” you beg, sending your hips up in search of him. Eddie shushes you, bringing his lips back to yours.  

“I know, baby, I know,” He murmurs against your lips. “I’ve got you,” He leans over to his bedside table, pulling the drawer open. He fumbles through the junk for a moment before fishing out a little foil packet, which he rips open with his teeth. He tries putting the condom on with one hand while he supports himself with the other, but he fumbles, so you reach your hand down to help him, rolling it down to the base of his cock, earning another moan from him at the mere feeling of you. 

He looks back to your face, the hand not supporting him goes to your face, thumb brushing over your cheek. “This might hurt. I’m gonna go as slow as I can, but you’ll tell me if I need to stop, right?” He searches your eyes for any doubt. 

“I will,” You promise with a little nod. He mirrors your nod as he leans to kiss you again, and his hand goes down to the space between the two of you to position himself correctly to slide into you. He rubs the tip of his cock up and down your slit for a moment to spread the wetness before slowly, so slowly, he starts pushing himself past your tight entrance.  

You both gasp at the same time, clutching each other as you adjust. There’s a burn as you stretch open around him, and you’re not sure if going slow helps or hurts, but you can’t even think straight to decide. Behind the burn of being split open is a mind-crushing pleasure that has you curling your toes and arching your back. “Oh my god, oh my god,” You hear yourself cry. 

“I know, baby, fuck...” Eddie’s eyes are screwed shut, you assume to focus on not completely slamming into you. “So fucking tight, angel...” He mutters. It’s hard to keep your breath with the way you’re panting, but you try to focus on it as he inches into you. He whispers encouragement to you as he sinks in deeper and deeper until you feel him so deep you know he won’t be able to go any further.  

“Fuck, I feel so... full.” Your eyes screw shut as you feel the pressure of his head against your cervix. Eddie gives a strained chuckle and sighs. 

“I’m not even all the way in, sweetheart. I’m gonna have to do a better job warming you up next time. I just needed to fucking feel this,” He hangs his head against your chest, and your hands go to his hair, smoothing it out away from his face. You’re hips suddenly move on their own, and you both hiss a breath of pleasure at the delicious friction. “Oh fuck! Jesus, angel, you’re so fucking needy for it,” He moans, pressing hot, wet kisses to your shoulder before starting back up toward your face. 

“I-I’m sorry!” Your head is buzzing like a beehive, the only word you’re able to consciously focus on is EddieEddieEddieEddie. Eddie captures your lips again, your tongues smoothing across each other. 

“Don’t worry. I just didn’t expect it is all,” He heaves a breath, scrunching his eyes closed. “I- I think I need to start moving now, though. It’s a crime to sit still while I’m inside you,” The erotic praise sends another shockwave through you, and you nod.   

“Yeah, yeah, please do that,” You hang your head back on the pillow to let him do pretty much whatever he wants. You don’t know what you’re doing so you have to trust him to show you everything. He pulls out slowly, too, though not as slowly as he went in. You give a little whine as you feel the pleasure-pain again, and Eddie looks at you with alarmed eyes, but you nod at him for him to continue. He’s not all the way out when he starts pushing back in again, and you begin to feel more pleasure than pain. Your limbs are heavy and warm with pleasure as he starts setting a slow rhythm. 

Eddie’s hand hoists your thigh up around his hip again, and the new angle offers deeper pleasure than before, making you moan as he pushes in again. “Oh my god,” You whine, your fingertips grasping at the skin of his back. Your lips search for Eddie’s face, and you kiss across his cheek to his lips, feeling the vibration of his moan on your mouth.  

“You feel—so fucking—so fucking good, baby.” His words are strained, he’s so focused on going slow enough to not cause you pain, but he’s also suffering for it. He wants nothing more than to be able to fuck you deep into the mattress, hard and fast. But maybe next time. He’ll be good for you. He’ll be so good for you. 

“A little faster, please,” You plead, your breath coming in uneven and heavy. Eddie is all to eager to provide, gradually working the pace up a bit, his hips hitting yours a bit harder in a way that makes your breasts bounce on your chest with every snap of his hips. “Oh, fuck—” He’s hit something different now, something deep inside you that makes your vision go fuzzy for a minute, then he hits it again. You let out a tense whine at the contact, and your nails dig into his back. 

“You like that, angel? Fuck, does that feel good?” In a different tone, it would sound taunting, but the way Eddie’s voice drips with need, you know that he’s begging to hear the answer. 

“God, yes—feels so fucking good, Ed,” You feel your eyes start to itch with tears, and you hold back a choked sob as he continues fucking into you. He presses hot kisses to your neck, and you move one of your hands to grasp at the hand supporting him on the bed. He moves to accommodate, careful to keep himself up while you thread your fingers together above your head.  

“So fucking good for me. You’re so pretty, sweetheart. I’ve got you, don’t you worry.” He squeezes your hand, his other does the same to the meat of your thigh, making you buck your hips beneath him without meaning to.  

You continue like this for a few minutes, suspended somewhere otherworldly as you push each other closer and closer toward that undiluted bliss you felt for the first time last night. Between the kissing and the sighs, Eddie releases the hand he’s holding. “I need you to do something, sweetheart,” He rasps. You nod eagerly, trying to keep your focus on what he’s saying to you. “I’m- fuck, I’m getting pretty close. And I want you to cum with me. So I want you to take these pretty fingers,” He leans down to kiss them one by one, nibbling on the very tips of them, “and I want you to go down and rub your clit for me, okay? You remember how I did it last night?” You nod again, beginning to run your hand down between your bodies in search of that magic button Eddie brought you to tears with. 

You shiver when you brush over it, letting out a mewl. “That’s a good girl,” Eddie encourages. “Take your fingers and rub it in circles. Not too hard, you don’t want to bruise it,” 

“’Kay,” You start trying to find a rhythm, starting slow, moving the pads of your fingers over the swollen bud. You start to feel it drive your pleasure forward, so you keep your focus on it, trying not to lose your rhythm.  

“That’s it, angel. You’re doing so good for me. Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me. Don’t stop pretty girl, I wanna feel you cum on my cock,” You drink in the words like water, ignoring the pain beginning in your inexperienced wrist as you continue, pressing a bit harder, circling a little faster on instinct.  

“Oh my God, Eddie,” You whine, “feels so fucking good,” You’re getting that crying feeling again now, like your body is working in overdrive to accommodate for the blanket of sensation around you. 

“I know, I know, baby,” He moans, capturing you in a sloppy kiss. Your tears spill over your eyes then, falling in hot drips down your face, cooling as they reach your neck. You shiver, from that and from hitting a certain spot around your clit. You gasp, and the tension in your stomach starts building. 

“Oh my God,” You whine again. “I’m-- I think I’m getting close.” You let your eyes screw shut, lewd noises spilling from your lips like a waterfall as you get closer and closer to release. 

“Fuck, I know, pretty girl. I am too. So fucking close,” He’s panting above you, “Don’t you stop. Make yourself cum on my cock. I know you can do it, angel. Cum for me, please, baby. I wanna feel it,” His voice is so sweet and needy in your ear that you can feel your body begin to unravel, the tension in your stomach teetering on a tightrope. 

Then, the tightrope snaps, and you have to bite back a scream, tears flooding down your face as you descend into a dizzying orgasm. Your vision blackens around the edges as your walls clamp around Eddie’s cock, and he starts spewing profanities, his thrusts get sloppier. With a low moan into your neck, you feel him twitch inside you, hips stuttering as he reaches his own peak. You keep rubbing at your clit, like Eddie did after you came last night, and it does seem to keep the waves rolling through you for a little longer. Finally, when your wrist is too tired to move anymore, you let your fingers come to a stop, and you let your hand flop to the side, both of you sucking breaths to try to regain your composure. You let your eyes flutter closed again as you let your soul return to your body, and Eddie leans down to kiss anywhere his lips can reach.  

You revel in the feeling, knowing that if you died spontaneously, you’d do it with a smile, and soon Eddie is easing himself out of you, adjusting his lower body so that he can lay his head on your chest without completely crushing you. “Sweetheart?” He asks. “Are you okay?” There’s a slight laugh in his voice, but he can see the tears on your face.  

In response, you raise a hand to run through his hair, not remembering how to speak yet, and give a slow nod. You can feel a smile rising on your lips, lazy and dreamy, like this had all been some beautiful fantasy of the subconscious. Finally, you start to open your eyes, and you find Eddie looking intently at your face, trying to gauge your feelings. “There you are,” He murmurs, his hand coming to brush a stray tear from your cheek.  

“Here I am,” You breathe, a little bubble of laughter bursting from your throat. That makes Eddie feel better, much better. He laughs a little, too. 

“How you feelin’ angel?” You sigh deeply, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his forehead. 

“I feel fantastic.” You kiss Eddie’s forehead again and press your cheek into his hair. The laugh he gives now sounds a little less hesitant with the verbal confirmation of your wellbeing. 

“Good. I’m gonna get up in a minute to get you a towel, okay?” His hand slides down the length of your body, stopping to rest on your hip. You let your fingers card through his dark curls as he lightly kisses your collarbone.  

“You take such good care of me,” You compliment, that dreamy tone still lilting your voice. You feel him squeeze your hip just slightly, like he’s trying to hug you while laying on you. 

“Anything for my favorite girl,” You giggle. He said that last night, too. You both rest for a quiet moment then, just feeling the warmth of your bodies pressed together. Finally, after a few minutes of this, Eddie raises his head to look at you again. “You still want to go to the farmer’s market later?” You don’t know why you find this so funny, but you laugh a lot harder than you probably should.  

“I don’t think so,” You say. “I don’t think we’re going to want to go very far from this bed, today,” 

“Oh?” Eddie raises an eyebrow, amusement written all over his face. “And why is that?”  

“Because I think you’ve just created a monster,” You tell him matter-of-factly. “I don’t know how I lived so long without this.” Eddie laughs at your brazenness.  

“We’ll see about that, baby. Wait until you try to stand up. We’ll see how much you want it after trying to walk,”  

“Well, how about I just lay here then? Then I won’t have to worry about it!” Eddie reaches his face to meet yours, his warm lips moving over yours with increasing ease as you settle into each other like this. 

“What am I going to do with you?” He asks, breath fanning over your face. Your heart breaks out in a sprint at his tender touch. You breathe another, exaggerated sigh.��

“I don’t know. What are you going to do with me?” You grin playfully as he ponders this. 

“Everything, I hope,” He settles on, giving you your favorite smile.  

“Ooh, I can get on board with that!” With that, you pull his face toward yours, both of you laughing as you kiss each other breathless once again. 

@eddiernunson @names-were-taken @unverifiedmeatsuit

[cutieeva]

Returned Home

Female reader

Warnings : Death. Murder.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

What happens if the person you love went missing and suddenly reappear in your doorsteps ? Because (Y/N) doesn't know how to react.

Knocks at the door were light at first, almost like a whisper before turning into frantic and loud like screams that (Y/N)'s sleep broke, a whine slip past her lips not loving the thought of her rare sleep intruded, all after that incident she almost at the verge of becoming the shell of a human, always worrying, little guilty yet hollow the entire time. Perhaps time will heal her wounds and pause the bleeding unfortunately not the knocking because it keeps increasing in alarming amount. She thought in her daze mind, wrapping a soft cloth around her nightdress she step out of the sofa, how tragic despite having warm bed, beautiful home with many rooms the only place she fell asleep was on the sofa in living room in front of the still on TV which is repeatedly showing some episodes of only murders in the building her mind has almost memorized.

"Coming !" She yell, messaging her forehead, feeling her head burn from both the torturous knocks and the stress of what if the twins wake up. Her feet drum the white tiles walking towards the front door and finally her eyes open to peek at the peekhole for safety. Huh ? She rub her eyes once more to peek yet why all she can see is black ? Her fogged mind question not still awaken from the slumped when she flinch feeling the knocks vibrate the door so closely.

"Who is this ?" Her voice stern, not fearful she could have been if awake, adamant to not open the door. Silence replies her. No voice only silence along the knocks. Her eyes narrow feeling her body ache from pain and the headache worsen. "These children". Her neighborhood is fill with all age children and unlike her sweet twin angels, these ones are the demons, the one she was thankful to not have. Oh, remind of her babies, what time is it ? Her eyes glance at the clock on the wall 7:00 am, whoa ? Which child is playing pranks at her doorsteps instead of being in school ? Oh ! Today is Sunday she forgets.

Must make breakfast she thought, her lips shaped a yawn about to walk away from the door "It's......me". Her heart sank, breath sucked. "(Y/N)". She remembers that voice, her whole fabric of being knows that voice, the voice she heard, whisper sweet nothings, laughs loudly, quick to anger, arrogance in his speech. In a second her hand having a mind of it's own, touch the shivering cold doorknob, twist it to unlock and swing open fast enough to not gave chance for the creaking noise.

Revealing the visage of none other than her husband, Vesper Rufus who is missing for two months after the alone trip to mountain.

Munch ! Cracks ! The noise of his devouring simple milk with cornflakes sends strange feelings within herself. Sitting across the dinning table of her husband who's black shirt made her recall it's original color white with his pale skin painted in faded marks of nasty bruises and bite marks belonging to animals, even insects she suspect, a grime cast her face merely thinking of what he went through to be alive in that forest where no police, forest rangers, rescue rangers even herself couldn't find. Hell, the helicopter wasn't of helped. Her eyes then slide below his body that is hidden by the counter where his pants are in the same condition, grey pants painted in coal. Her head span to her behind looking at the door to see no shoes of his as she found him barefoot with crimson hue smeared over his feet.

Click ! Her thoughts snap at the noise of his meal finish turning her vision to his face, dirt, scratchs cover his blemished handsome face. A smile lift those once perfect plump lips now dry and chapped. A happy sparkle in those pools of eyes she fell for that with time and marriage forgetton to dust leaving only a usual reflection of hers she used to bore before he went missing. Suddenly a yearning ache pull her body towards him, stand down from the metal chair, silently cross the line of space and stood under those eyes. Immediately she was hit by the smell of dust, rot, filth yet without a second she throw her arms around him, surrounding her body into his and hug him tightly, the cold body.

Her lids cover her vision, soaking into the frosty embrace and slowly she sense his arms embracing her back, gently to tightly and burying his face into her curve of neck like she was his roof, her shelter he just been gifted.

"Where were you these two months ?" Tears she thought were dried roll down her cheek, her voice soft. "The kids were crying". she added flood with the images of her twin sons wailing at the first news of their father might never returned as the police declared him dead saying no man has the capacity to survive in that stormy mountain more than two weeks and he was missing for two months. Perhaps they didn't found the body because the wild nature covet him or the animals feasted upon him. She likes to think the former. But now she knows, she knows they didn't find his body because he was alive all along.

"Children ?" She felt him title his head in her neck. "Ah ! Children, the twins". His voice muffed and horse like decades of out of speech. Softly like she handle her flowers she lean away from the embrace regardless of his hands still on her waist.

"You remember who am I right ?" Vesper nod like a good man he never was.

"(Y/N) Rufus, my wife, my soulmate". Those sharp onyx eyes that slice her heart multiple times tendered looking at her as if for the first time seen her, feel and stare so intimately at her. Never did she thought the gaze will be directly to her again after their dating phrase pass into the marriage years.

"And about the children ?" She ask, tip toe up to him, pressing her body, her breast to his and lips inches away. Intoxicated he looked, like sipped a bottle of beer he drunk with pink tints on his cheeks to ears, falling in her spell as if for first time he fell in love.

"Leo, Felix". Breathless he answered, leaning closer to her, brushing his lips with her yet not closing the gap. Why ? She wonder because never did her husband cared for her consent. If his sexual desire awaken he will use her like a escort not a wife. From the beginning he announce his ownership on her like she was a object and her past self mistook it as romantic and after marriage she was a servant. Never a wife, was a lover.

Maybe that's why his missing didn't pain her as much to shed a single tear until now when he is different, his warmth disappear, his arrogance fended leaving a stranger in her arms and she still kiss the stranger. Her lips collide his and it confirmed more. How naive his kiss is like he is exploring her, knowing her for the first time unlike him, who knew her like the back of his palm or— perhaps it's his self pleasure he knew like the back of his palm. Never hers, not after their marriage. The brand of ring tied their fates together as well as ruinning.

Not a hint of bad breath or taste she felt oddly, rather bitter taste of nature hits her when their lips met, at first like a careful of understanding he press their lips hard before she open her lips, giving him the space to enter and he mirrored it, like a learning child slide his tongue, following his guts and savoring her hotly, a contrast to his frosty body. Tips of tongue tease her inner flesh as he wish like she is his salvation before harshly mushing their body and lips more near than humanely possible, with brim of desire and addiction he bite her lips, tongue tenderly, exchanging sliver salivas and breathing heavily like he was suffocated yet not ready to leave as he continue to drove deeper, deeper into the mouth and (Y/N) felt being devoured by a predator not her husband who never with such passion held her, gave her pleasure.

Heart racing and breath threating to stop she ripped herself away, coughing fits at multiple times and drinking water unlike him, his lips hanged open, eyes beastly nothing similar to the sparkly happiness and red blush adore his pale skin. Their eyes met and without another warning he smashed their lips.

"You are so sweet, so deliciously sweet". Mumble his horse voice in the kiss, eating her lips like she was a dinner, shamelessly staring at her while invading her mouth and she let him, kiss her as if her being was the only source of meal. Been ages did her husband desire her such as this moment not to mention it proves more he wasn't her Vesper and it brought her nothing apart from relief.

Suddenly he paused, eyes wide and grip tighten. She slowly freed her swollen lips yet dig the knife deeper in his back. Yes, while he was under the spell of his lust, she went near him— more like near the knife set and stab him at his weakest moment.

"Who are you ?" Calmly she asked, hearing the thrives of her knife twisting his skin, flesh yet no trickle of blood bleeding. Strange she thought glances up again meeting his blank face. Not the agonizing look of a man being stabbed. Not her real husband who's eyes were betrayed, tears sliding and blood bled from her mouth like a fat fish squeeze out of it's body as before.

"Who the fuck are you when I killed my husband with my own hands ? When I buried his body under the solid of that mountain ?" Gritten her teeth, the mask of calmness cracked as she pulled the knife out desire to see the blood bled out of the man she loves so much, devote her life, birth children cutting from her flesh yet he cheated on her bluntly and gaslit her when confronted and spiral into questioning her own sanity. However no blood slide, no scarlet paint his pale skin.

"How ?" She whispered, in more disbelief of him not bleeding than her dead husband who she clearly murdered after planning thoroughly knowing his plan of visiting the mountain which he lied saying he is going alone when in reality his mistress and him will intertwined in ways she can't imagine and follow him before the mistress meets him and killed him brutely, stabbing him fourteen times in his entire body leading his death due to blood loss and burying deep into the soil that took hours only to return home unscathed.

Erriely quiet the stranger wore her husband's skin stare at her angered ones and part his lips. "I see, no wonder that was the most gruesome body I ever seen—" The raspy voice slowly get used to speech pause and (Y/N) sense him debeating. "And wore". The end words was something she couldn't swallow, couldn't avert eyes nor run hearing the conformation in his own voice.

"Who are you then ?" She tremble. He notice.

"Who am I ?" He tilt his head mirroring a clueless being. "Who am I ? What am I ? Doesn't matter because what am I isn't what suppose to exist yet I do and now I am your husband yet not. The body is his, yet what inside is not". Game of puzzle he answered. "I won't die, never bled nor need of humane things. I am of a being neither alive nor dead". Neutral his voice rang her ears echoing inside and frighting from the laughable answer but she knew better to laugh. No other way could her husband retrieve from dead than be possessed by something inhumane, abnormal like the myths tales of creatures she heard.

"Then, will you kill me ?" She let go the blade that isn't even paint in blood, shining her terrified reflection as it was fell on the floor with a biting click.

"No. I like you". A short answer relief her stress a little. "You taste sweet, you smell sweet and you are sweet. I want to cherish you, kiss you like I did. I want to claim you mine". Chanting every word he pepper kiss over her skin. Worshipping, caressing each curve, drinking her making her visible relax and something in her tells it's safe. He is safe—to her. Why ? maybe because her husband terrifies her more than a creature from tale.

"And my children ?" Her words carefully used. Her, not their. He halted in his actions. Inhaling her fabric when he reunite their lips again.

"Not them. Because they are ours. You are my wife, my soulmate and they are our children". Yes, it is because the moment he smell of unwelcome human scent in his home, he prepared to feast them, chew their bones and if unlucky torture them until they beg to death however it changed finding one glimpse of the beautiful woman bearing bloodlust and hatred the creature swore he saw her shining upon a halo and the way of her body soaked in blood of the man's arouse humanely needs he never felt apart from endless hunger. This hunger was different, pleasureful he seen these humans do sometimes before their withered body aside inside his stomach.

He watched the angelic woman, the lymph of paradise left the man buried and he walked out of the shadows to the place the man is under, saw his belongings along his address and the lymph is his wife— (Y/N) with twin sons. Good she killed him before he had to and now she is his, her children is his, all of her is his alone.

Tiny groans, tapping of floor steal their attention and (Y/N) watched her children wore night outfits walking towards the open kitchen, rubbing their hazy eyes.

"Mama I am hungry". Her three old years son said, the older one between them.

"Me too ! But I want pizza". The younger twin said, opening his eyes only to widen and grasp loudly. "Papa !" Following a joyful scream his tiny feet ran to the stranger wore their father's skin and the older twin also stare, face brighten in happiness the mother didn't saw since he was missing. His body was thrown to their father too and unnatural, his arms touch them back, still glancing to see (Y/N)'s visage than theirs.

Touching his familiar face, she caress saying "Yes, papa has returned home". The man lean in decided not the say one more thing, actually the real husband she killed was alive the time he was standing above the ground however he killed him again. For good and twice his death was before taking his skin.

"Indeed I have". Smiling crazily. "Returned home".

FIN

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give.

> idol!jungkook x f!reader / angst, fluff, suggestive / wc: 8.3k

> warnings: mention of infidelity (no one did u can breathe ily), mention of a classmate slipping their number in oc’s pocket and oc feeling unsafe, mention of puking, mentions & allusion to s/x, alcohol consumption, making out, boob!e fondle, gr*nding kinda? jungkook is hard™️ they’re so in love it’s sickening

> in which masterlist!

playlist! and if/or when - ruel / hate everything - jungkook cover (gsoul) / hits different - taylor swift / statue - lil’ eddie / i wouldn’t ask you - clairo (i had to get in the zone & this is so oc-coded i need u to listen i’m so srs)

next: in which you don’t want to give up jungkook (even when he gave you reasons to, even if they give you reasons to).

note: this was a journey. happened back in june 2019.!! i’m ripping off the bandaid <3 deep sigh writing this made me realize how my babies have come so far. hopefully will follow up with a fluffy fluff lowkey inspired by the underwear live soonest lols i’m excited for it 2 stay tuned 🫂 reblogs & feedback are much appreciated <3

—

you forgot the walls of the apartment building you’re living in are thin. a small portion of the white paint has been chipped off, it looks like a birth mark, you note — except it’s not, and you’re the one who caused the irregularity.

your favorite glass is scattered across the kitchen floor, reduced to shards and to sparkling pieces almost as miniscule as dust. you don’t know what came over you. you don’t know why you threw it at the wall instead of filling it with cold water to only drink three sips like you usually do.

just when you thought you’ve been faring well in holding yourself together today, a fresh wave of sorrow overwhelms you. your knees buckle as you begin weeping, the loudest you’ve been since this nightmare has started. it swallows the knocking sounds at your door, but it’s still not loud enough to quell jungkook’s quivering voice playing like a broken record on loop inside your head.

“we should end this… i think it’s for the best, before we get drained.”

the rain is coming down fiercely and you’re freezing inside his car, parked outside your apartment. after all, his balenciaga windbreaker can only do so much against the blasted airconditioner. your throat is painfully dry, and your hands and face are numb from the piercing cold. but those are the least of your concerns because you feel like your head had just been dunked in ice water. the sting in your eyes are burning warmer as the seconds fly by and the muffled sounds of the torrential raindrops drum frantically in your ears. they’re clouding the car windows, mirroring jungkook’s tear-stained cheeks.

“i’m leaving again in three weeks. and i’m leaving again next year… and i’ll be gone again soon after that for a long time. i-i don’t know when i’m coming home, ___.” he pauses. the heel of palms press against his eyes, as if that could possibly barricade the saltwater leaking from them. “i never know where my life is taking me and you have your own… there’s too much-too much going on. i think that i’m just wasting your time, that this isn’t- it’s not going anywhere.”

“open the door! hello?! ___!”

“what do you want?!” you seeth in annoyance, swinging the door open to reveal your pesky neighbor.

he scratches the top of his head awkwardly at the sight of the mess that you greeted him with, having not bothered to pretend that you weren’t wailing your heart out.

”hey, i know you’re going through something…” his lips remain parted as he struggles to find the correct word, his right eye twitching voluntarily. “soul-crushing? right now. but i heard glass breaking and i was concerned that you, uhm, might’ve hurt yourself.”

the apparent nervousness and sincerity in his actions pull you out from the isolating disassociation you’ve imprisoned yourself in. you feel humiliated, presenting yourself in your most pitiful form infront of a kid two years younger than you. you envy him for having it together after storming out of his parents’ house while you-

“i’m not hurt. it was just an accident.”

you’re shamelessly lying infront of his face because the truth makes you feel too ashamed of yourself.

he only nods, smiling in relief. “i don’t know how to help make you feel better, so i just brought honey like i used to do before.”

you sigh, the familiar jar of honey and its red checkered lid waving at you like an old friend. has it been a year?

“bro, i told you i can’t accept this anymore.”

“you and your boyfriend already broke up. what’s the big deal?”

you have never wanted to smack someone more, the genuine confusion painted on his face feels like an infuriatingly harsh slap to yours.

“he wasn’t threatened by your honey, you dipshit. we just found out my blood sugar was getting a bit high!”

“oh- i’m so-”

you angrily slam the door shut. the silence you’re left with is suffocating, and you find yourself breaking down again.

he jumps in surprise when you open the door again, yelling- “and we’re not broken up!” before ripping away the jar of honey from his sweaty palms. he’s left completely flabbergasted, an inexplicable heaviness weighing on his chest when he hears your sniffling from the other side of the hard-wood.

“does that mean i can deliver again next week? i have too much in my kitchen…”

he doesn’t receive a snarky answer, surprisingly, so he continues talking.

“and f-y-i, your left cheek is bleeding! you might want to check on that!”

—

“you didn’t even give me any signs…”

you inhale a deep, shaky breath in a fragile attempt of keeping your composure. you want to scream, rip apart this thick tension with your bare hands, and force him to admit that this is just some kind of sick joke. you finally see him in person after months and all he has for you is a gift bag filled to the brim with heartbreak. this is too casually cruel, not something you would’ve expected from your jungkook.

“do you really mean that? or is there something else you’re not saying…? look at me.” you plead, weakly tugging at the hem of his long-sleeved shirt. the horrors of long-distance relationship stories claw their way out of your skin, adding fuel to the fire of your deepest fear. “you didn’t cheat on me, right? that can’t be it. we- we always-”

after you ended your last relationship, you cried at the parking lot of your university and continued living your life the next morning as if nothing happened at all. you did it all for yourself, anyway. he was gradually tearing down your confidence and your dignity; and you didn’t want to become a person the future you would despise for not being wiser, stronger.

and here you are at present day: spending the cozy sunday night solving chemistry problems on your desk. you have a blue bandaid plastered on your face and a cheek full of fruit and honey. and you would say you’re fine, but jungkook wasn’t here to sweetly dote on you while treating your wound. he isn’t here to taste the honey from your lips with that coquettish smirk of his. he isn’t laying on your bed, fighting to stay awake because he wants to fall asleep with you as his pillow.

no matter how hard you try to shut out this thought, it keeps knocking on the door. he’s going to be doing these sweet nothings for a different person when he finally reaches a more stable place in his life. you want to kneel on the ground, beg the heavens to meddle with destiny and never let you hear about it.

because that means he will never set foot in your apartment again, and the personal belongings you left in his room will be thrown out to erase the traces you left behind.

so this is how it begins.

the ugliest parts of you are swimming to the surface, tying themselves around your ankles because jungkook took away the ground from beneath your feet after unearthing your soul and… nothing makes sense to you anymore. if you wake up every morning to tend to your garden, and you look outside the window to learn that the sun has stopped burning, what do you have left?

your lips inevitably curve into a frown, but you inhale a sharp breath, patting your eyes dry before they can smudge the black ink on your notepad. and then you dip a strawberry in honey for the third time.

—

“no, baby, no- that’s not it.”

the dread and insecurity weaved into the cracks of your voice fill him with nausea and panic. he captures your frigid hand with haste, firmly holding it to his pounding chest.

“i would never do that to you. just the thought alone fucking disgusts me… you’re the only one. you’ve ruined me for everybody else.”

“then why are you giving up on me? am i becoming a burden?”

jungkook feels painfully numb, mind floating as the buildings outside the window get left behind him as a mere, passing blur.

“yah, jungkook-ah. are you crying?”

a torturous moment of silence passes as he struggles to find his voice. his tongue is tied, and his lost eyes are betraying the nights he spent practicing how to explain himself to you. back then, the reasoning he curated made sense. but faced with the consequences of his actions, the love of his life’s brain running a thousand miles per hour, recording a tale of woe and heartache on his passenger seat — he has never felt this much loathing for himself and his weaknesses.

you release a shaky breath, patting his rosy cheeks dry with your sleeves. you smile at him kindly, and he watches you in sheer disbelief. he can’t fathom the perpetual luck he’s been blessed with that he met, who he believes to be, the purest soul to grace this corrupted world. they’re damp with your tears, so it’s practically useless, but the sweet gesture is a stray beam of sunlight in the midst of the dull gray clouds.

the comforting rubs on his shoulder extracts him from his torturous thoughts, and only then does he feel the wetness on his face.

“you’ve been holding it back for the past week. just cry it out.”

he nods wordlessly, hiding himself in the fleece blanket from his lap. yoongi can feel a lump forming in his throat as he witnesses his youngest brother breaking down, jungkook’s pain also being his pain. as a group who’s been living together for the past decade, no one will be able to empathize with them as well each other. especially during times like this.

“___ hasn’t called?”

jungkook shakes his head wistfully, wiping away the tears that slid down his nose. he is dying to send you a text message, worried sick, and still used to hearing about your day the same way he is used to sleeping on his stomach.

“hyung,” the sound of the word borders on a sob. “it’s over. this is killing me… it’s all my fault.”

“but isn’t that what you wanted?”

“exactly. so why am i crying?” his hands ball into closed fists. “i’m an asshole.”

“enough of that!” yoongi loudly whines out his scolding. ”we all know you had your reason.”

“but, hyung, i fucked up!” he tenses up, blurting out the acknowledgement that’s been haunting him day and night. “she told me the most romantic thing and i felt so… fuck, i’m so angry at myself. i ruined everything. and i’m scared that i’d end up making things worse if i try fixing it.”

“stop beating yourself up. we can’t solve things this way.” yoongi grabs a bottle of water from the cupholder between them, twisting the cap open before handing it to jungkook. “drink first.”

once he starts drinking, he realizes that his throat has been awfully dry and sore. it’s most probably best for him to rest his voice. he can already foresee the concert rehearsal being absolute hell tomorrow. if he can’t sing, he doesn’t know how else he’s supposed to keep himself sane.

“talk to me. what did she say?”

“you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, do you know that?”

and with that revelation, he loses the warmth of your touch, and he comes crashing down like a wingless aircraft.

“i also need time to think about it. that’s only fair, right? that i get to decide, too…?” you swallow thickly, lips parting as if the words are resisting to come out of your mouth.

he looks at you with an emotion you can’t name, a push and pull between longing and trepidation.

if this was a movie, he would brave the rain and somehow perfectly deliver a poetically romantic speech that would sway your heart. if this was a movie, you would take a warm bath together, make out in the bathtub, and make love on your bed. if this was a movie, the day would end with the two of you tangled up, peacefully asleep and rhythmic breathing in sync. but he knows you. apparently not as well as he thought, but to some extent, he knows you. if he pulls you closer in the heat of the moment, you would feel suffocated and defensive and you would push him away; and he would lose you for good. that much he knows. so he lets you leave and he stays in the car— heartbroken, crestfallen, and regretful, because he might’ve just recklessly thrown away the best gift the universe has ever given him.

“i was thinking about how she never would’ve made this much sacrifices and efforts for anyone else and i feel like… i- it’s all going to waste because our future is uncertain. i can’t be committed to her as much as she is committed to me. and, and i felt like the guilt was eating away at me, you know? i wasn’t thinking straight.” jungkook chews on his bottom lip, a last ditch effort to prevent himself from sobbing. “it just… consumed me? like i was drowning… and all i could smell and taste was the saltwater.”

“i see,” yoongi sighs, crossing his legs and intertwining his fingers infront of his stomach as he finds the right words to say. “that’s a normal response. our brain is a very complex friend… but you know, everything i’ve been through as myself and as a part of our team, hmmm, they taught me that there are times when a problem doesn’t necessarily need a solution per se. you just keep going until the fog clears up and then you move past it.”

fuck, jungkook needs a glass of whiskey. or two. or twelve. he listens intently despite seeming like he’s spacing out.

“this won’t last forever and time slips away from us without us even noticing. you should do what you want to do. if we’re going to deprive ourselves of good things, what will we have left after everything is over? money we can’t spend in one lifetime? there’s no happiness in that.”

yoongi frowns, wishing he could do more to alleviate the weight hanging on jungkook’s shoulders.

“you deserve love outside all the noise, too. focus on the present which you can still control and deal with the future when it arrives. if you do otherwise, you’ll just be tormenting yourself… and i know it’s easier said than done but! do you want to hear something i’ve had on my mind lately?”

with a flushed face and swollen eyes, he tilts his head to curiously spy on his hyung.

“what is it?”

“your motivation to work out after our shows is so you can stay awake and spend time with her. that’s why you fall asleep everywhere else. do you know how scary and endearing it is to watch that? is that what you call ‘not being committed enough’?”

yoongi fails to hide his gummy smile, body vibrating with silent laughter as pictures of jungkook falling asleep standing up flash before his eyes.

“seriously, you punk! you scare me! i just pass out and die straight after while you- really, you’re really unbelievable. i envy you. for being able to love with everything you have until they break your heart. i mean it!”

“but i’m the one who broke their heart this time.” jungkook somberly utters in defeat, bottom lip jutting out and chin quivering.

yoongi encouragingly pats his shoulder, shaking his body lightly. ”you can make it up to her. she’ll reach out before we leave. have some more patience.”

jungkook’s eyes turn into slits, suspiciously squinting at the man sitting beside him. “why do you sound so sure?”

“because she loves you. why else?”

—

you automatically pause from eating cup ramyeon when your phone lights up on top of the journals you’ve been reviewing for the past hour.

“ah, shit! shit!”

you abruptly cover your mouth with your hand, exhausted eyes watering because you accidentally bit your tongue after reading the name of the sender of your newest text notification. you take sips of cold water, peering at your phone as you do so. your hands itch to type out a response, but the screen dies and turns black, another of yoongi’s messages in the same pile of unanswered ones from your friends checking up on you tonight. you can’t talk to anyone right now; you need to get shit done.

after eating your dinner at the convenience store, you come home to a plastic of fried chicken hanging on the doorknob of your front door.

Eat lots and stay healthy! I’m feeding Jungkook well too. Don’t worry. — Yoongi

you peel off the blue handwritten note, sticking it on the cover of one of your books. you carefully carry the food using your free hand, and you can feel it radiating on your skin, the heat of a freshly-cooked meal. you were always worried of being a bother when you occasionally ask him how jungkook is doing on tour, but this made your heart significantly lighter. gaining a good friend after losing your lover, perhaps life can show a smidge of mercy when it wants to.

too bad you’ve always been one to be greedy.

—

“ah, seriously. why did you have to break up with ___?”

“we’ve been through this a million times!” jungkook exclaims in exasperation as he fiddles with the controller, bumping his knee with taehyung’s. “focus. you’re supposed to be helping me forget.”

“i don’t remember agreeing to that.” taehyung responds with a shrug, smirking when he picks up a booster and runs past his friend’s character. “you finally found someone who could put up with you and you let them go? i won’t let you forget.”

jungkook scoffs, eyes rolling upwards. “bro, i should be the least of your problems.”

“nuh-uh.” taehyung tuts with a grin, belly aching with laughter when jungkook’s car jumps over his to steal the lead. he didn’t even know that was possible. he plans on using the same trick against him later. “i’m making you my biggest problem so i don’t have to deal with mine.”

“they’re not married yet. you still have a chance, you know?”

“yah!” he gapes at jungkook in shock, entirely forgetting about the game. “take that back!”

“don’t act like you haven’t thought of it!”

“yeah, but i don’t say it out loud. it sounds too wrong! i still have my morals left!” he cries out, stomping his feet on the floor.

jungkook lightly punches his arm, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “i meant you have a chance if they break up. i have morals too! what do you think of me?!”

“oh…” taehyung blinks. “you know who else have probably thought of that too, though?”

“who?” jungkook boredly questions as he scrolls through the game collection, contemplating about which one to play next.

“all the other people waiting in line for ___.”

the realization renders him motionless, stirring up the possessiveness coursing through his veins. for the love of god, he doesn’t want to be petty but that struck a nerve. he wants to storm out of the house and look for you, beg on his knees for you to take him back.

“aish, hyung, you’re driving me crazy! why would you tell me that? are we torturing each other?!”

“are you crying? yah, jungkook-ah.” taehyung watches his hunched figure with a guilty wince, hesitant hands rubbing the expanse of his back. “i’m sorry- i’m sorry… do you want a hug?”

jungkook stays quiet, head hanging low to hide his face crumpling with anguish. the loose but affectionate hug that he gets pulled into prompts him to fall apart, catharsis blossoming in his ribcage and turning his bones into jelly.

he hears obnoxiously loud sniffles, and he abandons taehyung’s shoulder to look at his face. “are you crying, too?”

“stop ruining the moment.” taehyung groans, forcefully pushing down his head again.

namjoon comes out from his bedroom in search for another extension cord, still sipping on the half-empty iced americano he took from the fridge only ten minutes ago. the heartfelt scene on the couch causes him to halt on his tracks. how did they go from playing games to crying together? he silently observes the two members for a moment before deciding to approach them.

“what am i going to do with the two of you?” he grunts, ruffling his hair in frustration. “shall we go out for drinks to disinfect your wounded hearts?”

the mention of alcohol makes them perk up, jungkook’s tearful doe eyes sparkling at the prospect of temporarily erasing the pain that has uncontrollably spread throughout his system. he wants to drink until he forgets that he has hands, until he forgets what it feels like to touch you.

“thanks, monie-hyung. i’ll have my appetizer.”

and the iced americano gets snatched away from namjoon’s unsuspecting hand within the blink of an eye.

—

“this is not a barbecue restaurant.” you stare blankly at the orange neon lights spelling out the name of the night club your friends secretly conspired to bring you to.

“___, loosen up! the fastest way to move on is to find someone else. this is the best place for that.” aera turns around from the passenger seat of the taxi, her red lips painting a thrilled smile. “just forget about jungkook. we all knew this shit was going to happen. i’m surprised you even lasted that long!”

“i don’t know what you’re trying to imply but i don’t appreciate your tone.” you warn her with a sharp, threatening look. “and the ‘someone else’ that i found at a bar before turned out to be biggest fucking jerk i’ve ever met. i’m not doing this again.”

“things might be different this ti-” mi-ran aids in persuading you, but it only adds fuel to the fire.

“oh my god! fuck off!” you yell in irritation, aggressively getting off the car and slamming the door shut on their faces.

you never look back, ignoring the shouts of your name and half-assed apologies. you don’t have the slightest idea about where you’re going — your feet have a mind of their own and they chose to go the opposite way of home. this isn’t how you envisioned your night. you just wanted to listen to the sound of the meat grill and complain about life giving you a taste of true love just to cut your tongue with it until you bled. was that too much to ask?

you’re about ninety percent certain that you just lost two of whom you treated to be your closest friends. you think of ah-young, and you briefly consider crashing at your best friend’s band practice, but you’re too exhausted to travel to the other end of the city.

with eleven seconds left in the timer, you cross the street with swift and long strides alongside a crowd consisting mostly of employees wearing the same navy blue uniform. at last, you’re among the bright and lively restaurants, the inviting smell of good food making your stomach sting with hunger.

it’s only taehyung who recognizes you when you unknowingly pass by, almost choking on his glass of somaek, the combination of soju and beer. with his career on the line, he is confident that he can recognize that balenciaga windbreaker anywhere and anytime. meanwhile, instead of talking about you, the youngest is drunkenly reminiscing about the alleged ghost encounters he had in their old dorms. their leader is tragically left to tend to the grill alone. he deeply regrets not dragging any of the older members with them.

“everyone, i think i just saw __-”

a grimace of cluelessness is plastered on taehyung’s face when jungkook claps once, enthusiastically pointing at him as if he just announced something inspiring and life-changing.

“you’re right, you’re right! that’s it! what i’m kind of trying to say here is…” he pauses, facial muscles relaxing into a gloomy expression. he sniffles and rubs his nose, making it a brighter shade of red. “when we move houses again, i won’t have stories like these to bring with me. the new ghosts will be my memories with ___.”

none of the other two dares to speak after that, the oddly satisfying sound of meat being grilled and the chattering from other tables occupy the uneasy and heavy silence. instead, they begin filling their own shot glasses with pure soju. namjoon is the first one to spill it down his throat, slamming it on the table before dishing out his phone from his pocket. by this time, all of them are already drunk, double vision blurry and speech a little slurred. they gave up on counting the green bottles and cans of beer a long while ago.

“shit, that was a good metaphor. i need to write that down.”

“namjoon-hyung, he’s crying again!”

jungkook’s head slumps on the table with a thud, hot tears escaping down to his temple as he laments. “i miss her so much. why did i have to break up with her the second we got home? why…? am i so impulsive? what do i do if… if she agrees that we- h-how am i supposed to live with myself after that…? i’m never going to love again.”

they shuffle apprehensively on their seats, but still, they tell jungkook what he needs to hear since he won’t remember tonight’s events, anyway.

that’s not going happen. she just needs some more time. i’m sure she’s missing you too. everything will be okay.

but it’s been almost two weeks of radio silence. their flight is in nine days, drawing nearer and nearer as if it’s purposely taunting jungkook. everyone is thinking the same thing, and everyone is afraid to say it out loud.

—

it’s 7am when his work alarm goes off. with a disgruntled noise, a hungover jungkook drowsily drags himself out of bed, eyes still closed as he swings the bedroom door open.

“oing?” he creates a noise of confusion when his arm bumps against an object. he blinks at the brown paper bag hanging on his doorknob, removing one of the handles to peek at its contents.

he buffers for a moment, staring blankly at his belongings safely tucked inside. there’s his black mini bluetooth speaker, tinted lipbalm, wired earphones, bucket hat, facial cleanser, moisturizer, and shampoo. these are everything he left on top of your study desk and in your bathroom. neatly folded on the side is his windbreaker, which he recalls as clear as daylight, how you reveled in its comfort the last time that you were together. the fabric softener you use has replaced his perfume, the cherry scent forming a rain cloud of nostalgia and longing above his head.

if this is a nightmare, he is begging for somebody, anybody, to break into the room and to bring him someplace where hope is not desolate.

his wounded heart, as his namjoon-hyung described, is experiencing an excruciating pain he never even imagined was possible. he now understands, why the broken heart syndrome is a real thing.

he can’t read you. is this your way of ‘reaching out’? have you kicked him out of your house, out of your life? for good?

the dread of losing you forever is gnawing at his insides. nausea almost succeeds in knocking him off his feet. his brain hisses with static. he panics at the disgustingly familiar sensation brewing in his digestive system, sprinting to the bathroom to spill out his guts.

they say that you don’t realize what you have until you lose it. that early morning, jungkook realizes that he’s only a human being after all.

—

“when did i put that there?”

you’re sorting out your dirty laundry after showering when you notice a tissue paper tucked in the front pocket of your denim jeans. you huff out a sigh, ripping it apart into tiny pieces over the trash bin with raging vexation. you will never understand how men thinks that these kind of stupid tricks are supposed to compel you into seeing them anywhere near attractive and desirable in your eyes. if anything, they make you feel unsafe and if your paths cross again, you will run the other way. great. another person in the lecture room to avoid. just fucking great.

at this point, you want to mockingly laugh at your own misery. just when you thought your day couldn’t possibly get worse, it fucking does.

you tuck yourself in bed by midnight, texting a friend about your joint presentation next week, and then rereading your conversation with namjoon from this morning for the nth time. you’ve been hoping it will shine light on the right path to take, because you’re still lost and hurt.

Namjoon:

he’s been devastated since

can’t this be sorted out?

stuff’s just been overwhelming and honestly i’m as anxious as him

i'm not trying to force you into getting back together with him ofc but please talk for closure atleast..

you’re also my friend. i think you need it too..

you scroll a bit further down afterwards, and your heart drops to your stomach when you see the three dots under the contact name ‘my jungkook’. you click on it as it beckons you to, only to allow time to flow like a river with no sea to kiss, idly watching the bubble appear and disappear, appear and disappear. almost everyday, you catch a glimpse of him at the very least, typing a message and never sending it.

the same goes for tonight, it seems.

his silence is torturing you. in the car, in your inbox, in your call history. a person knocks on the door and a part of you foolishly predicts that it’s jungkook not using his copy of the key out of respect.

you succumb to the yearning, heading to your shared media and files that you’ve been actively resisting for the past three weeks… for this exact reason.

you randomly click a video sent by jungkook three months ago.

“i know you’re in class but i’m too excited to show what i got you today!” he beams at the front camera, bunny teeth cutely showing. he picks up the first item from the hotel bed with his free hand. “you already own this book but this one got a different cover, see? it’s hardback? they say it’s a limited edition.”

he eyes it fleetingly, obvious that there is something else he is dying to mention.

“i won’t show it too close. you can look at it when i go home. there’s a little surprise inside.”

he scrunches his nose before teasingly sticking his tongue out.

“and then here we haaave-”

following that, he shows you an adorable fluffy white bunny with red eyes. it occupies more than half the screen, and without a doubt, it is soft and huggable.

“cooky’s new sibling! we found it at a gift shop and hobi-hyung said it looks like me.”

he presses his cheek to the bunny’s. “i accept. we do look alike, but my eyes are so much bigger.”

in the upcoming seconds, the video is muted except for his breathing. he plops down on the bed while ruffling his dark hair, staring at the camera wordlessly, evocative of when you catch him dreamily watching you study while you’re on a videocall.

“i miss you.” he smiles sadly, deep dimples appearing on his cheeks. “don’t forget to text me when you’re on your way home.”

he drops on his back, the firm mattress breaking his fall.

“mmmwah!“ he kisses the camera, and your screen freezes on the final frame.

the silence in the aftermath is defeaning. you tear your glasses off your face, burying your face in the pillows. you arrive at your final decision then and there. you don’t care. you don’t care. you don’t care anymore. you cannot bear to spend more of your days like this. his things that used to live here might be gone, but you look for him everywhere. you look for his car in the parking lot. you look for his hair when you see flowers. you wait for his name to be called in the coffee shop. on your way home, you linger at the playground where you used to usually meet.

because if your relationship with jungkook is truly doomed to fail, you want to watch its foundation collapse on the ground, burnt down to gray and black ashes that disintegrate when you try to grasp them in your hands… with good grace, it’s the only way for you to believe that there’s no more home to come home to.

with a trembling hand, you press the call button and for the very first time, you beg someone to stay.

—

jungkook’s breathing ceases, heartbeat violently racing in his chest. the ‘chimes’ ringtone tickle his ears, his phone vibrating incessantly in his hands. the two features he specifically customized in your contact settings so he will immediately recognize that it’s you who’s calling.

it’s been four days since you dropped off his things. and here he was, laying on his bed and struggling to find the right words to say because he refuses to believe that this is how it ends. the paper bag is still hanging on the doorknob. he hasn’t touched it since the first time. he doesn’t have the courage to do so.

fuck giving you space. he wants drown himself in you and never come up for air. he’s more than willing to suffer your anger or your coldness. he’s prepared to prove himself worthy of a second chance every second of every day. he wants to occupy half of your desk and half of your closet again. he selfishly wishes to be the first and the last person you fall in love with.

but until the very end, you’re the braver one.

“love?” your voice is quiet, barely audible, but it’s there, and he hears the affectionate term of endearment distinctly. “i’m sorry. i tried, i really did, but i couldn’t do it…”

“baby,” he falters breathlessly, half of him in disbelief, convinced that he has officially lost his goddamn mind and delusion is bleeding into reality.

“i tried living without you like you wanted- but i can’t-” you hiccup in between small sobs on the other line. “i love you, jungkook. i can’t live carrying around all this love with me. it’s too heavy…”

exploding and breaking apart, jungkook’s heart is a meteor that has entered the planet’s atmosphere, and he doesn’t know where to begin digging for the fragments so he can piece himself together again.

“we are too young and we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing and i love you too much. you don’t have to protect me… i’ll take my fair share of the responsibility, so just-” he hangs on your every word, and then you pause, your following words eliciting a powerful punch to his gut. “just let me love you and let me learn my lesson the hard way… let’s do that, okay?”

the walls of him room ebbs and flows in like the sea. he rests his forearm over his eyes, his skin gradually dampening with tears. he once promised himself that he would never put you in this position. he should be the one begging for forgiveness, repenting and crawling on his knees. but rather than wasting his time with surfing through another tsunami of self-blame, he reminds himself: i want to be a better man.

“okay, baby. let’s do that, hmm? let’s do that. it’s what i want too.” he coos softly with a hoarse voice. “are you at your apartment?”

you hum in confirmation, sniffling. “come home.”

—

a half-naked jungkook abruptly opens the door to yoongi’s room, wearing gray sweatpants with his left arm awkwardly inserted in one of the black t-shirt’s armhole.

“hyung! can i borrow your car? mine’s getting a check-up.”

yoongi tears his eyes away from the computer, hanging the black headphones on the nape of his neck. he merely shrugs before throwing the car key, and jungkook catches it in one hand with ease.

he sighs in relief, politely bowing his upper body to express his gratitude. “thank you, hyung.”

“what are you doing?!” yoongi half-smiles with fondness, jokingly waving him off. “just go- go. leave!”

—

jungkook nervously stands before your front door, head woozy with anticipation and fear. what if things have changed? what if your relationship never goes back to the way it was?

“oh. you’re back together?”

he whips his head back to find your neighbor arriving home from his part-time job. huh, he just realized that he has never really learned what his name is. the only information he has on him is that his sister owns a bee farm.

“how did you even know?” he asks with knitted eyebrows. “you haven’t been giving out honey again, have you?”

“she only accepted it once.” the stranger puts his arms up in surrender with a roll of his eyes. “and don’t make her cry again, will you? she blasts sad songs late at night.”

and with an unpleasantly forceful shut of the door, jungkook is left alone in the hallway. his jaw clenches as he glares at the next apartment, but he rubs his face to release his frustration before he goes to meet you.

“we need to move in together.” he grumbles to himself as he enters your unit, relocking the door behind him. he removes his sneakers, neatly setting them down beside your pairs of shoes by the doormat.

he pads on the wooden floor with his white toe socks, looking around the dark and quiet living room. a faint orange light is seeping under the gap between the floor and the bedroom door, which he recognizes to be your favorite mode on your multi-colored nightstand lamp. he cautiously cracks the door open, and he is instantly greeted by your curled up figure, peacefully sleeping.

it’s muscle memory when he hangs his backpack on the backrest of your study chair before anything else. he also brought the paper bag you sent, putting it down on the floor.

he squats down infront of you, lightly prying away the phone you’re hugging to your chest and placing the device on the bedside table. the light is shining over your skin, and there are a thousand of photos and videos organized into the most treasured folder in his gallery, but not a single one of them will ever do you justice.

god, he missed you so much. it hasn’t been two years, but the life he had before he met you feels like an extremely distant memory.

he sighs, talking in hopes that he appears in your dreams. “how do you do this? you make it impossible not to love you.”

he unconsciously frowns at the sight of your puffy eyes. never again. never again. never again. he chants inside his head. he plants a kiss on each of your eyelids, taking his time to bask in the feeling of your weight under his lips.

he climbs on the opposite side of the bed, tucking you underneath the blanket before securely holding you from behind with his thigh hanging over yours. the warmth of your body and the scent of your shampoo cures the headache that’s been bothering him the whole day. he drifts off to sleep soon after.

—

the feather-light brushes through the silky locks of his hair pulls him out of his slumber half an hour later. he can make out your silhouette through his half-open eyes, the little-mermaid-like scene feels too vivid for a dream.

“why didn’t you wake me up?” you whine, sulking with a pout.

“i’m sorry.” he answers quietly, sitting up to engulf you in a tight embrace as endless apologies tumble from his tongue. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i gave up. i’m sorry that i hurt you. i’m so sorry… are you angry at me?”

“i’m upset.” you admit after a few beats, not seeing the point in sugarcoating it. “it hurts when i remember you saying that. and i understand you but… but i don’t like that you decided alone for us. if you do that again… then it will be over between us.”

he has an arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand firmly holding the back of your head. it’s a little hard to breathe, but it’s so reassuring to feel that he doesn’t want to let you out of his embrace. because you hated it — hated how it felt like letting you go was so easy.

“i regret everything. i’m sorry.” he whispers, concealing his tears by nuzzling his face on your neck. “and you’re not a burden. that’s not true.”

he knows that you mean your every word, so he lifts up his head to gaze directly into your eyes, showing that he is as sincere and true to his.

“from now on, all i’ll think about is what i can do to make you happy and safe without compromising our relationship… i’ll do better. i’ll love you better. i promise that i’ll be stronger for us. i won’t make the same mistake twice.”

you wish jungkook could be kinder to himself, treat himself with the same gentleness that comes so naturally with you. why is it that humans find loving themselves so laborious? why does being have to come with such a curse?

taking glimpses at the past, you should’ve been reminding him of these affirmations everyday.

“you don’t have to be strong all the time. i’m not asking for that.” you shake your head, voicing out yourself in a tone so soothing and illuminating. “i don’t want to go anywhere far away from you so think of yourself, too. i told you before, it’s okay to hold on to me. i’m also strong.”

jungkook feels so safe at home. he doesn’t remember what he was so worried of anymore.

“and you know what? if you really see it that way, then i’m telling you now. i want to waste my time on you. you can’t stop me.” your threatening eyes widen in conviction, provoking a sheepish smile to tug at the corners of his lips. “i always get what i want.”

“and you want me?” he innocently points at himself.

“love you.”

“i love you.” he replies, nosing at your neck before leaving a chaste kiss on your skin. “so much.”

“then put yourself in my shoes.” you hum, combing his hair with your fingers, lightly tugging to initiate eye-contact. “i want to take care of you just like how you want to take care of me. i think we have something rare and beautiful…” you pause, self-conscious about coming across as too needy now that you’re face-to-face, but an epiphany shatters your apprehension with a bow and an arrow.

this is what he needed to hear from you that day.

“so stay with me.”

jungkook’s vision becomes unfocused. he’s speechless; the only sound in the room is the humming of the airconditioner, but it’s almost as if you can hear the gears of his brain working their hardest. the pain that glossed his enchanting doe eyes has been replaced with a devotion you’ve never seen expressed so passionately in them before.

“all the time i own is yours.” he declares, cupping your face, the pad of his thumb daintily stroking your cheek. “all of it. we can do anything you want to do. let me make it up to you.”

“anything?” your face lights up with joy and mischief, and the butterflies in jungkook’s stomach come alive. he wants to make it his life’s mission to make you smile everyday; and that, he will do. “then i want you to kiss me.”

the sultriness of your enticing voice makes him go haywire. it’s been too damn long. he has forgotten what it feels like to kiss you. he slowly inches closer, his lips brushing against your lips before he pulls you in deeper, a fervent display of his yearning and apologies. he swallows the needy moan that escapes you as he slowly lays you down on the mattress, stripping off his shirt and mindlessly tossing it somewhere when you impatiently tug at it with another whimper. you cage his face in your hands, bringing back his lips on yours as if he’s the air that you breathe.

he wants to grieve for all the wasted time because everyday, he craved for this. to be honest, he forgets his name when he’s kissing you. outside, the crowds scream his name for being the best at what he does best, and he happily lives for the euphoria of it all. but in this room, there is only you and him. you communicate using the unspoken language of love with your lips. you bare the soft animal in yourselves with your teeth sinking in the other’s skin. you allow your rawest desires and truths to unravel with a slip of the tongue. he exists beyond his name, becomes an indecipherable enigma even to himself. what is the use of an explanation if there is no meaning anyway? all he knows is that he loves you despite all the reasons, against all the reasons.

he sneaks under your shirt, fingertips teasingly exploring your skin as if he’s drawing a map. he feels you quiver when he finally reaches your chest, gently kneading the soft flesh in his palm. this makes you mewl in pleasure, arching your back as your hand unconsciously curls around his wrist, the cotton fabric separating the two of you. the action electrifies jungkook, makes him lose himself a little more, which he didn’t think was still possible.

“touch me, please- jungkook. need you-” you choke out a desperate whimper, nearly sobbing as you guide his hand between your thighs. you can’t bear to spend another second untouched; the last time you made love feels like an eternity ago. he slips past the waistband of your underwear, the only article of clothing you’re wearing below. but to your disappointment, he gently caresses your hip bone instead of dipping his long fingers into your wetness.

“shh, hold on, baby-” he forces himself to break away from the kiss, swollen and red lips glistening with spit. “baby, look at me. you didn’t drink, right? i don’t want to take advantage.”

you gape at him with your chest heaving up and down, dumbfounded. “how could you even think of that right now?”

his eyes widen in panic, worried that he might’ve offended you. “no, no, no-” his palms skim your thighs, guiding them to wrap around his slim waist. you gasp when he presses up on you and his hard length rubs on your folds, sending jolts of electricity up your spine. a gush of arousal dampens the thin material covering your center.

“i want you so fucking bad that it hurts.” he gingerly wipes away the tears that you didn’t even notice streamed down to your temples. you can’t remember the last time you cried before today, they must’ve gotten tired of asking for your permission. “but you were crying when you called, baby. i had to make sure.”

“oh, my boyfriend is such a gentleman.” you muse dreamily. pepper his face with delicate kisses, lips curving upward with an adoring smile. “look at him enjoying my kisses.”

you playfully squeeze his cheeks together, making his pillowy lips pucker.

“you really wanted to break up with me in this case, huh? you wanted to live without me and my kisses? no way.”

his eyelids flutter open, and he shakes his head as he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…” his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh. “going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

“good. you better.” your high-pitched giggles bounce off the walls as his lips trail down to your neck, licking a bold stripe over your ticklish spots. “i don’t have the patience for it, but i’ll be your trusty assistant.”

it’s ridiculous, how even the sound of your laughter turns him on even more.

—

jungkook learned that you finished your exams yesterday, having spent majority of the past two weeks pulling all-nighters to prepare for them. you seem to be confident about the results, the way you talked about it without concern. he never once doubted that you’re resolute and persevering, but acing your exams in the middle of a breakup is beyond what he can digest. it must’ve been a grueling experience, he can only imagine.

he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and then your lips, before dragging the blanket higher over your naked figure, a thicker one he brought out from the cabinet. poor thing, you fell asleep on his lap while he was drying your hair, incoherently murmuring about how tired you are.

he walks to your study space, fixing the loosening towel wrapped around his waist. one by one, he pulls out the items from the paper bag, returning them to their old places on your desk. he toothily grins at the windbreaker, ecstatic due to his plan on wearing it at work today. he wants to give it back to you smelling like him again.

an index card lands on the ground when he unfolds it, making him peer down in curiosity.

“what’s this?” he mumbles, bending down to pick it up.

jumbled thoughts. a letter shoved at the back of the mailbox. a hesitant confession. a bittersweet reminder that says: a wound does not magically disappear overnight. it requires the proper treatment to heal correctly, and even then, it might still leave a scar.

These are only a few of many. Why is this the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? I’m usually the more logical one. Was it really so bad that we weren’t going anywhere?

and messily crossed out at the end,

I miss you.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[hoseoksluna]

CHERRIES | jhs ft. jjk

pairing: soon-to-be-boyfriend!hobi x oc (feat. ex-boyfriend!jk)

genre: heavy, heavy, obnoxious smut

word count: 12.7k

summary: you don't know how he does it, but hobi makes you forget about the life you led before him, using his tongue.

playlist: hobi's playlist ; hobi's the weeknd playlist 

pinterest board: cherries / taglist: join

warnings: oh my god—dd/lg but differently, businessman!hobi, dominant and emotional and fucking possessive hobi, oc is horny... a lot, praise kink, breeding kink sdflhldghfdklaxjkfghskfg, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, female and male masturbation, use of a sex toy, cum eating, ass eating, religious personification, mentions of anal sex, thigh and ass slapping fuck

note: my babies, i'm so happy to be posting PART TWO OF BERRIES for you, oh my god. i had the time of my LIFE writing this, had to take breaks every 20 mins, was horny beyond my fucking mind BECAUSE THE SMUT IN THIS? FUCK. THIS IS PURE FILTH. 12K WORDS OF FILTHY HOBI SMUT. IM DEAD. HAVE BEEN DEAD. i missed writing so much that i spewed this out in 3 days... literally how? but i'm so happy to be back. i hope you enjoy this part. make sure to let me know what you think! i'm in a severe (hehe) need of your feedback. I LOVE YOU, MY BABIES. MWAH.

side note: this part has the entirety of my being in it. from the first word to the last. it means a lot to me. very special chapter! <3

By the time you come out of the art museum, it’s storming. A sound so cacophonous that it spreads dots of gooseflesh along the perimeter of your skin underneath your silk dress and the layer of your heavy trench coat. Loud and violent like your heart’s deep drum that stills once you see Hoseok leaning against his glossy car. Arms and legs crossed in the same fashion, clothed in the coupled shade of blackness, a mop of tousled hair swept back and rippling in the unforgiving wind that flushes his cheeks with its rosy coldness and then clouds pull in, darkening his stare fixed on you. 

A shower of sudden rain finishes its touch on his countenance. 

Eye contact broken, Hobi’s shoulders raise as he feels the iciness of the slender raindrops falling upon him, eyes flicked up to the shadowed heavens. A heartstring of yours snaps and you don’t really know who gave the command to your aching legs to run towards him with your coat suspended over your head—whether it was that weakened heart of yours or basic human decency. Emotion versus logic. 

You find soon enough the verdict of the winner. 

Because when you have to stand on your tippy toes to cover him from the rain, despite the fact you’re wearing your high-heeled boots, and Hobi takes the makeshift shield from your hands and shrouds you both from the wetness, an identical flush crawls from your left cheek, upon the column of your nose right next to your other cheek, warming you up from within. 

Emotion. The string that ruptured grows again to its full length during that fleeting moment and you’re aching to take him home. 

No rain in sight—just him in this close proximity, in this gray cocoon, smiling down at you lopsidedly, a dimmed light flickering in his inky pools, faintly, barely, only there for you to see. To catch and cling to like his patchouli scent does to you, a whiff of dainty wildflowers leaning in and enclosing around you, forcing away the thoughts that are erect in the corners of your mind, waiting for the adequate moment to strike. Thoughts of how you sense Jungkook’s life entwining around your world again; his companion perfuming the air with petrichor, the inner turmoil she must be facing the very strength that pulled those clouds in, causing a storm to stretch across the skies. You figure each beat of her confused heart must be the grumble of the thunder, but then Hobi’s outer film of softness amidst the darkness is a force way greater, because firmness broods right underneath it, and it is an energy that keeps those thoughts pressed against the walls of your mind.

He did turn you into a locked orchard—and the threat of another declared war isn’t even a wind that brushes past your fruit trees and berry bushes. 

In fact, the more you deepen your exchange of gazes and Hobi cages you in between his shirt-clothed elbows, the more you want to show him the stain of your juices upon your panties. 

You’re aroused—blooming, in need to be picked. It outweighs the past and you’re glad for it, deem your newly born sexuality more important than the doomed normalcy of your life. 

You sink your manicured nails into that newness, adamant on not letting it go, regretting that you agreed to see your ex-boyfriend later tonight, regretting that you grew soft at the hint of his own normalcy, even though you said to yourself that you wouldn’t. It’s one of the reasons why you dig your nails deeper, maximizing your closeness to Hobi—it’s done in an effort to erase your foolish moment of weakness, to better yourself like you encouraged yourself to do earlier when you had perceived that you misinterpreted him. You curl your lips under your teeth to stifle back a sigh, wishing you were as firm as him, as stable in your decisions and your way of living as him. Wishing your weakness wasn’t a putty you play with, leave your fingerprints of your bad decisions on that blemish until you hate yourself, until the paste hardens and there’s nothing left for you to do but to watch it. Watch the evidence of your failure, your brokenness and your imbecility like still life—the curse, the doom of your life, haunting you. 

It almost slinks in, threatening yet again to desiccate your orchard, the movement akin to a wave rolling in, but then Hobi speaks. And his voice sears those thoughts to nothing. Not even their shadows are left behind. 

“Did you say hi to your friend?” he murmurs, reaching behind him to open the door of the passenger side for you, the coat that’s propped on his forearm lowering until it rests back around your shoulders. 

You can merely nod, your empty mind focused on the absence of your selfishness—for once again, you want to be close to him for his sake, even more so when Hobi places his palm on the top edge of his car so you don’t hurt your head. 

A prince, an orchardist, and a gentleman. 

You’re feeding him and sucking his dick before he goes to work—you don’t care. Hope to God he fucks your brain out of your head and plants a new one; one that isn’t so stupid. 

Seated inside his car, you glimpse profoundly at the way the rain kisses the crown of his head as he rounds his vehicle, sitting right beside you and carrying inside his heavenly skin fragrance, now accentuated by the residue of petrichor that all of a sudden doesn’t have anything to do with what you just bore. No hints, no thoughts, no wars. How he does it is something you’ll never have the capability of understanding—a fracture of attention of the intimate kind and he binds you to him, erasing your still fresh past as if it never happened. 

You flex and relax your hand on your lap, a gesture that depicts that you cherish it to the point that you yearn to submit to it and remain submitted. And you will. You’ll figure out a way to stay stable, even if events appear to try and revolutionize you. A way to keep your fist clenched in his presence. 

Hobi lets the car warm up a little bit before he turns on the heating, angling his rear view mirror just right, from which two purple, plush dice swing back and forth, colliding once and never meeting again. 

How inspiring. 

And then you watch his hands. Watch them dominate the car, spur it to life as he drives through the drenched street, parting the rain like a curtain, stepping in, taking you home. 

As if he sensed your thoughts, he glances at you. “My place or yours?” 

A red light halts his control and Hobi uses it to tap on the screen of his dashboard, dousing the space in a sultry, wet ambiance as slow, calm music breaks the silence. While it was comfortable for you, now you feel even more at ease and you wiggle in your seat, sinking deeper into the leather. 

Quite useful material for the lecherous saturation of your mind; for the lustful layer of sweat lining your skin. You feel so hot. Feel the need to be ridded of your clothes right now. Feel a certain kind of vivacity that drives you to do things you wouldn’t normally do. 

You take his hand from the shift stick, cradling it with both of your own hands, a finger tracing the veins that paint a slender but a strong temple—a temple for his beauty and character, you suspect. 

“My place,” you say, yearning to make him feel at home in your space; cook for him, make him come, stuff like that.

Green light blinks and Hobi doesn’t withdraw from your hold. No, he tells you what to do, quickly. 

“Keep your hand on mine,” he instructs and you listen, sinking your fingers between his and gripping him like in an effort to grip onto stable submission. “Just like that.” 

Your stomach flips at his choice of praise and you lick your lips, tightening your hold hard enough that he peeks at you with a smirk while he shifts the gear stick with you and speeds down the road. The heat worsens and you don’t think you can take it anymore.

That alone is the most attractive thing you ever experienced with a man. 

And when he plays with your thumb, you can’t help but to squeeze your thighs together. Watch him intently sneak a glance as you do so, knowing your dress has ridden up a little, exposing your tanned thighs, swathed with the brown leather of your boots. Your position also provides him the intriguing reveal of a secret—you’re wearing knee socks underneath. They were invisible to his sight this whole time and now that he sees them, his eyes linger there for a few seconds longer before he drags his teeth along his bottom lip, flicking his gaze back to the road. 

“You’re wearing knee socks under those?” he asks, his voice low and tortured. Doesn’t look at you as he does. Only shifts the gear stick again, stiffly. You imagine something else is stiff, too, and you smile, a tendril of confidence clothing you in allure and sinful, dark joy. It beckons your vivacity to drive forward. 

You move his hand to let the pads of his fingers feel the smooth fabric. His body twitches, his lungs inhaling a short, soft air, mouth parted, eyes unblinking, gloomy just like the heavens above. A thunder sounds and you feel like roaring just the same. 

“It matches my underwear,” you murmur and the thunder prolongs, echoing feebly. You drag his hand down your thigh with the intention to also make him feel the nylon material of your panties, but he halts your movement halfway, hand gripping your flesh, trembling ever so slightly, stirring your confidence. You almost moan at his brusqueness. 

“Don’t,” he scolds, brows furrowing, chest heaving in that slow manner. His lips dry and he wets them. Doesn’t spare you a glance. Turns the wheel with that one hand as he takes a left turn, his posture slouched, thighs spread, a small tent evident in between. His arousal for you grows and it only propels you to finish the job, knowing his scolding was merely a warning, not a portrayal of his discomfort. And he proves you right with his next words. “If you do that, I’ll crash this fucking car.” 

You laugh through your nose, your confidence and your own arousal fluttering in you, begging to be let out. Your favorite artist starts playing and you’re not surprised by the way your body reacts. Your thighs naturally spread and you move your pelvis forward. Feel your slick dampening your panties even more, trickling down your needy seashell just as The Weeknd begins to sing about your desire. 

“I wanna fuck you slow with the lights on…” 

You lick your lips, inhaling deeply and exhaling with a soft moan. Hobi digs his fingernails into your skin, coaxing another one out of you and he calls you by your name in a sterner warning. You caress the edge of his hand with the thought in mind that you’ve always loved the crescent moon, so it would only be illogical for you to not want more of it imprinted on your skin. 

“You shouldn’t praise me then,” you croak out, doused in adrenaline-tinged lust, your sweat heavy upon you. You clutch your cherub necklace, needing to be touched, a habit of yours that you’ve had ever since you were a teenage girl. Your fingers graze your collarbones, lingering in the dip between them. “Besides, you’re such a good driver that I think you can handle it.” 

Hobi hums out an endearing laugh, that smirk of his reappearing on his mouth. He rubs the moons he impressed into your thigh from side to side and your hips buck, asking for that movement down low where you need him the most. 

“You have a praise kink?” he questions and you catch him bite his lip, catch him enjoying that information, sinking it into his flesh. You want to kiss it, bruise it, make it permanent for a little while. You revel in such a dirty, yet gentle conversation and you stop yourself from bucking your hips again. 

“A severe praise kink,” you correct him, emphasizing the adjective with a bit of a bratty tone to divulge to him what he does to you and how much he needs to pay for it. And before you can go on, he catches you off guard. 

“If you want me to keep praising you then rub your clit,” he negotiates with you, taking your hand and moving the gear stick, leaving it there. “And you’re wrong. I can’t handle you like this. I can’t touch you when I’m responsible for your life.” 

Daddy. The title would’ve slipped out of the tip of your tongue had a moan not been first, coating the ambience with a sultriness that makes you tug at his hand in order to do as he says, in order to be praised, to be gratified. But Hobi doesn’t budge. He tightens his grip around the shift stick, clicking his tongue. 

“No, baby. With your other hand,” he orders, his breath shaking and amidst the enveloping of his fatherliness around you, strengthening you and binding you with ropes of safety, girlishness and seductiveness, you scrunch up your brows, wanting his hand to be there when you make yourself feel good. 

And you tell him. 

“I want you to help me.” 

The rain thickens, creating a sensual background noise to the next slow song playing and Hobi sighs, disliking your attitude. Your arousal grows to highs you’ve never seen before, a sweet, pleasing darkness consuming you, sprinkling you with glitters of appetite and craze. 

All because your sexual chemistry is so good, so strong—so natural, despite the fact you just met and don’t know each other enough for it to be possible. It exceeds the laws of human connection and the feeling of it is heady, intoxicating you with wine of the ripest cherries. You even feel as though this is your first alcoholic drink. Feel as though you’re an unspoiled virgin on the cusp of her very first sin—the Virgin Mary with long hair, cherub necklace, tanned skin, knee socks and high-heeled boots. 

Hobi erases your past life. Paints a new one with watercolors; paints you anew. You know the dulcet taste of fatherliness and manliness from Jungkook and while it was what you needed at the time, sexually that is—as it wasn’t often that he used this kind of energy day-to-day, and if he did, it was to tease you—what Hobi does runs deeper. It surpasses your need; it’s not a filling that will decompose soon enough and ask for it again. It’s something else entirely. 

It’s something that falls upon you and stays. Clicks and connects with no way out. It’s another layer of skin, strands of hair growing out of your scalp, the drum of the vein upon your neck. 

It began in the museum and uncoils here. It’s not worth it to juxtapose it with what you had before—it’s laughable to do so. Hobi has established his fatherliness the moment he held your coat as a heathen in a church, not taking his gaze off of your intimate prayers for even a split second. Unkinked it with his honesty and by expressing his responsibility over you, listening to the murmur of the sea of your sexual need but not diving head-first into it, knowing better. And now it is ready to bloom with flowerets, with fruits, with leaves to accompany you. 

“It’s this or nothing,” Hobi decides, squeezing his fingers against yours to also emphasize the gravity of his words and you purse your lips in response, finding the ultimatum so attractive. “You live thirty minutes away, so you either rub your clit on your own or you wait. It’s up to you.” 

It’s mind blowing to you how he went from being timid to now ordering you to pleasure yourself. You’re sweltering beneath your clothes and Hobi notices, looking at your body through his rear view mirror. He turns the heating up and you laugh, blush deepening, eyes crinkling at the corners. Your heart thuds heavily in your chest. 

“Why didn’t you put your seatbelt on?” he mutters, letting go of your hand and giving you a mean look that makes your walls clench and your throat let out a low, almost soundless moan. 

You never put a seatbelt on. As dangerous as it, you hate the way it chokes you due to your small stature and you tell him. “It chokes me, Hobi, I don’t really like it.” 

Hobi doesn’t respond. He reaches over and drags down the seatbelt adjuster without taking his eyes off of the road, driving steadily. His patchouli scent hits your nostrils and you nuzzle your nose into his bicep, fingers curling around his arm, smelling him in a simple, comfortable manner. Hobi gives you a quick smile and you hear the sound of him pulling on the seatbelt, but then a pedestrian runs across the previously empty crosswalk, forcing him to stomp on the brake abruptly and your heart nearly skips out of your chest. Almost flying forward, Hobi holds you in place with his strong arm, which you cradle against your quickening chest. 

Exchanging a look, you both pant in tandem and Hobi shakes his head at you. Panic lines his dark eyelashes and he immediately grabs the seatbelt and, tugging harshly, he sinks it into the buckle, placing the belt behind your back. He doesn’t acknowledge the pedestrian lifting his palm in apology and neither do you, too preoccupied with the fact he just saved your life. 

“You wear a seatbelt in my car. No buts. Understand?” 

Too shocked by the twist of events and too touched by the gesture and the sternness of his words, you nod. He pats your thigh, the one he marked, fondling the skin with his thumb, and it drives you to say something. “I’m sorry, Hobi. I’ll wear the seatbelt from now on.” 

You mean it. This has never happened to you before as you usually take the public transport, but you do understand now how dangerous it is to not wear one. Your heartbeat calms and the aftershocks of the adrenaline come to the surface, scattering along your figure. Numbness melts and your arousal returns at full speed. 

Hobi nods, smiling gently, pleased with your apology, and you feel so peculiarly gratified that you managed to do something like that to him. He sinks his fingers under your thigh and you marvel at the size of his hand because his thumb still remains there on the top of the flesh, even as he wraps his digits around you like that. Kneading just once before he lifts them and begins to tap on his screen again, shifting the energy with the voice of your favorite artist. He moves the gear, accelerating. 

“Why you rushing me, baby? It’s only us, alone,” The Weeknd sings and you sigh, your body loosening up. You hike the seatbelt around your hips higher, curling lower on the leather, thighs parting until your knee taps his hand. You miss his touch and you long for it again, finding its warm ghost on your skin not enough. 

“You like The Weeknd, don’t you?” Hobi says, his pinky finger brushing along your sock-clad knee, causing you to almost twitch. 

You smile, relishing in the love you have for the singer. “I’ve spent ten years of my life loving him.” 

Liking your answer, Hobi skims his fingers along the side of your inner thigh until he finds yours, intertwining them—this time his palm closed over the back of your hand, placing it to its former position on the stick. It’s warmed by him and you love it so much that you search for his thumb, playing with it. 

“I could tell,” he breathes, his tone deepened by a heartfelt emotion that moves through you. You raise your brows in curiosity and question, wondering how that has come to be. Glancing at you to see your reaction, Hobi laughs softly, his heart evident in the sound, coated with it entirely, and you catch his thumb, holding it, on the verge of bursting. “I saw what you did when I put him on.” 

You round the tip of your tongue along your top lip, recollecting well what you did when you heard him. “What did I do?” 

A beat of silence between you and him, he lets the singer sing his elegy. Then, his index finger traces your manicured nail on the same digit. “You spread your legs. Made such a pretty sound that I almost stopped this fucking car and fucked you until the whole city could heard it.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat and you’re too late to halt the moan from slipping out, a fire coursing down from the top of your head to your toes. You want a taste of his desire so bad that you’ll do anything for it. Even let the seatbelt choke you to death. 

Hobi gives you a look, one that chills your blood this time. But it feels absolutely exhilarating.

He calls your name. “Don’t do that to me. Not here.” 

Your breath trembles as you scurry to regain your composure, sliding up in your seat. Hobi, too, stops that movement by cradling your thigh, putting it back to the stick once you get the message. 

Why does this feel better than if he gave in? 

“What if I want to?” you challenge and Hobi rubs his eyes, slapping his hand back onto the steering wheel. Frustration, it looks so good on him. “What if I want you to fuck me here?” 

He shakes his head, just once, biting his lip, reddening the pillow. “No, I don’t share.” 

Fuck. 

This is a point of no return. You will never be the same after what he said and you feel your attachment melting into his chest, dissolving there into leaves from your fruit trees. Your imaginary wings flit, aroused from his possessiveness. 

“You know what to do,” he adds without looking at you, turning up the volume as if to subdue your incoming moans. 

A cherry on the top of the fucking cake. 

You don’t waste a precious second. Lifting the hem of your dress, you expose your drenched panties, a large wet spot in the center darkening the black fabric. Hobi doesn’t spare you a glance. No, he takes your intertwined hands and fixes his rear view mirror, tipping it down. Dangerous, but smart. Responsible. 

It’s those glimmering flecks of his character that drive your fingers to pull your panties to the side, but Hobi, once again, stops you. 

With words, this time. 

“Do you want me to die?” he rasps, tortured—horribly tortured and you cup your femininity, coaxing a groan out of him. “Do it over your panties, baby. Please.” 

He begged. You don’t think you ever heard that word come out of a man’s mouth in your life and you break, whimpering, pulling your panties back in their place over your pussy, dragging the tip of your middle finger up and down your dripping slit, sighing. Adding your index, you put pressure to the sides of your clit as you slide your digits in the same direction, over and over, teasing yourself, breathing out little moans that make him grip the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. 

Hobi glances once at what you’re doing and swears. “Fuck, rub your clit. Don’t tease yourself, baby. Make yourself feel good.” 

With a mewl, you stick your fingers together and begin a series of circles, doing as he says. Your eyes roll back, head knocking back into the leather, satisfaction seizing your body and sweetening it. The material of your panties is so flimsy that it feels as though your fingers are stroking your bare flesh and when you tug the fabric to your hole to wet it and rub your clit harder, your moans gain volume, mingling with The Weeknd’s poetry seamlessly and magnificently, dethroning the rain. 

And then Hobi shifts the gear stick with your hand and drives so fast that your pleasure deepens, thrill rushing in your veins. You match your circles to that speed, your sounds becoming obnoxious, whiny squeaks when you look at him to see his jaw clenched, chest heaving and the tent in his pants larger than you last checked it. 

Hobi skims his fingers along your forearm, back and forth, cradling it. Senses your stare and reciprocates it, catching you at your best when you find your spot and buck your hips, furrowing your brows. He moans, clutching your thigh. 

“So good. Such a good girl, rubbing her clit for me to get praised. Fuck, baby. You’re doing so good.” 

You lift your fingers in order not to come, the aftershocks of your ripped away orgasm quivering throughout your whole body and you squeeze his hand, letting go—wrapping it around his tent, instead. You figure he deserves it for praising you like that. 

He finds your lidded, mischievous eyes in the rear view mirror and he flattens his lips, a brutal expression on his face that should make you scared, but it doesn’t. It only spurs you on. You graze your palm on him, causing his breath to quicken, and you whimper when you search and search for the tip of his cock. He’s slender, but big and your mouth dries. 

“You almost made me come with what you said,” you say, truthfully, retracing your path down his length, his breath, now hardened, wafting over you. You love the way he focuses on the road with every fiber of his being as you’re toying with him. Love watching him grit his teeth, narrow his eyes; love watching sweat adorn his flushed chest and neck. You ache to bite him there. 

And you would—had he not buckled you in place. 

You don’t notice you’ve arrived at your apartment until he stops the car and turns to face you, leaning his elbow on the center console. Nobody could gaslight you into believing that ride took thirty minutes. Nobody. 

Hobi made that fifteen. Ferally. For you. 

You can see it in his shining face—his need for you, his desire, the fact he sped down the road because you’re so horny. And you ache to kiss him. 

“You really do have a praise kink,” he says, mutedly. Must be thinking the same because his gaze flicks to your lips. You lick them for him, encouraging him to do it. “Almost coming from me praising you. Such a good girl.” 

You hiss, the drum in your clit returning, stealing your attention. Hoseok grins, pleased to be proven right, pleased that you make it so easy for him. You squeeze his length and he makes the same sound, gritting his teeth briefly before he pouts. 

“What’s this?” he asks, speaking of your hand placement. “When did I allow you to do this?” 

You breathe heavily, descending your fingers to his full balls, feeling them perfectly due to the silky fabric of his dress pants. You knead them and he moans, the sound traveling right to your yet again needy bundle of nerves. Your hand automatically flies to it, rubbing it, and Hobi curses, eyes narrowing, fixed on the movement of your fingers. 

“It’s asking for me, isn’t it?” you murmur, sliding your hand back to his manhood and his pools almost go cross, head tilting back. Your pleasure from your motions expands, your nerve endings burning. 

“I’m so hard for you,” he agrees, his hand clasping over yours, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows with great difficulty, the column of his throat such a thing of beauty for you that it forces you to unclip your seatbelt. You’re about to crawl onto his lap, but one darkened look from him makes you decide against it. “Show me that pussy, baby.” 

Your moan has a certain elation to it, giddy at the fact you get to expose such an intimate part of you to him, giddy that he’s taking this to another level. 

You slide your drenched panties to the side and at the sight of your glistening pussy Hobi groans deeply.

“Lean against the door,” he commands, wiping at his mouth and you tremble all over, more than delighted that he’s reacting to you this way. 

You swivel, propping your back against the leather of his door and Hobi lifts your legs, spreading them. You hook one of them around the back of his headrest while the other dangles in his hold. His gaze zeroes in on your pussy and as he bites his lip, he acknowledges himself with her by tracing the flesh with his thumb. Your clit, your lips before he circles your gushing hole, groaning, bettering the song you barely can hear. Your confidence and your allure skyrockets and you follow his digit, riding it, begging for more of his touch. He plays chase with you until both of you and him can’t take it anymore and when his thumb is completely soaked, he lifts it to your mouth—only to fuck with you, though, because he plunges it inside his, leaving your own parted for nothing. 

You’re embarrassed, but he likes it. Whimpers around his finger. Pushes your knee to your shoulders and dives right in. 

You yelp, grabbing a hold of his hair as he licks over your clit, closing his lips over it and sucking until your eyes roll back, until all your still parted mouth knows is his name and your thick heel digs into his shoulder. 

But you moan the wrong variation and he’s quick to correct you with a dripping chin, his hands on either side of you, face merely inches away from yours. “That’s Hoseok for you, not Hobi.” 

Red all over, you can only moan in response, gripping his hair until he hisses in pain. He strums your clit without breaking eye contact, so slippery and swollen from his attack. The orchard in you grows, brims with fruit that is on the cusp of bursting, the berries in you big and full. His eyes narrow furthermore, pupils dilated, causing his gaze to darken in ways you’ve never thought could be possible. 

“Moan my name, baby. Show me how good I’m making you feel.” 

The wrong variation slips again, all due to the mind numbing pleasure he’s giving you. He adds more pressure to his fingers for a second before he withdraws and slaps your thigh. And slaps it again. 

“I can’t praise you if you don’t learn well, can I?” he mutters and you whine so loudly that his eyes round, body growing boneless. “Fuck, baby, if you keep making sounds like that I’m gonna come in my pants.” 

You scramble your words, find it the most difficult thing in the world. And he doesn’t help you. Not when he sinks a long finger inside your heat, fucking you slowly until you can take him. You lose your mind altogether. 

“You’re making me feel too-too good,” you breathe out, hiccuping as he adds a second finger in, silencing you when he gives you long strokes. You follow his gaze down and perceive that he’s watching you soak his digits. He twists them, moaning, a litany of mad, mad curses falling out of his mouth in a hushed tone. 

“So wet just from me praising you, oh my God,” Hobi comments and you squeeze your eyes shut, taking it as he begins to pound you to the hilt, his arm bulging, his whole body moving. “Eyes on me. What do you call me when I make you feel this good, hm? I already told you. Just remember.” 

You know which variation he means and wants to hear, but your tongue curls, aching to utter a different name that he deserves to be called by. 

And you say it, opening your eyes and boring them into his. “Daddy.” 

And you don’t stop saying it. Not when he closes his eyes for a split second, agonized by such saccharinity. Not when he undoes the button of his pants and pulls himself out while thumbing your clit. You gasp, legs quivering, what you touched brought to reality and your orgasm nears, especially when he fist-fucks his length. 

Hoseok draws back down to your clit, licking it over, nuzzling his face in it as he drinks your nectar right from the source, his wet fingers from you making squeaky sounds around his girth, causing you to scream, the intensity of the moment running so deep and you’re too weak to take it, overwhelmed by his arousal. 

He lifts his head for a moment. “I want you to call me Daddy when you come on my tongue,” he rasps amidst his growls, never stopping the movement around his cock, and you nod your head, vehemently, willing to do anything for him.

“I’m so close.” 

Hoseok pouts. “That’s so good, baby. You know what to do?” 

You swallow. “I’m gonna call you Daddy when I come.” 

He grins at you and the expression breaks when he fucks his tip, his brows casting a shadow on his face. You break along with it, shuddering—pleasured from watching him pleasure himself. And you break again when he praises you for your good answer. “Such a good girl. You’re gonna come hard for me?” 

You don’t get to say your yes because when he sucks your clit into his mouth and groans against it as he flicks it with his tongue, he’s a witness to it himself. The fruits in your orchard explode and he drinks their juices, running the muscle all over your pussy, his mouth smacking, enjoying every drop. You squeal the title, forcing pleased growls out of him that deepen when you swear, repeating the name over and over again until your orgasm smooths down the perimeters of your body, slowly dwindling away.  

You can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t see. White dots flood your vision and the only thing that grounds you is Hobi taking your hand in his. The dots swim away, revealing him on the verge of his own orgasm as he tugs on his length, rapidly now. 

“That was so good, baby. You came so well for me. Called me Daddy like I wanted. Good girl,” he praises and your moans are an endless stream, enveloping around his cock, which he guides your hand towards. The weight of it, his warmth, the protruding veins, you could come again just from the feel of him. “Jerk off your Daddy. He’s close, too, from the way you came for him.” 

The third person, fuck. You bite your lip, focusing on his tip as you grip him, twisting your wrist. His skin is sticky from your nectar and you spit onto your hand, earning a praise from him that makes your mind spin, even though you heard those two words plenty of times throughout your sinful date. 

It will never get old—it will only make your femininity wetter for him. 

And his growls, the same could be applied to them. They propel you to fuck him faster while your fingers sneak over to your sensitive clit that he provokes, rubbing circles that cloud your vision with a mist, painting him to be an angel—like the one you saw in the museum. 

And when he comes, he grows a pair of glorious wings. Black, with hints of rose gold and pinks. His body doubles over, hands propped on the dashboard and the passenger seat as he spills for you, ropes of cum painting your stomach in that eternal ivory color that serves as skin for those sculptures. In a way you become them once he praises you for making him come, his breaths a legato rivulet that gives you life, his hips snapping, fucking your hand. 

He smears his cum on your tanned stomach, fingers dipping below the waistband of your panties to discover a lighter shade of skin, marveling at the difference. Light passes through his eyes before he covers your pussy with the fabric, opening the glove department to fetch some tissues, cleaning you up, dragging down your dress and helping you sit up.

It’s at this moment, as he’s kneeling—towering over you and you’re sitting on your bum with your hands folded on your lap like the good girl he made you into, that he clutches the back of your neck and smashes his mouth into yours, moving it against you with such strength and vigor that you struggle to devour him in the same manner. It causes you to claw at his sides, to long to see his body in its full, bare beauty. His imaginary wings wrap around you, sealing the resplendence of your orgasm profoundly inside your skin and when he tastes you, his growls traveling down your throat are the raindrops that the orchard inside you needs in order to grow. You help him by moaning back, the aftertaste of you the sunlight. 

Piercing his gaze into yours, he caresses your hair, messes up your diligently fixed updo. Catches your ribbon as it falls, wrapping it around his hand, the wisps dangling from his fingers like your leg was just a few moments ago. 

You’re so satisfied that you could cry. 

You don’t even understand what just happened and how it came to be. Don’t remember what occurred before you sat down in his car—Hobi has completely and wholly erased it. 

And it’s him who notices that your hand still carries the remnants of him. You don’t care to look—you can’t rip your gaze away from the shine on his face, from the gratification smoothing out his features, from the pink flush decorating the perfect redness of his swollen lips. But Hobi forces you to, in the tenderest of ways. Looks lovingly at your palm, cooing, shooting that look into your eyes, where it unfolds, creates something new that you never experienced before. And when he grins, your stomach flips, winged creatures intoxicated with madness inside. 

“You see what you did?” he whispers, the love in his eyes expanding, growing warmer, burning you faintly. “I want you to lick it up. You deserve every drop.” The breath you let out causes him to tremble and you cradle the fabric of his shirt in your fist. Hobi kisses your fingers, looking at you through them, his smile quivering. “Stick out your tongue for me, baby.” 

You do and he slides your palm over it, his salty nectar the sea that swam against your body a week ago in your healing time and you moan, devouring his taste like he devoured your mouth, licking it up, collecting it until there’s nothing left. You show him your tongue, then, and Hobi plays with it, using his thumb, your ribbon wrapped around his hand tickling your chin. He rubs it on the muscle, playing chase with you again until he tells you to suck it. And the sound that descends from his lips once you do makes you squeeze your thighs together, your own wetness dripping out of you. 

To end it, Hobi kisses your forehead, lingering there for a few seconds longer. Caresses your mouth, tracing each line, tracing your cupid’s bow, making you glisten with your own saliva. A shining, lively angel—just like him. You whimper. 

“Swallow it, baby.” 

You do, showing him the evidence that you obeyed after. 

“Good girl.” 

You take the underside of him, semi hard, into your hand, giggling, heart thumping. “You just made me horny all over again.”

Hobi hums, brushing his ribbon-clad fingers through your hair from the crown of your head. You want him to do that once you suck him off. “And you’re gonna make me hard all over again if you touch me like that.” 

You mimic the noise he made, squeezing him. Hobi curses, delighting you. “Let’s go inside. I owe you that breakfast, don’t I?” 

He kisses you, softly, with a hint of harshness that causes your nipples to harden painfully against your bra. You almost rub your clit again, so fucking out of it, crazed. 

“You do, baby.” 

You got everything you wanted in such a small amount of time that your vision twirls. Hobi is holding your hand as you’re leading him to your apartment, your ribbon still hanging from yours and his intertwinement, and your heart hasn’t stopped beating feverishly in your chest. Not even once. 

You’re facing the inevitable as you watch Hobi unlace his dress shoes on his knee, his cock stiff and uncomfortable in his pants. You’re brazenly falling for him. You know your hormones swirling your system from the lustfulness you indulged in aren’t to blame—if there’s anyone to blame, then it’s Hobi himself. You consider him to be such a beautiful person that you would be absolutely stupid, blind and deaf not to fall for him. And what’s more, you sense your decline to be safe. Stable. A leverage that won’t ever break. A ribbon that won’t fray. 

It’s as strange as it is inviting and your submission comes naturally to you. And this time, you don’t fear it won’t last. Don’t fear you’ll let up. There’s a sense vibrating in you that assures you that Hobi will take care of it. Put it back where it belongs if it ever strays. You don’t have to monitor it. You don’t have to do shit. 

You were wrong about one more thing. Hobi isn’t Daddy. 

He’s Father. 

It’s this thought that drives you to take off your dress and leave it in the middle of the floor that leads to your kitchen. You’re barren down to your soaked underwear, bra and knee socks, your feet basking in the way they don’t have to ache in your boots anymore. Pulling a plate of eggs out of the refrigerator, you set it on the counter, preparing a pan by oiling it on the stove. You hear Hobi’s feet pad on the floor as you pop some bread in the toaster and you turn your head, seeing only his dark silhouette standing behind you, your dress and your ribbon in his hands. 

Your heart quickens, abnormally. 

“How do you like your eggs?” you ask, resuming your cooking as you break the shell of an egg on the lip of the pan, spilling the delight into the bubbling oil. 

Hobi crosses the distance and you can only feel the softness of your ribbon when he places his hands on your hips, letting them travel until they stumble across the pooch of your lower belly. He groans, holding you there, pressing his hard, silk-clad cock against your nearly bare bum. 

Self-consciousness creeps in as he kneads one of your insecurities and you quiver, clasping your hand over his, your confidence wavering. 

“However you like them is how I like them,” Hobi flirts and you laugh through your nose, shaking your head, waiting for the egg white to fade into that milky color he painted your stomach with. 

Sunny side up it is. 

“Hobi, your game is out of this world,” you flirt back, sliding your spatula under the egg to check if it’s done before you can flip it. 

Hobi lowers himself onto his knees and you gasp, soundlessly. He begins to scatter violent kisses along the dots upon the flesh of your bum, sucking it into his mouth as if it were an orange he was sinking his teeth into. You have to grip the counter in order not to fall over, willing strength into your weakened legs. 

He bites the supple roundness of your ass cheek, smoothing out the pain with a flick of his tongue and kisses, gentle ones this time around. Hums. “Is it?” 

He glides his nose along the inner of your thigh, rooting right in the center of your pussy, burying his face there. You turn around halfway, arching your back, latching onto his hair that you’ve ruined, egg long forgotten. 

“Your thighs are wet again, fuck,” he whispers, mouthing your clit before he descends once again to them, licking them over, drinking your nectar that he’s created. Trails his tongue back up and, sliding your panties to the side, he takes you into his mouth, growling as he sucks onto your lips, playing with them using his tongue, hands spreading your ass cheeks, so he can have more space to make you absolutely lose yourself in him. 

And it’s working. Even more so when he begins to swirl his tongue around that other, tiny hole, causing your eyes to go cross before they roll back. Your head dips into a dreamy daze, where time doesn’t exist as he switches between flicking your clit and eating your ass and it isn’t until a certain burning smell suffuses your nostrils that you snap out of it. 

You’ve burned his egg, its edges black like the feathers of his imaginary wings, and you yelp, turning off the stove, pushing the pan away. 

“Hobi, I burned your egg,” you exclaim and he bends you over the counter while still remaining on his knees for you, sucking your clit with all the strength he possesses. Your climax pinches you in warning, lovingly, promising to melt over you like rain soon, so very soon. 

Hobi doesn’t give a fuck about his egg, it seems. 

“Just a little more, please,” he begs, moving his flat tongue from side to side on your bud, hands descending down your wet thighs until he reaches your knee socks, stopping there. Whimpers. 

That would’ve thrown you over the edge had he not pulled away, fingers wrapping around your knees. 

You turn around and the sight of him on his knees with his glazed nose, mouth and chin, with his cock pitifully erect in his pants, creating a print that makes you salivate, absolutely and irrevocably breaks you. You can still hear his plea ring in your mind, begging you to give him a few more seconds of your pussy, and your brain malfunctions. Numbness tightens around your fingers when you cradle his face and it feels so real when you do so—the fact that you’re wanted, desired; the fact that Hobi is the one in submission to you, dominant yet attentive to you to the point that he would never want do anything you wouldn’t. He listens to you, carves his life around you… and he hasn’t even known you for a month. 

You messed up his hair—and when you run your fingers through his strands, you feel your powerful ruination sifting through them, feel your seduction and your confidence, alive and breathing in that thick, dark brown mop of his. And now you crave to mess up his skin. Bruise it. Stain it with the pinks you can see in his imaginary wings. Watch them turn yellow like the rose gold in their flecks over the following days. 

You’re not letting go of him. 

Not when he looks at you like you’re Virgin Mary and he’s a sinner. 

You pull him up by the collars of his shirt, wrinkling the fabric, adding to the ruination, and it’s electrifying. He’s the cleanest sinner you’ve ever had the grace to see and you want to stain him. Beyond the stickiness of your juices. And when he towers over you and cages you in between his buff body and the counter, hands on either side of you upon the marble, his patchouli scent making you bloodthirsty, you don’t kiss him. No, you go straight for his neck. 

He didn’t expect it, groaning when you lick a stripe over his vein, sucking the skin inside your mouth. Over and over again until the sucking noises make him twitch and fist the ends of your hair, pressing his cock against your stomach. You’re feral, you’re inhuman, scattering kisses along that column like you’ve never had a man in your hands before. And it’s true. You never have. It was always you who had been in men’s hands. Never the other way around. 

Your fingers gain feeling when you undo the buttons of his shirt, ripping some of them, secretly preventing him from going to work after you’re finished with him. Unless you plaster your correcting concealers on him, he really can’t step a foot outside. The bruise you left on his column is huge, purply red, and the only thing it’s missing is bite marks. A joy rotates in you, rooting from the fact that you’re changing his plans, that you have an effect on him, and you unfold that emotion when you tug that shirt down his broad shoulders and press a kiss in the middle of his chest. 

But then Hobi grips your hair on the crown on your head, making you look at him. 

And you can’t explain it to yourself, why you like being manhandled like that, despite the freedom you just experienced. Like a child, whose father let her run free before he scolded her and told her to stop, for she ran for too long and it’s getting cold. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, lowly, and the tone etches itself onto your own throat because your answer is ready on the tip of your tongue, unabashed, dirty, throbbing.

“I need you to fuck me.” 

Hobi blinks, his brows rising, a light like a comet shooting past his irises before an unbounded, starless night shrouds them. 

You’ve done it. You’ve stained him. Now he needs to come all over you. Make a mess. Paint you again. 

He slackens his hold on your hair. Runs his hand down the length. “If I fuck you, I’ll breed you.” Curls his hand around your throat, where those words form a new necklace, plated with that rose gold. Your mouth parts, a moan falling past, your nectar in tandem, mind dizzy from the idea of being stuffed full of his cum. He flattens his palm over your sternum, hooks his fingers over the band of your bra in the middle of your breasts. You hope he chisels the lines of his hand into your skin. You want to wear him. “Are you on birth control?” 

You stopped taking it the moment you were broken up with. Didn’t think you’d need it so soon. Didn’t think you’d have a man in your life again, let alone sleep with him. 

Your body desires to please Hoseok so resolutely that a wisp of your regret swathes around his wrist—regret that you threw away those pills that are the driving force in his sexuality. He might have been okay with not taking this any further, but you’re not. You’re far, far from okay. 

You want to be bred. You want to be bred so much that you could cry. 

Your mouth pouts, but your sadness doesn’t touch your seduction. It merely heightens it. 

“You have a breeding kink?” you ask, mimicking his former words, causing him to drag his tongue over his lips slowly, divulging his arousal. It’s another tree that begins to grow in your orchard, planted by your bare hands. A cherry tree, its pink flowerets the flush that spreads across his prominent pecs. You want to make them shiny with your tongue. 

And you do. 

You place wet kisses over the underside of his left pec, nibbling on the skin, your small stature making it easy for you. Hobi inhales a sharp breath, sneaking his fingers under the cup of your bra, grasping your breast, squeezing until you whimper. 

“A severe breeding kink,” Hoseok corrects you, just like you did in his car. He pulls down your bra straps, his hand quick to undo the clasp on your back, disposing you of the undergarment, dropping it onto the ground. Gooseflesh spreads across your skin and you let him feel it, let him feel the effect he has on you by pressing yourself against him, twisting your arms around his torso. 

A tender hug, in the middle of a bonding moment. You’d be so happy, you’d laugh, you’d skip, if you had never thrown away those pills.

You wonder if he feels the drum of your heart, if he feels how it’s creating a brand new music that no human, no celestial being has ever heard before. 

“I stopped taking birth control several weeks ago, Hobi,” you say, your regret and your sadness lowering your tone. Hobi coos and it makes you want to sob. “Did you bring a condom?” 

He caresses your bare back, your hair a stream of a waterfall that he parts with his hand. “No, I didn’t expect this to happen.” 

You do the same for him, burying your face deeper into his chest, perceiving that you’re embracing a pure angel. You engrave patterns into his skin, feathers of wings that are dripping with the fire of stars. Even though you’re dying to get fucked, this tenderness is, little by little, appeasing your darkness in a way you don’t really understand. 

“We don’t have to do anything. I can make you come with my mouth again,” Hobi says, drifting his nails along the perimeter of your shoulder blade while his other hand grips your waist. The memory of the moons to the sky you paint on his back.

You lift your head. Meet the gray clouds in his eyes. “You want to breed me that bad?” 

A smile curls one end of his mouth. “It’s what you deserve.” 

The same smile finds a way to your mouth, then blossoms into a grin, your heart a heavy music, and you press it into the middle of his chest. Bite him there, his growls another instrument in the song. He clutches the hair at the nape of your neck, coaxing out a similar sound, your darkness a wave that ebbs to and fro. 

“Put it in my ass, then.” 

Hobi calls you by your name, sternly. 

“What?” 

He sighs. “You want to get fucked in your ass on the first date?” 

You don’t know what part of his sentence makes you hiccup. Whether it’s his purity, the fact that such an angel voiced out that lewd desire of yours and didn’t jump head-first into its sea—or whether he acknowledged, once again, that this is a date. Hobi laughs, endearingly, and you blush. He kisses your cheek, lifting your chin, placing a chaste kiss onto your lips and you could die right now and know you’ll be entering the pearly gates. He’s saved a spot for you there, negotiated with God that you’ll spend your eternity there like the businessman he is. 

It’s what propels you to get on your knees. 

“Baby.” 

And it’s him stopping you each time you want more that makes you fall for him harder. 

“You’re so good to me, Hoseok, I can’t help it. I want to give back to you as much as I can.” 

He utters a low, deep curse, tipping up his chin as he cradles your face in both hands. Helps you stand to your feet, kisses you with something that doesn’t resemble the chastity of before and you moan into his mouth, digging moons into his back. You press your pelvis against his thighs, frustrated that you can’t reach his manhood and Hobi hears you, lifts you up and you wrap your legs around him, grinding your femininity against his manliness, squeaking the same curses down his throat. 

“Fuck, baby, grind that pussy on me like that. Just like that, yes. You learn well, don’t you? You’re such a good girl, you just need to get fucked, don’t you, baby?” 

You agree with every word, your expression of pleasure saying the words for you, and Hobi moans, pushing your hips down on him while he meets you each time. 

“Where’s your bedroom, baby?” 

“Down the hall. First door to the right.” 

You suck on his neck as he takes you there, plopping you down onto the edge of your bed. You watch your hands undo the button of his pants, but then he accidentally kicks into something and you know exactly what it is. 

An orange Nike box filled with the two toys you own. 

And Hobi wouldn’t have crouched to get it had you not started giggling. 

How thrilling it is—to see him holding something so private, something no one has ever seen before. 

He palms his cock once he discovers what’s inside, rolling his eyes back. He throws the box next to you on the mattress, pushing you back and ripping your panties out of your body in a split second. Your giggles die, replaced by whimpers, replaced by the beat of your clit and his vulgarities as he pins your knees down, gazing, lovingly, at the way your nectar trickles down to your other hole. He bends to lick it up and you die, too. 

“Naughty fucking girl. How can you be so naughty and so good at the same time? You’re making me lose my mind,” Hobi snarls, putting his entire weight into the back of your knees and you gush for him, gasping, not able to take his praise, your hips instinctually raising for more of his tongue, which he slaps your thigh for. Once, twice, three times, four times until you whimper so loudly that there’s nothing else left for him to do but let up, grab your pink hitachi and lay down on his back, guide you to sit on his face. 

It’s now that he takes the time to ogle your body. His night-tinged eyes glide along your tan lines, his fingers tracing them, making you shudder and rotate your hips above his mouth that he wets and keeps wetting as if it’s not enough to quench his thirst. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he chokes out, brushing the pads of his fingers along your stiffened nipples. Fireworks shoot out above your orchard, casting a rainbow of colors upon the trees and bushes. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you to have you like this. You belong to that museum, baby, but I’d die if someone were to look at you in my place.” 

His possessiveness coated with so much affection and admiration for you elongate your imaginary wings. And you can’t halt the rounding of your mouth, the pool of tears that line your eyes, the cracking of your heart as you take in his precious words. You feel like flying; you feel like soaring free with the knowledge that with the two beats of his own wings he’ll catch up to you, fly with you like two doves. 

You want to kiss him. Pay your gratitude that way and when you begin to crawl down his body, he stops you by grabbing your waist, immobilizing you above his face. 

“Stay where you are. You’re not sitting on my cock until you come on my tongue. Is that what you want? Ride Daddy’s cock until he covers you with his cum?” 

You can’t take it anymore. You simply can’t. 

Hobi turns the vibrator to life and its buzzing sound makes you quiver. You lower yourself onto his mouth that he quickly opens for you, darting out his tongue. He lets you ride the muscle, guiding your hips to twirl in circles, and you hold onto your breasts for emotional support as you sense yourself slowly disappearing in him, in the pleasure he gives you, in his warm, dark aura. 

Your mouth has no lock, no force to stop it from speaking. 

“I was wrong, Hoseok,” you start, changing the direction—swinging your hips back and forth as you grab onto his hair with one hand while the other stimulates your nipple, making you pant, whine and so terribly out of it. “It’s not your game that’s out of this world. It’s your fucking dirty talk.” 

Hobi hums, flicking your hand away and pinching your nipple, causing you to tip your head back and pour more vigor into your movement, his mouth too busy to respond. 

“If you ever talk to anyone like this that’s not me, I’ll kill her, you hear me? She won’t live to see the next day.” 

It’s Hobi now that can’t seem to take it anymore. 

Holding you steady by the waist, he sits up, sucking on your clit with so much strength that you scream, your body shuttering so violently that you completely lose yourself. He throws you onto your pillows, raises your hips until they’re at level with his mouth and finishes his fucking job. Alternates between sucking and licking, stars flooding your vision, the ones you traced on his beautiful, broad back. 

You come and you don’t stop. 

Hobi spits on your clit and presses down the hitachi on it, moving it from side to side, your orgasm prolonging, reaching highs beyond the heavenly kind and all you can see is him, doused in colors that glimmer and his name, the right variation of it this time, falls from your lips like a prayer. Right variation, right prayer. 

Virgin Mary that is looking at her God. 

Setting the toy and your bum on the bed, he takes both of your hands into his fist as you’re still convulsing, in the middle of your undying orgasm. He lines his cock at your entrance, changes his mind last minute, and glides it along your sensitive pussy, holding himself at the base. Back and forth, the ebb and the flow of the sea. The sight does anything but calm you down. It supports the continuation of your orgasm. 

“Listen to me very carefully,” he whispers, lowering your hands to his manhood until they wrap around him. “This cock has been yours the moment you came out of this fucking building to meet me outside. Every ridge, every fucking vein is yours.” He squeezes your hold against him, moving it up and down in an agonizing way that makes him shudder just the same. God at a very breaking point. “And these—” He groans as he uses your hands to cup his balls. “These fucking kids are all yours. Yours to swallow. Yours to decorate this beautiful body with. Yours to stuff your little hole with.” Your chest doesn’t rise with any inhalation of breath. You’re motionless, bloodless, paralyzed through and through. Scorching to the touch. Horny beyond your senses. Hobi pins your hands above your head, lining himself up, at last, at your entrance. Sinks inside you in one swift, but vigorous motion until he’s buried in deep to the hilt and he consumes your scream, kissing you so hard that he sucks every last drop of life you had in you. Then, he nudges his nose against yours, kissing its tip as well. “So don’t think for a second that these eyes are for anyone else but you.” A brutal thrust. A yelp. A loss of time and surroundings. “I’m yours, pup. I’m fucking yours.” A mad, mad laughter. “I’ve known you for a week. Ate your pussy first before I kissed you. And you touched yourself in my fucking car because you got horny from the way I praised you in that museum. How could I not be yours?”

The pet name, the magnificence of his sonnet, the stillness of his cock as you clench around him—the very cozy feeling of him being at home, being at the mountain of Athos that you blessed. You feel so small beneath him, so taken care of—and you’re at loss for words, though only one remains in your otherwise erased vocabulary, and from the top of your lungs, you utter it.

“Daddy.” 

His imaginary wings flutter, the pink swelling over the black, and he growls, letting go of your hands and folding you in half, leaning his weight on the back of your thighs. Props an overlapped pillow beneath your bum, so you’re at the perfect level for him to start fucking you properly.

And he does, coaxing out your screams, causing your legs to shake on either side of his shoulders. 

“That’s right, pup. I’m your Daddy. You’re doing so good, screaming for me the way I like it.” 

Hobi pounds into you, giving you a half of his length that’s more than enough. Bends at the waist to scatter wet kisses along the back of your thigh, filling you to the hilt as he does so, your juices squelching around him, making such a serene, glorious sound that forces him to bite down hard onto your flesh. No alleviation after, just long and ruthless strokes while he stares down at you, eating you with his eyes. The ghost of the pain lingers, adding to the experience, adding volume to your whiny noises. 

“You’re taking it so well. You’re a good pup, aren’t you?” 

You sob, the pressure gyrating deep in your lower tummy, the pet name the thing that will throw you over the edge if he calls you by it again. “Yes, Daddy. I love it when you call me that.” 

A hum. “Oh, yeah?” 

There he fucking goes again. 

A dam rushes to break and you’re defenseless.

“Yeah, I love it so much that it’s gonna make me come.” 

Hobi sucks in a breath. “Tell me you’re my good little pup and I’ll let you come.” The same breath he inhaled lodges in your throat and you watch him with a blurry vision reach over for your hitachi and turn up the intensity until the vibrations are so loud that you hear them echoing within your headspace.

He fucks you faster, ridding you of any chance to speak. Teases you with the toy by placing it, barely, on your stiffened nipple, leaning over to moisten it with his tongue before doing it again. And you can’t stop it and neither can he, the way your orgasm overtakes your whole being. It’s at this moment, when he thrusts become sloppy, that you manage to croak out the words he wanted you to say. 

“I’m your good little pup, Hoseok, oh fuck, yes, yes,” you whisper, your sentence blending into an efflux of legato moans—and this, this is his very undoing. 

And Hobi does something you didn’t expect him to do. 

As colors burst in your perspective and your orgasm drags you under, he stimulates your clit with the toy, pulling out of you and pressing his tip against its vibrating side, growling so deeply that it forces your juices out of you, sprinkling him with its iridescent drops as he tugs at his length. He paints your stomach, paints the hitachi, his nectar so enormous that it lands upon your breasts, even as far as on your neck. His body glistens in sweat and now your essence—and looking at him with your hazy vision, another orgasm rolls in. 

You thrash your body so hard he has to pin you down, ripping the pillow out from behind you, laying down his weight on you. He kisses you and the lip lock lasts, seemingly, for a century. He moves his mouth against yours, basking in the feel of your puffy mouth as he alters between kissing you harshly and kissing you gently, getting to know you this way. 

And when he lets up to breathe, he brushes your hair away, flings the vibrator out until it falls off the bed. 

“Say it again,” Hobi says, affection flashing in his now rounded eyes, its warmth thumping. “Louder, for me.” 

Your throat is dry, but you manage to do it with a sleepy smile. Think you would do anything to please him. “I’m your good little pup.” 

Cupping your face, he kisses you with such tenderness that you begin to cry. Your tears soak his cheeks and he whimpers into your mouth, moved just the same by the depth, the vibrancy of the energy thickening between you. 

And when he looks at you, his own tears rush in his waterline. 

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, pausing for a second. “What have you done to me?”

When afternoon rolls in, Hobi is still tangled up in your sheets. You brought him breakfast to bed, one you didn’t burn this time, while he rested, naked and gratified, still flushed in pink, but clean from your shower. His patchouli scent intermingled with your body wash, cinnamon and lemon, concocting something intoxicating in you that made you see him with a halo above his head. He became a saint by giving in to his desires, by coming so hard that you still feel his hot ropes of cum singeing all those sensitive, intimate parts of your body. Hobi took his time tracing and smearing each and every drop, rubbing it deep in you as if he was digging a grave for your past. And you watched him do it, with tear-stained cheeks, acknowledging yourself, just as intimately, with the information that this is something Hobi likes to do.

You plan to put that into practice the next time you get to touch him. 

He’s grazing his fingers along your arm as you’re laying halfway on your side, halfway on him, your leg in between his. Seems to be lost in thought, seems to be searching for his words when he widens his travel across your body, going as far as to the peaks of your shoulder blades before returning back. You feel an inkling to help him, feel like it’s the least you can do. 

“What are you thinking about?” you try, dragging a finger across his collarbone. Hobi sighs, so terribly reactive to your touch, your head lifting in such a calming manner as he breathes in and out. 

“Did I scare you with what I said?”

His heart under your ear begins to hammer and right away you understand the gravity of his question. He’s lost himself in a flashback of today’s sinful events, but stumbled across a high, overpowering mountain of his bared emotions—the blessed mountain of Athos. And it seems as though he’s forgotten the way back, the trees around him growing dense, the trees of panic that whisper to him that, maybe, he made a mistake. 

You hope, with every fiber of your being, that he doesn’t regret those words of beauty that have come to live under your skin like planets in the universe that you and he have created. 

That would ruin you. That would break you—and not in the pleasant kind that you like. That universe would drop upon you and you don’t think you’re strong enough to pick up your own half of your creation, shake it off and learn to live again. 

You straddle him and he covers you with your duvet. Not your naked breasts, but your torso, inviting you into that island. You thought he did to prevent distraction from weakening his focus, but he doesn’t regard your body like that—doesn’t regard it as an instrument of lust. Something about that moves you, enough for you to take his hands, your thumbs in the middle of his palms, and spatter your soft kisses on them. On his fingers, his knuckles. And when you reach the back of his hand, you halt, boring your gaze into his, catching that comet flying past his eyes again and staying this time, staying in the glint that appears as his brown pools wet. 

“Your words mean a lot to me. I carry them in my heart. You know that poem?” 

Hobi shakes his head, flattening his lips, closing his eyes for a brief moment. 

You don’t mind. You’re delighted to enlighten him. 

“I carry your heart with me,” you recite, keeping the heel of his palm against your lips. “I carry it in my heart. I am never without it. Anywhere I go, you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling,” you finish the first stanza of the poem that has not left your bloodstream ever since you were a teenage girl. Sharing that with him brings out a sea of feelings you remember your past self invariably longed to swim in. Tenderness, closeness, passion. Having it now feels as though you’ve passed a milestone. Hobi’s halo flashes with a rosy pink hue and your softened heart constricts. “The things you said were my doing, Hobi.” 

He caresses your side, starting from your armpit, going down the side of your breast, your waist until he arrives at the fleshy part of your hip, which he grasps. His chin quivers as he opens his mouth to speak and a lump forms in your throat. 

“You’re a poem, pup,” he whispers, circling his thumb over your tummy. “You don’t mind that I said those things?” 

You kiss his hands again, upon the same places to make your affection last longer on his skin. Your clit awakens at the pet name and naturally, you scooch over until you’re sat on his soft manhood over the duvet and you begin to move your hips back and forth. Hobi hisses, but doesn’t stop you this time. Lets you do what you want in the safety you conjured around him. 

“Say them again.” 

You speed up your movement. 

Hobi moans. Pauses. Swallows. Thinks. “I’m yours.” 

You grind harder in reward, moaning with him, feeling him stiffen under your clit, feeling him comprehend that you love those declarations. 

“My cock is yours,” he breathes out, his other hand joining the other and gripping your hip, digging in his nails. Another half moons, another beauty, intensifying the pleasure. You lick your fingertips and pinch your nipples. Hobi shudders, visibly, underneath you. “If you keep this up, I’m gonna have to cancel my work meeting.” 

You laugh, meekly but seductively, prolonging your thrusts, slowing them down, coaxing pained groans out of him. A delight. “Who said I wanted you to go?” 

Hobi curses, switching places with you on a whim that surprises you, bends you over, arches your back by lifting your bum in the air. The duvet falls, sadly, off of the mattress—and your soul, for him, falls equivalently. 

He slaps the side of your thigh. One, twice, thrice. “Who’s pussy is this?” 

You long to see him, your soul begs for it. Whispers to you to grab your phone and you do, swiping your finger on the screen and angling it so your camera has a blissful view of him. Of him fixed, darkly, on your ass and your femininity in the middle. 

Curious to know what’s taking you so long to answer, his brows rise as he discovers what you’re doing and he bites his lip, pulls on your legs to straighten them and you plop down on the mattress with a loosened breath. He gets in the same position. Licks over the swell of your ass cheek. 

“Film it. Film yourself telling me who’s pussy this is,” Hoseok commands and in a millisecond, without a thought spared, you click on the red button, excitement tingling your nerves. 

“My pussy is yours, Hoseok.” 

His eyes flick to the camera, meeting your stare, and your breath hitches, the view so attractive as he mouths that skin, marking it. He sneaks a hand to your clit, lifting his body a little, and spanks the spot he bruised. You gasp, elated, humming in a high-pitched tone, causing him to smirk. 

“Ride my hand. Whose pussy is this, baby, hm?” 

You snap your hips, furrowing your brows at the faint pleasure, at the desperation that courses through your veins. 

“Yours, Hoseok, ah, fuck. I want you inside me, please.” 

And he takes you, right there on camera, from behind—immortalizing your inside joke as you and him mention it and laugh about it together, immortalizing the way he paints your wings that ivory color and the way he rubs it in, sinking it deep within its membrane. 

And when you’re so spent that you can’t keep your eyes open and Hobi is drifting his mouth over your breasts, he tells you to send it to him. And with one cracked open, you do. 

It’s later in the evening that you find out that it wasn’t Hobi you sent that video to and your blood freezes. 

Your phone rings and Jungkook’s picture fills the screen. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah, @fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist | READ part one

[zweigsangel]

hockeyplayer!chris seeing ballerina!reader crying after she messes up on stage. ( requested, i love this sm!! )

you felt a familiar knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach, more intense than ever before. the anticipation of the performance loomed over you like a heavy cloud, darkening your thoughts. the choreography was difficult, each step woven into a tapestry of movement that seemed to taunt your every effort. countless hours of practice had brought you to this moment, yet the fear of stumbling haunted you, whispering doubts into your mind.

as you stood backstage, the air thick with the scent of sweat and polished wood, you could hear the muffled sounds of the audience beyond the heavy curtains. your heart raced, each beat echoing in your ears like a drum.

finally, the moment arrived. the curtain rose, and the bright stage lights flooded over you. in that instant, your eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face. and then you saw him—those piercing blue eyes cutting through the sea of strangers. they locked onto yours, a beacon of reassurance in the overwhelming chaos.

you started beautifully, your movements delicate and fluid, perfectly in sync with the rhythm of the music. you felt light, like you were gliding across the stage, the world outside fading away. but then, in a heartbeat, it happened—boom. a wrong step. a slight stumble, barely noticeable to anyone else, but for you, it was monumental.

as soon as you finished the performance, you dashed backstage, your heart pounding in your chest. you found a small corner, a refuge away from the bright lights and the prying eyes of the audience. sinking down to the floor, you curled up, hiding your face between your knees. silent sobs began to escape you, small and soft, as if the weight of your emotions had finally found an outlet.

the sounds of the audience faded into the background, replaced by the quiet of your own thoughts, the high of performing still clinging to you while the memory of that tiny misstep gnawed at your heart. it was supposed to be a moment of triumph, yet all you could focus on was that slip, that stumble.

“baby, where—” a voice interrupted your thoughts, cutting through the haze of your emotions. in that moment, he spotted you, curled up in your little corner. “angel,” chris murmured, his voice soft and soothing. in an instant, he was sitting beside you, the bouquet of flowers he had brought resting on the ground as his hands found your tear-streaked cheeks, gently lifting your face to meet his gaze. the sight of your big, watery eyes pierced his heart.

“hey,” he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment. “what’s wrong? you were amazing out there.” his thumbs brushed away the tears that were still falling.

“no, i—” you started, your voice barely a whisper, trembling with the weight of your emotions. “i messed up.” you could feel the lump in your throat tightening as you struggled to articulate the storm of feelings inside you.

he shook his head. “what matters is that you put your heart into it. and you did.” his words wrapped around you like a warm blanket. “no one noticed, i promise. okay? you were beautiful,” he continued, his voice steady and reassuring. you found yourself resting your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

“really?” you asked, lifting your gaze to meet his, searching for sincerity in his eyes. “really. you were like an angel up there,” he said, his gaze warm on your face. “my angel.”

[soupandsimple]

Pretty, Like… (with James Potter)

[ little Harry meeting his new baby sister after you come home from the hospital ]

* f l u f f 🥰

** includes godfather Sirius Black; indirect mention of Lily (and it’s not positive sooo..)

This was requested: see the ask here

…………….

“Watch your step dove,” James said as he held the car door open for you with one hand and the baby carrier in the other.

You had just arrived home from the hospital after the birth of your baby girl but that had nothing to do with your husband being so cautious with you- that was just an all the time James thing.

You smiled at him once you were out of the car and stepped aside so he could close the door.

“Ahhhh!”

“Well, I think I hear Haz” James chuckled at the sound of a muffled shriek.

Looking to the living room window you see little Harry’s hands and excited face smushed up against the glass.

Harry was five years old but he wasn’t your biological son; the story with his real mother is one you don’t care to tell. It involves her, her past lover and death and that’s where you liked to leave it at.

“My babyyy, I missed him so much!” you said with your hands at your heart. As it almost always goes, he wasn’t your biological son but you loved that boy more than anything. The little girl in the carrier might be your first birthed child but she was not what you considered your first child.

Having made your way to the front door, you heard all three of your locks rattle undone and braced yourself for Harry’s high volume welcome.

“Mummy! Daddy! Can I see her?! Can I see her?!” Harry exclaimed, jumping up and down at the sight of you both.

His godfather Sirius stood behind him and shook his head in disbelief. “Those sugary breakfast cereals are tasty and he eats them without complaints but you tell me, is it worth it?” he joked, pointing to the bouncing boy with a faux pensive look.

You giggled at the comment and looked down at Harry. “Yes you can see her but let’s get inside first, okay?” you said with a boop to his nose.

Harry nodded and ran to the living room couch sitting himself nice and straight on the cushion, legs drumming excitedly as he waited for James to bring the carrier over with his new sister.

“Okay Haz, you ready?” James asked, setting the carrier down on the coffee table after Sirius removed two cereal-less, milk filled bowls and took them to the kitchen.

“Yes! Yes!”

“I present to you….Hazel Potter!” James enthused, swiping the blanket away from the front of the carrier like a magician.

Hazel squinted her eyes upon the feel of the newfound light, took one glance at Harry, yawned then closed her eyes again and slightly squirmed back to sleep.

Harry squealed and his hands instantly shot out to, what you assume, grab Hazel’s tiny fisted ones but James stopped him before he got the chance to. “Whoa buddy, gentle, gentle. She’s trying to sleep. We can look at her but let’s let her rest for now.”

Harry groaned a little but smiled when he looked down at Hazel again.

“Mama, she’s so tiny but so big also! I can’t believe she was in your tummy” he commented, voice full of wonder and astonishment.

“Your mum is a real life superwoman, don’t you ever forget that” James told Harry with a gentle ruffle to his hair.

“I won’t!” Harry replied, biting down on his lip to admire Hazel some more.

You gifted James a smile of appreciation as he put his arm around you and kissed your temple.

Although it had been a healthy birth, it still hadn’t been an easy thing for you. You’d always been afraid of pregnancy and all it entailed and James knew that. You braved through a lot these past nine months and he’d never take that for granted for as long as he’d live. But truthfully, fear aside, being able to give your little Harry a sibling and James a second child had without a doubt been one of the greatest pleasures you’ve had in life (along with being James Potter’s wife and the person who Harry called mama of course).

“Hey hey, what do you think of the new sister Haz?” Sirius asked Harry, drying his hands against his pants as he came back into the living room, bending little ways over to take a peek at the little bundle of a baby in the carrier.

Harry smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know. I barely know her...but she is very pretty, like a bakery bread.”

A bakery bread. He was talking about the loaves of bread you and James purchased at the bakery every Saturday morning. Yes … bread.

Sirius cackled and clapped his hands at Harry’s comparison while James failed to suppress a smile as he nodded and squinted his eyes at his son.

“Well that’s very nice of you to say. She is really pretty huh, like a bakery bread” you repeated lovingly, with one hand laying flat against James’s chest.

Harry nodded and giggled at how his words sounded coming from someone else.

“Can we go put her in the crib so she can be better?” Harry then asked.

“That’s a great idea baby, she’ll be a lot more comfortable there won’t she” you praised, understanding exactly what he meant by better.

James removed himself from your side and grabbed the handle of the carrier to pick it up. “C’mon then, let’s go show baby bread her bread box” James joked for his son’s amusement.

Harry of course instantly laughed with joy and ‘helped’ James by placing his small hands at the back of the carrier on the walk up the stairs, meanwhile Sirius thoughtfully stayed behind to accompany you at your slower pace; ever since you’d first met him, he had always acted like such a big brother to you and you loved it.

“You know, I’ve watched those two dote on you endlessly these past three years but by the looks of it, you’re going to have to start sharing them with little Ms. Hazel Potter now” Sirius teased. “She’s beautiful by the way.”

“Well thank you…. and as for the sharing, I’m not going to mind one bit” you replied blissfully. <3

[cosmiiwrites]

Fluff idea. Adam wakes up from a bad dream and goes to grab onto you but you aren't in bed. His abandonment anxiety kicks into high gear but you were just getting something to drink. You come back to bed to find him a mess and comfort him back to sleep.

˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ nightmares

·:¨༺ adam x gn!reader ༻¨:·

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ summary: you comfort adam after a nightmare cw: gn!reader, comfort, kissing, fluff a/n: hes just so ughhhh<3

2AM.

adam woke up in a cold sweat. chest heaving, he instinctively reached over to your side of the bed, needing your presence. his heart dropped when he only felt the bedsheets. was it true? did you really leave him for lucifer, just like how you did in his dream? his heart was beating like drums in his chest. of course they left you. why wouldnt they? there's no reason for them to truly stay. "shut the fuck up," adam muttered to himself, or more specifically, to the voices plaguing his tired mind. please be here, goddammit. he absolutely hates the way his eyes go bleary. no. there was no way adam was about to cry over some nightmare. thats pussy shit! adam was about to scramble off the bed to tear the house apart looking for you, when he hears the door creak open. "adam? why're you..." you trail off, seeing your lover in obvious distress. placing your mug on the nightstand, you climbed back into your place next to him. "whats wrong, my love?" you murmur. adam latches his arms around your figure, pulling you into his lap. "dont leave me. dont be like those last two cunts," he pleads against your neck, words muffled, finger tips digging into the fabric of your pajamas. "oh, adam. thats what this is about?" your gaze dropped to your neck, where his face was buried in, refusing to show himself. was he serious? you'd be an idiot to even look in another man's direction.

your thumb grazed the hollow of adam's cheek, gently trying to get him to let you see the face you loved. with a grumble, adam looked up at you, and even in the moonlight you could see the red rims of his eyes, hair clinging to his forehead. "is that what you think? that i'd leave you? baby, no... i'd be an idiot to even consider it." you could see the way his bottom lip quivered. adam felt a heavy weight being lifted off of his chest. lowering your head, you pressed your lips against his, kissing him tenderly. his hands rested on your hips, while yours stayed on his face. the two of you stayed like that for a while, lips moving against each other's in tandem. this was different compared to how adam would usually respond to your kisses: rough, demanding, riddled with lust. no. this was different. it was laced with comfort, reassurance... love. "lets go back to sleep, hm?" adam nodded at the suggestion. you laid your back against the headboard, gesturing for adam to lay on your chest. hastily, he did, arms wrapped around your lower abdomen. the feel of adam's warm weight pressed against you was a feeling you could get from no other. tangling your fingers into adam's hair, you felt him sigh against your chest. adam felt himself succumb to sleep, the last sounds he hears is you reiterating; "i love you." "my handsome baby." "lucifer doesnt hold a candle to you." "i could never leave you." and eventually, he falls asleep, heart feeling heavy with his love for you.

[apclyptc]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN— chris ver.

foreword: please read the first part linked here! it kinda makes sense without but not really so i’d read part one first. the matt version is also linked on that post so if u wanna read that one, head there!

warnings: making out, grinding, handjob, fondling of the upper chest area wink wink nudge nudge, cum eating, slight jealousy from chris if you squint

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“i pick… chris.” you glanced at him to find him smirking, as if he knew his name would come out of your mouth.

it intimidated you slightly, knowing whatever was going to happen in these next ten minutes was going to change your entire friendship thus far.

“oh great, just what we needed. everyone get your earplugs ready.” nate teased, causing others to giggle.

everyone knew chris had no shame when it came to pda.

“okay so just go upstairs and pick a room, as long as it’s not mine. i don’t want you two messing up my bed.” nate half-joked, pointing upstairs.

“bet.” chris spoke, grabbing your hand and taking you up.

maybe he was just putting up a front to everyone else, to play along with the game.

but you knew him better than that, he never put up a front to anybody.

as soon as your hand pushed the handle of the door open, chris turned you around and immediately connected his lips to yours.

there was barely any time to react, once he had shut the door behind him, he was on you, pulling your hips into him, hands on the small of your back.

briefly, he pulled away to speak.

“i’ve wanted this for a while. but you knew that, didn’t you?”

you may have had a small feeling. it wasn’t always there, and it took you some time to figure it out, but the lingering stares–and touches that lasted a little longer than they should– gave it away.

“yes…” you replied hesitantly.

“all those times you were at the house, flirting with my brother, wearing those clothes. you know what you do to me, don’t you?” he brought his face closer to yours, noses practically touching.

“don’t you?” he repeated, hinting for you to answer.

“y-yes.” why were you so nervous? it was like you were unsure of your own responses, stuttering like a schoolgirl being reprimanded by a teacher.

“hey, you don’t need to be so shy. if you don’t want this, you let me know.” he stroked your cheek gently, but the hunger in his eyes was still ever present, looking down at your plump, wet lips.

you definitely wanted this, that much was true.

all you had to do was push through the drumming of your heart at the feeling of his warm hands on your body.

“i do want it… let me show you how much.” you kissed him with all the passion you could summon, licking into his mouth. chris pulled you up by your thighs, walking you to the bed at the other side of the room.

he sat you both down, not allowing you to break from the kiss you shared, growing sloppier by the second. you gyrated your hips into his lap when his hands moved down to grope your ass, guiding you over his clothed dick. you felt it beneath you, bigger than you anticipated, but it didn’t shock you.

“can you feel what you do to me now?” he broke away to catch his breath, a hand moving from your behind to snake up your shirt. he took a tit in his hand, squeezing the mound of flesh.

“is that an invitation?” you allowed your own hand to venture down into the small space between you, copying the pressure he had on your boob, and a sharp intake of breath left his mouth.

“your choice, baby. we only have ten minutes, you think you can finish what you’ve started?” his hips made a single thrust further into your palm.

“only one way to find out.” chris helped you shimmy his pants halfway down his legs, and you tucked his underwear underneath his balls.

watching his cock spring free from the confines of his boxers almost made your mouth water.

considering the fact there wasn’t a lot of time left, you didn’t want to waste any of it ogling at the perfection of his dick, the way it curved oh so slightly, the long thick vein protruding on its side. you didn’t have the time to think about how much you wanted to feel it in places so deep that you couldn’t walk straight for days.

from the moment you gripped the base of his impressive cock, adding pressure in the right places, making him pant with such a simple action, you knew this would not be the last time you were in such a position with chris.

you began slowly, stroking him lazily as you watched him intently. he looked at you with such desperation that it sent shivers down your spine.

when he brought his lips to your neck, sucking over the spot where his own brothers lips had been, that was when you picked up your pace.

chris moaned into your collarbone, biting lightly to attempt to muffle himself, with little success.

“shit, feels so good, y/n.” he mumbled into your skin. the satisfaction you received from his words only boosted your confidence. it was you who was making him squirm, you who was giving him pleasure. it was you who he’s wanted for so long.

god, if you’d had more time, you’d be on your knees for him, looking up at him while you took his whole dick in your mouth. the dampness of your panties made you well aware of how badly you wanted that.

“keep going, fuck, i’m already gonna cum.” he breathed out. chris couldn’t help but rut into your hand when your thumb grazed over his tip.

you were so lost in the moment you almost didn’t hear the knocking on the bedroom door. but you did, just barely.

you stopped what you were doing, hearing nate’s voice.

“times up, chris.” he teased, but he didn’t care.

“fuck off nate, five more minutes.” he replied, and then spoke to you, “don’t stop, baby. ignore him.”

and you continued, despite the wave of embarrassment that had seeped into your brain.

chris reconnected his lips to yours, his tongue practically fucking your mouth as he tried to prolong the moment between you. but try as he might, there was no way he could hold back any longer. he pulled away, his mouth hanging open as he came, his seed spurting out all over your hand.

you slowly milked him dry, stopping when he whined at the overstimulation.

“holy fuck, y/n.” he finally said.

“so i’m guessing that was good for you?” you giggled, taking your hand up to your mouth and licking off the cum dripping off your fingers.

“more than good. come over later? i wanna return the favour.” he smirked, willing himself not to get hard all over again at the sight of you tasting him, forcing himself not to scoop up his own cum and push a finger into your mouth.

“happy to. now what are we gonna say when we go back down there?” you asked, remembering that you were in fact, in nate’s house, where all of his friends were waiting for you downstairs.

“don’t bother, we could all hear you.” nate’s voice was heard from behind the door.

damn.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

a/n holy fucking shit this took so long for me to write like i just could not get into my writing groove AT ALL. i really hope this was worth the wait because christ on a bike this was such sloppy writing from me.

anyway, i have another chris idea imma write. but i hear you asking for more matt stories in my asks, so ill try put on my thinking cap for some matt stories. if you have any you want me to write, let me know!!

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