#although I won’t really mind it if it’s done well
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Legitimately when I was still into ya 15-17 the preoccupation with romance was what made me hate the genre… I felt like it was insulting my intelligence. Like I wanted to read abt kids my age shouldering circumstances way beyond their control like I literally had been reading in children/middle grade lit (ex: Animorphs? Hello?) and complex moral questions or even just Wow! Cool dragon! Knights with sword!
And I thought that there would be more of that as I got older so they’d get more complex and have more politics but it was like they got dumber. Ykwim? Like “So and So is 16/17/18/fucking 19 and thrown into circumstances way beyond their scope. It’s up to them to do XYZ in a society that has failed them or who cannot be relied on. Anyway what about this boy 🥺🫣” and it pissed me off every single fucking time bc it was inescapable!! Every single book!! And -1/10 times was it ever done well! Not even an exploration of codependency or something! This is not even getting into the complete absence of any other interesting dynamic no it’s a motherfucker named Pokemon LeafRain or SkywardSword smoldering in the MC’s general direction and suddenly the war and oppression is the B plot!! God!!
Also special FUCK YOU to Uprooted bc I was so excited about this mentor student dynamic and parent figure and oh she makes a move on this century egg ass old man and they smash. Great 👍 loved that so wanted to read that
#like genuinely it felt like every adult writing this was taking me for an idiot because I was the same age or younger than these characters#and yet none of them could think of anything beyond the nearest love interest#it was shallow riding but also made me feel like the author saw my age group as shallow people#*writing#it doesn’t help that most the protagonist of the books that I picked up were girls#so extra. :/#but even with a male protagonist there is always a female of interest that they could not NOT focus on#*love#sometimes I feel like it was just because it was written by 📄#and so they would demonstrate 🧻 behaviors#but like. the hunger games didn’t do that 😠#anyway I have more thoughts on this but just know that I stopped reading YA at 17 and I still hate coming across romance in my stories#although I won’t really mind it if it’s done well
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MOJABI GHOST
Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Ex Female Reader
CW: NSFW, Cunnilingus, Thigh and Knee Riding, Bilingual Dirty Talk, Penetration, Rough Sex, Needy, Desperate Sex, Mating Press, Cockwarming
Description: Miguel drops by your apartment after he can’t stand the silence of his penthouse. He misses you, and tonight, you’ll see just how much~
Translation done by yours truly~
Song: “MOJABI GHOST” by Tainy, ft. Bad Bunny
Smoking,
Drinking,
Fucking,
Pretending that I don’t think about you.
I don’t who I’m trying to kid,
For this feeling,
Won’t let me sleep.
And I wish,
I wish, that I could dream peacefully,
That I could dream about you.
Another night alone. Another night without you.
Miguel O'Hara looks over view of Nueva York while drinking from his third glass of whiskey on the rocks; rocks that have melted and diluted the drink that has been abandoned for thoughts about you.
The truth is that Miguel has abandoned many things because of his mind— the treacherous bitch does not stop thinking about you.
Who could ever stop thinking about you, is the question that he should be asking. But he doesn't. And he’s well aware why.
Because that would require him to accept the reality that he fucked up the only thing that had given him happiness and warmth after what had happened with his daughter. And once again, it’s something that he doesn’t allow himself to forgive.
At first, you were only a hindrance, an annoyance which he could not get rid of. You were always looking at him with that sweet expression, ready to face the next anomaly with a smile and good attitude. He couldn’t stand you. The fact that you could face every problem and tragedy, a particular characteristic of spiderpeople, without your spirit being corrupted ... he hated it. He hated it to death.
Yet, observe how easy it is for him to lie. Because in reality, he never hated you. How could he hate the one person who received him with such a unique and special warmth and affection— the woman who, one by one, took down each one of his walls, making them crumble to the ground and fall as he did when he fell in love with you. Although, too late.
He lets out a dry laugh. There is no doubt that he is Spider-Man: the people he loves never stay for long.
Isn't that how he ended up here in the first place?
He sighs, exhausted. I don't want to think anymore.
He takes a swig from the whiskey and frowns, letting out a sound of disgust from the watered down drink and decides to get back into the penthouse. He looks around.
And now what?
Fuck this pity party. Miguel may not be in his five senses at the moment, but he doesn’t think twice before activating his nanotech suit and traveling to your dimension. He doesn't know what is the right to do; If you prefer your space, that he never contacts you again. All he knows is that he cannot stand this purgatory; and that your screams and curses are better than the overwhelming silence of his apartment.
As soon as he steps out of the portal into your apartment, you can already sense each other. It is almost impossible to sneak up on a Spider person, that's why he isn’t surprised when he finds you sitting in your living room, staring at him without blinking.
"What are you doing here?" You ask without emotion after several seconds of silence.
"You know what I came for." he says as he removes his mask and approaches your figure. However, your cold look stops him in his tracks.
“I don't care. I want you to say it.” you say while you stare into his eyes sharply. He deserves it. "Be direct for once in your life."
"Hey," he warns, baring his fangs. “Don’t push it.”
You roll your eyes and cross your arms, ignoring his warning. "Then leave. I was clear: don't come back until you tell me how you really feel.”
"Don't you think I want to?!" Miguel shouts, frustrated; Not with you. Never with you. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, controlling his anger. When he opens his eyes, you’re surprised to see actual remorse. "I'm dying to have you in my arms again..."
You can’t help to soften your expression when you caught the frustration in his voice and how difficult it is to express his true emotions at the moment. "Then why the hesitation?" You ask softly, your voice a sweet melody to his ears. Then, a sudden thought makes your blood run cold. “...unless I wasn’t good enough for you.” Your voice trembles and you can't suppress the tears that arise.
Miguel’s face falls and without thinking twice, he runs to you and hugs you tightly, snaking an arm around your waist and his hand behind your neck. He listens as you sob into chest and he brings you even closer, his hand gently stroking your back. "Shh... no, my love, that can’t be further away from the truth." He whispers softly into your ear. "I am the one who’s not good enough for you."
Miguel lets out a dry, incredulous laugh. “I'm the worst… to cause the most wonderful woman in all of the multiverse to think the opposite…” He presses a kiss against your forehead and brings you closer to him. "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Please, forgive me for being such a coward.” He murmurs apologetically as he buries his face into your neck and breathes in your scent.
God, how I missed this smell~
He leans back and stares into your eyes, stroking your cheeks and wiping your tears.
"I love you," he declares, more confident than ever. "I don't want to keep loving you from afar. I don’t want to run away, fearing that one day I will lose you if it also keeps you far from my arms.” He presses his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and whispering the last few words full of emotion, "If I still lose you...”
"God, Miguel..." You crumble once again and hug him tightly. "I love you so much," you confess in the midst of tears. "I’m afraid too, we are both spider people, we both risk our lives to prevent Multiverse from collapsing… our job is dangerous and it is painful to think about the great possibility that I could lose you,” You look into his eyes, holding his face in your hands. "But it hurts more to have you so close, and not by my side."
"I know..." He whispers as he leans towards your sweet touch. “I'm such an idiot. I thought I was protecting you from the pain, but in reality, I hurt you even more.” He stares into your eyes, his gaze full of remorse. "You could forgive this fool in love?"
You laugh softly and Miguel swears that his heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, you look at him with a mischievous smile. "Hmm, I don't know..."
Miguel groans and looks at you with desperation, as if he needed to hear that he has been forgiven to be calm. "Love, please..." He whimpers softly against your neck, kissing it sensually.
Your grin becomes wider and playful. You take his chin and make him look into your eyes. "But you sound so nice, Miguelito~” You purr. “Do it again~”
Shit...
Miguel feels how his cheeks redden and he short circuits when he hears your playful and dominant voice. It was a side of you that he had never seen. Or rather, one he never tried to get to know. He was so obsessed with controlling everything that he never realized that he kept you from expressing yourself around him.
Damn ... he definitely deserves to beg to you.
"My love..." He kneels in front of you and takes your hands in his. He looks at you with pleading eyes. "Please, I beg you... Forgive me. Let me show you how sorry I am.”
You feel your cheeks heat up at the sight of the most stoic and stubborn man in the multiverse kneeling in front of you, begging like a dog. Is this a dream? More like a miracle.
"Wow... You really missed me, didn't you, Miguelito~?"
Miguel takes your hand and kisses your palm, staring into your eyes. "You have no idea." He whispers. Your heart skips a beat, blood rushing through your veins at an extreme speed. You feel the love that this man has for you and you cannot avoid the genuine smile that grows in your face.
You place your arms around his neck and you kiss his cheek. "I forgive you. Show me exactly how sorry you are~"
It takes Miguel less than two seconds before he is on top of you, your back on the sofa while his knee separates your legs. It seems as if all your confidence disappears as soon as Miguel touches you, his large hands gripping your waist. You feel tempted to deviate your gaze, but his crimson eyes keep you paralyzed under their intensity, full of lust.
"Oh baby..." he lets out a soft growl as his lips brush against your neck, making you shiver once more. “Eres mía~” (You’re mine~)
His fingers quickly disrobe you, his lips kissing every inch of your soft skin. His breathing quickens, breathing hot and heavy as his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, hand groping the other. He lets out soft grunts and moans of pleasure as he worships your chest, sucking and biting, leaving wet hot marks on your skin.
You grab onto his hair, your back arching off from the couch as he continues his assault. He lets out a particularly long groan when he feels you grind your wet pussy on his knee. He chuckles darkly and presses onto you even harder, making you shiver and moan in delight.
“That’s it mami…” he growls, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. “Grind that needy pussy on me… make yourself feel good.”
A sound of pleasure escapes from your lips. You close your eyes and decide to immerse yourself in the pleasure that both have refused for too long— no longer wanting to deprive your body of what it craves; and your heart from the one you love.
Your arms wrap around his neck, hips bucking against his clothed knee, soaking the nanotech fabric. He can only watch in awe how easy it was to reduce you to a sensitive mess— rubbing and pressing his thigh against your throbbing pussy, gripping your hips tighter as he guides you.
“Oh fuckkkk… Miguel…” The way you so readily give your body to him— it awakens a primal side to him that even he didn’t realize he had. The need to explore how many times he can make you cum without fucking you with his cock had his mind reeling from the possibilities.
Should he finger you now? Should he make you cum on his tongue? Ride his face?
“Miguel… oh Miguel~” you mewl, the squelching sound of your juices on his leg echoing in the room. Small puffs of hot air leave past your lips, your hips bucking so needy and desperate for friction.
However the night ends, what he does know is that he so desperately craves to hear you whine his name like that again.
“Come on, cariño…” he keeps rutting your hips against his thigh, now unclothed as his dick strains against the nanotech clothing that covers his groin. “What do you need~?”
“Need you…” You pant out, chest heaving rapidly. “Need you inside… please Miguel~”
He chuckles darkly. “Already? But baby, we just started~” He teases, slowing down the rubbing against your clit, making you whine in frustration.
“Fuck that! I missed you, maldito!” You growl, making Miguel’s eyes widen when you voice out your frustrations.
This makes Miguel chuckle heartedly, gazing down at you with affection and primal lust. “You missed my cock that much, baby~?”
“Not your cock. You.” This startles Miguel, actually making him blush. His chest fills with so much love and affection for you. God, he needs you so badly.
“Te amo, mi arañita…” (I love you, my little spider…) Miguel murmurs softly before leaning down and claiming your lips softly. A low moans escape from your lips as you feel just how serious he is. “Missed you… missed your touch…” he breathes out against your neck once he pulls away, his lips brushing against your skin. Miguel shivers and groans, loving the way your warm, soft skin feels against his. You can only watch as he worships you, too paralyzed by this feeling to speak. “Missed your smell…” he inhales your scent softly before pressing a kiss on your neck. “Missed your voice… let me hear it please…”
“Ahhhh… Miguel…” you find your voice, breathing out your response as your chest rises and falls rapidly, trembling underneath him.
“Fuck…” he groans from your needy voice. Miguel trails wet kisses down your hot skin, licking away your sweat. His fangs lightly graze your thighs, teasing you with his tongue. He chuckles when you arch your back, whimpering his name, begging to take you— to do something already!
He grins as he kisses the inside of your thigh. “You’ve never been very patient.”
You whine, your hand making it’s way to his hair and tugging him closer to your throbbing pussy. He chuckles and licks a long, agonizing swipe along your glistening folds, making you groan in response. “Good thing I’ve never been very patient either~”
Miguel takes his time, swirling his tongue, lapping up your juices— yet, the way that he grips your thighs, so close to digging his claws into your skin while he groans from your taste— it only makes him look more desperate and feral than when he first begged for you.
You jolt and shiver in delight, the drag of his fat, warm tongue bringing you to heights of pleasure you only had the joy of experiencing with Miguel. The feelings of pleasure were so delicious and excruciating, it makes you buck your hips against his face. You grind your pussy on his face unashamedly, his nose brushing against your clit deliciously.
Watching from below, how your hips arch and you tug harder on his hair is all that Miguel needed to die happily. His groans and harsh breathing muffled by your desperate grinding.
“Mmm… shlppp… mmnh…” His eyes remain trained on your cute expressions, a particularly harsh suck of your clit eliciting a whiny moan from you that had him reeling.
“Fuck… Miguel…! I’m so close!” You whine so pretty and needy. His claws digging dig into your thighs, pressing his face harder against your cunt as he eats you out like an animal.
Miguel moans against your cunt, murmuring for you to cum on his tongue, to do it now. It comes out a wet, muffled mess, but you didn’t care. You were already a moaning mess as you came, spreading your juices all over Miguel’s face. His tongue works on your core like a man dying of thirst, lapping up every drop of your juices and overstimulating the fuck out of you. He never came up for air, submerged between your thighs, delving his tongue deeper, sucking harder. This is where he belongs.
“Mi— Miguel! It’s too much..!” You whine, trying to push his head away but he’s glued to your pussy— and he’s not moving until he’s licked you clean.
After a few more seconds, he gives your pussy one last lick before he comes back up, his tongue hanging out as he smiles smugly. You twitch and writhe underneath him from the overstimulation, gazing at him with a satisfied and dazed expression. He tantalizingly drags his long tongue around his mouth, lips, chin… cleaning up your cum from his face, making sure you watch. “Dios mío, que rico sabes mami~” (My god, you taste delicious mami~)
You whimper, your hole twitching at the erotic display. Miguel watches as your pussy flutters with primal lust, smiling at you like a predator. “You liked that, baby? Do you still want more?”
Before you could respond, Miguel is on top of you, claiming your lips in a hot, sensual kiss. You groan at the taste of yourself on his lips, this only turning you on even further. He grips your ass, bringing your wet core towards his now fully unclothed and erect cock.
“Mmmngh… mmnh… ahhhhh…” You whimper into the kiss as he grinds his cock against your sensitive folds, spreading your juices all over.
“You want this cock, baby? Huh? I can’t hear you. Tell me how badly you want me. Tell me. Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you.” Miguel whispered into your ear as he kept grinding himself against you, teasing you once again. You can only cry out, frustration building up inside of you as you feel your hole squeezing against nothing, craving his thick cock.
“Please… Miguel…”
“Dime lo que quieres preciosa… ¿quieres que te lo meta? ¿Sí? ¿Quieres que te coja?” (Tell me what you want, precious… you want me to put it in? Yeah? You want me to fuck you?)
“Yes, Miguel! Just… please!”
As much as he loves teasing you, he needed to nestle his cock inside of you. Right. Now.
“M’gonna bury this cock deep inside you… make sure your pussy remembers the shape of my cock…” He chuckles as he lines himself up with your hole and slowly pushes his cock past that first, tight ring inside your cunt. “Fuck… such a tight fit… bet you didn’t fuck anyone with a dick as big as mine…” he groans and pushes further. “no other cock can stretch you out like mine can…”
“No one… only you…” you breathe out in satisfaction as you finally feel your pussy getting full. “M’so full…”
Miguel lets out a string of curses and groans at the feeling of your tight pussy pulsating around him. “Yeah, that’s right baby… only my cock can fill you up this good.” He smirks as he looks down at you, caged between his arms and large body. “Gonna let me fuck this pussy, huh? Want me to pound you until you can’t think?”
“Yes, Miguel! Yes!”
That’s all the confirmation he needed before he started rutting his hips against yours at a fast pace. No time to start slow, no. This is the type of desperate and primal sex that lovers have after they’ve gone a long time without seeing each other. The type that builds up overtime only to be released in the heated thrust of each other’s hips. The type that has you moaning out gibberish and wrapping your arms and legs around him as Miguel thrusts his hard cock inside, going feral on your pussy.
“Fuck… I missed this… I missed you…” Miguel grunts with every thrust, small puffs of air leaving his lips as he ruts even faster, deeper. His muscles flex with every movement. He presses his hot body against yours, feeling your tits brush against his chest with every thrust.
“M-Miguel… please… harder!” You moan, digging your nails into his broad back.
“Yes…” his voice is so rough, so hungry that it’s almost jarring. Every word he says, every look on his face seems to radiate his intense feelings for you.
He needs you, oh, does he need you.
His arms are like steel on your body, keeping you still within his grasp, and he makes you feel every inch of him, pounding himself into you in a frenzy. This is what he had been looking for, needing. He fills your entire existence for just a moment, completely and utterly enraptured by you.
“Te amo… te amo tanto…” (I love you… I love you so much…) he whispers into your ear, biting and sucking on it. One of his hands makes its way between your legs as he rubs your clit. “Ven conmigo, bebé… I need you to cum with me…” (Come with me, baby…)
“Miguel! Ohh… I’m g- Mmm… Ahhhh~!” Your moans are muffled by his lips against yours. The pounding of his cock, his thumb rubbing your pussy, and this hot, searing kiss was all you needed to finally let go. Squelching hot cum bathes Miguel’s cock and balls as you tremble and writhe in ecstasy.
“That’s it, baby… god, you did so good…” he groans, placing your forehead against his as he ruts his hips faster. Grunting as he chases his own release. Not long after, Miguel is cumming inside your pussy, spurting hot loads of his cum so deep you can feel it in your womb. The moans he lets out sound so raw and desperate, you feel like you’re watching a whole other person.
He sighs in satisfaction, pressing a kiss on your forehead before laying down besides you. He pulls you into his body, his cock twitching as he keeps it nestled deep inside your cunt.
“Fuck… I don’t think I’ve ever come this much…” Miguel lets out a breathy laugh and you look at him in awe. The afterglow of your session makes him look so… ethereal. You blush and involuntarily clench your pussy around his cock.
Miguel chuckles. “I felt that, preciosa~”
You roll your eyes and look away from him, flustered. “Then take it out!”
“Mmm… why should I~? I very much prefer having you close like this.” Miguel inhales in your scent and presses a tender kiss on your neck. The action flusters you further, making you blush at his sweetness and his opposing teasing.
“Te amo, mi vida…” (I love you, my life..) He whispers softly as he closes his eyes, bringing you closer into his embrace.
You smile softly and close your eyes as well, slowly dozing off. Not before you utter the same words back, “Te amo, Miguelito~”
.
.
.
.
A/N: A little fun fact: this fic was originally written in Spanish first because I wanted to practice writing (specifically smut) in my native language. I might end up posting both languages on AO3.
#fanfic#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel x you#miguel x reader#miguel smut#atsv miguel#miguel 2099#smut#smut writing
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arguing with ellie n it goes too far
idk if this has been done but um be ready y’all i’m bouta cry
warnings- guys this is kinda sad um, angst, arguing, crying ig, ellie being easily agitated n mean, mentions of death, reader comfort el at the end guys trust!!
“el what’s wrong?” you ask as sweetly as you can. worried about how your girlfriend has been ignoring you and other people all week. she’s just been in her own little world writing and drawing the days away. every now and then you heard little sniffles coming from her direction but choose to ignore it; thinking she’ll come to you when she’s ready to talk but it’s only been getting worse day by day.
she ignored your question again. flinching at your touch and cursing herself in her head for that.
“ellie please talk to me, i made you some food” you comfort once again, reaching out to brush out some tangles in her hair with your fingers.
“i don’t want it.” ellie mumbles out coldy. not even taking her attention away from her drawing.
“okay well i’ll leave it here in case you change your mind okay?” you kiss ellie’s head and unintentionally glance at her sketchbook. somehow she notices and slams it shut. pushing you away from her as well.
“cant you just leave me alone for two seconds?” ellie snaps. her tone of voice taking you by surprise.
“el— i’m sorry i didn’t look—“ you fumble your words. not knowing whether to look at the closed sketchbook or your angry girlfriend.
“i don’t care stop hovering over me constantly, i’m fine stop worrying.” ellie stands up to walk past you but not before you stop her.
“how am i supposed to know you’re fine? you certainly don’t seem fine when you haven’t even had a conversation with me in days!” ellie turns to look at you and you swear her eye contact with you could kill, you forget how mean she can look without trying to.
“drop it i don’t wanna argue with you” she trys walking away again but you grab her wrist.
“please talk to me, what’s wrong??” you beg, and lift your hand to push strands of her hair away from her face.
although ellie pushes your hand away, not roughly though, her touch is still soft unlike her words, “don’t fucking touch me just leave me alone i don’t want to be anywhere around you, just go.”
it hasn’t been the first time ellie had snapped at you like this and said awful things she didn’t mean. for some reason it’s in her nature to just lock away her feelings and attack anyone who tries to push their way in. unfortunately today you seem to be her victim. and after a year of being in love with her, you know her very well by now.
“you really want me to go ellie? cause i’ll go but who’s gonna be taking care of you like i am right now?” you raise your voice at her while picking up things of yours from around her room.
ellie just watches as you pick up your items. sitting there with a lil pout on her lips not saying a word as you stuff more stuff in a bag. but before you can even touch the doorknob to leave she stands up, “wait..” she whispers, if you listened carefully enough you would’ve heard her voice cracking.
“what is it?” you ask rather harshly. opening the door and stepping outside.
ellie panics, her eyes widening and her legs unintentionally making their way towards you in a rush, “wait don’t go” she whimpers.
only then do you turn to see ellie’s eyes filled with tears and her panicked expression. her tough angry demeanor changing in a matter of seconds. n that pout on her lips turned into quivering lips.
your own eyes soften at the sight. you can’t help but feel the pain and guilt for making her cry but you knew she needed a wake up call. you needed to let her know you won’t stand there and just take her hits.
“oh el i’m so sorry” you bring her in for a hug. letting her burry her face in your neck and squeeze you into her hold.
“n-no i’m so sorry i—shouldn’t have been so mean to you. don’t leave me” ellie hiccups and sniffles between her crys. getting your neck all wet with her tears and snot but you don’t mind.
“i’m not leaving you baby i just needed to teach you a little lesson i’m so sorry” you leave kisses all over her hair and scratch her back as she calms herself down.
lifting her head up, you kiss her cheek that’s all flushed and puffy n lead her back to bed. cuddling her and forcing her be little spoon.
a comfortable silence over takes you too as you just lay together, “you wanna tell me what’s wrong now?” you whisper breaking the silence.
you feel ellie take a deep breath and intertwine your hands together, “it’s— around the time of joel’s death date, i think that’s why i’m being like this.”
“i’m so sorry ellie” you try and comfort but you know there’s not much you can say or do to make her feel better about it other than being here with her like this.
“can you scratch my back? it felt good earlier,” ellie smiles at you as she asks the question.
“of course, c’mere” you sit up and let ellie lay onto of you as you lift her shirt up to scratch her back until she falls asleep <33
free palestine !!
#ellie#ellie the last of us#ellie tlou#ellie williams#tlou#ellie x reader#ellie williams fic#the last of us#ellie angst#ellie fluff#ellie x fem reader#ellie x masc reader#ellie fanfic
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sleepwalking ● 23 | jjk
pairing: jungkook x fem!reader
summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.
genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers
warnings: explicit language, mentions of drugs (nothing graphic), descriptive SMUT (pet names and a sprinkle of worship included, beware), fluff and too much flirting to be allowed, some angst, SLOW BURN
words: 19.8k
read from the beginning ○ masterlist
chapter 23 ► in this open warfare, i won't fight fair, and in your waking moments, i will be there
The next morning, you and Jungkook took Minjun, Luna, and Maggie to a small restaurant—unreasonably far from your hotel in London—to have a late breakfast and to plot. The five of you were a lot more concerned with the latter, and the bacon and egg sandwiches on your plates were relegated to mere decoration.
You had already discussed your plan with Luna and Maggie over the phone last night, but you wanted to meet everyone in person to ensure you were all on the same page, and to inform Jungkook of his role (which was intentionally non-existent).
You believed that the fewer members of Rated Riot got tangled up in Sid’s slimy web, the lower the risk of collateral damage. Ideally, you would have left Jungkook out entirely. But his friendship with Sid made him a linchpin in the machinations of your scheme—he would be the most affected if something went awry.
“This plan relies heavily on the circumstances, I admit,” you said, while your friends feigned interest in their food to avoid the disapproving glances of the restaurant staff. “But maybe that will work to our advantage because we will hardly have to do anything. We will draw the authorities’ attention to Sid, and that’s it. He’ll do the rest himself.”
“Yeah,” Minjun added as your primary accomplice in this scheme. He was busy trying to stop his napkins from blowing away in the fierce wind on the restaurant’s terrace. “And that’s why we need Jude to let us into their hotel room—”
“Wait,” had become Jungkook’s new favourite word. He used it now, too. “And are we sure that Jude won’t change his mind?”
Maggie and Luna turned to you, mirroring Jungkook’s skepticism.
“We’re not,” you admitted. You were aware of the risk, but time has never been more of the essence, and Jude was your best option. “We’re not telling him too much and hoping for the best.”
“And to be honest,” Minjun added, “the fact that she gave him that laundry list of shit to do—”
“Wait,” Jungkook said again. “What list?”
You waved off his question, but Minjun answered on your behalf, clinging to this as if it was the only convincing evidence the five of you had against Jude changing his mind.
“Like, vitamins and stuff,” he explained. “To ease his withdrawals. I don’t know if he followed her instructions, but anyone could see how much it meant to him, just the fact that she cared enough. Maybe that’ll be what keeps him on our side, even though he’s back with Sid right now.”
Maggie wrinkled her nose in clear disapproval, although you knew she would have reacted the same way if she’d seen Jude—her heart was bigger than her head, bless her.
“He’s done nothing to deserve this from you,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, he—yeah,” Jungkook agreed, the confidence in his voice wavering as he alternated between gratitude for your concern about Jude, and guilt for putting you in this position. “You didn’t have to help him.”
“He’s really not doing well,” you said. “And don’t think I’m so kind, I acted largely out of my own self-interest. We need him for our plan.”
Jungkook recalled Jude’s sneezing, his shivers in forty-degree heat, and his nausea. All of his symptoms always came and went without warning, but the memory of someone going out of their way for him was likely to stay.
“Okay,” Jungkook acquiesced. “That’s—let’s keep going.”
“We won’t need to involve Jude every step of the way, though, right?” Luna clarified. “I mean, I assumed we’d mainly need him to get rid of whatever Sid has in his phone gallery.”
“Yeah, but not just—we’re not just deleting the videos with Jungkook,” you said, glancing at Minjun, who had supported you wholeheartedly when you mentioned this part of the plan to him. He nodded now, too, encouraging you to explain. “We’ll delete everything he has in his Cloud storage and factory reset his phone. I doubt Sid had enough sense to back up his files to an external drive, so this will clear every copy of everything he has on there.”
Maggie’s eyes finally lit up with lively excitement, Luna nodded in agreement, and you felt a smile forming on your own lips, too.
Jungkook, on the other hand, appeared almost disappointed.
“W-we don’t have to go through all of this just to delete those videos,” he said, fixing his gaze on his untouched cup of matcha latte; the artwork on the surface had begun to blur. “Those things happened. I did all of that shit, and Sid recorded it. That’s who I was back then, and maybe I shouldn’t try to—”
You interrupted his words—the ones you’d already heard before—with a gentle touch of your hand over his restless fingers, and Jungkook stilled, turning to you.
“No, those videos are not who you are. You are the one who decides who you are,” you reiterated once more and the table fell silent around you as if everyone had witnessed something they were not supposed to. “And if you want to leave those things in the past, you should be able to. Sid has no right to bring it up now.”
“But if we lock Sid up,” he persisted, “then maybe those videos won’t matter anyway.”
“He could publish them,” Minjun countered. “He sent them directly to you now, but he could post them publicly later. I’m sure he’d find a way to do that even behind bars.”
Jungkook felt a rush of dizziness and he was very grateful that you’d pressed your hand on his. Minjun was right. Sid had done something like this before when he’d posted your picture; he clearly wasn’t above making private matters public.
“We would leave the videos be, let Sid have them, whatever,” you continued, reading the colour on his face, “but he wants to use them against you. He’s cutting them up to paint you as an irresponsible asshole. And you’re not an asshole, Jungkook.”
“Yeah,” Minjun agreed. “And I talked to Jude about an hour ago. He sounded sober, which is shocking to me, but, anyway—Sid has plans to go out tonight, so Jude should be able to do this tomorrow morning while Sid’s still passed out.”
The whole terrace of the restaurant seemed to hold its breath in anticipation as soon as he said that, the clink of cutlery and the muffled chatter around you growing tense.
Jungkook, even dizzier now, turned back to you once more. You gave him a small nod.
He took a breath and nodded back. “Okay. Alright. Fine. Let’s do it.”
“Good!” Maggie cheered from across the table. She turned to Jungkook, and you watched as her reassuring tone chased the last doubts from his eyes. “Even without those videos, we need to do this to get back at Sid. And I know this will do just that. I’d be tearing my hair out if someone cleansed my Cloud.”
You noticed that Maggie was much more vigilant with her phone today, hardly letting it out of her sight. She’d improved her security measures and had to enter her passcode every time she wanted to reply to a text today, because the facial recognition struggled to recognise the wind in her hair. This was the reason she hadn’t bothered with it before, but Sid had taught her a valuable lesson.
You gave your friend an agreeing nod and settled against the back of your chair.
Luna sat on your other side, leaning her elbows on the table, and she quickly noted the way Jungkook’s eyes widened when you pulled back, as if you had torn off a piece of his skin. She glanced at Maggie, who noticed nothing and kept checking the time on her phone as if she was late for another meeting to plan someone’s arrest.
Somewhat disappointed, Luna turned back to you, her grin doubling in size to compensate for her lack of company in teasing you.
“One big problem,” you said, focused on the intricacies of your plan and, therefore, unaware of your surroundings, “lies in our next steps. If we manage to get Sid arrested, he will likely weaponise his friendship with Jungkook. He’ll try to make it seem like they’re as close as brothers, and if he’s going to jail for meth possession, then Jungkook is probably doing drugs, too.”
You pulled your phone out from your bag and allowed for the weight of your words to settle on the table like a heavy grey tablecloth while you opened your gallery.
“So, this morning,” you continued, “Maggie and I put something together. This is a list of people who are banned from Rated Riot’s shows.”
You passed your phone to Luna first. She looked at the screen, nodded, and handed the phone to Maggie, who smiled to herself right away—she had designed the layout of the list and was very pleased with it.
By the time your phone reached Jungkook, he was already squirming in his chair. As he examined the list of names, displayed in bold white letters on a black background with a crumpled paper texture that Maggie had crafted and digitalised herself, he realised that the only name he recognised was Sid’s.
He looked up. “But if you post that—that’s—isn’t it supposed to be confidential?”
“I won’t post it,” you said. “We’ll leak it.”
“Oh.” A gleam of affection suddenly sparkled in his eyes. He felt a little like he’d just met you for the first time, all over again. “Can we do that?
Maggie reached across the table, snatching your phone from Jungkook’s hand to see the picture of the list again. She scrutinised the names for a minute as if trying to uncover the social security numbers of the people listed.
“No,” you replied. “But Sid never played fair, so we’re simply levelling the playing field. The other names on the list are made up anyway. They’re generic enough to match someone on Facebook, but no one will know which person is on this list.”
“But they’ll recognise Sid,” Maggie pointed out, squinting at your phone. “Even though he’s listed as Isidore here. Right?”
“That’s him, yeah,” you confirmed. “And you’re right. Everyone will recognise Sid. We’ll leak this before he gets arrested, and anything he says after that will just be taken as blatant slander.”
Jungkook took another deep breath and glanced at your phone, which Maggie slid towards you across the table. It bumped against the corner of your empty water glass.
“Won’t there be consequences if something else leaks?” he asked, his teeth grazing his bottom lip.
“Yeah, I was thinking that, too,” you admitted. “But then, Luna texted me a brilliant idea last night.”
You gestured towards your friend, and she continued.
“It’ll be accidental,” she explained. “Maggie usually posts backstage pictures on her Instagram. She has almost as many followers as the main account of your band at this point. So, later today, she will post a new set of pictures, and this list of names will just happen to be visible in some shots. Just a coincidence, really. And then we hope that one of your fans will notice it, zoom in, catch Sid’s name, and share it.”
Jungkook looked down, nodding to himself. He realised that Sid stood little chance against the collective resolve of everyone at this table.
“They will notice it,” he said. “I don’t doubt it.”
“We’ll have to rely on them to spread this,” you added. “Even though this list isn’t really something we need to hide. It’s just, you know, sort of customary in the industry to keep your dirty laundry to yourself.”
“Alright,” Jungkook said, sensing the weight of everyone’s gaze on him. He had the feeling that everyone was waiting for his final approval to move forward with this plan. “So, uh, Maggie won’t get into trouble for posting it?”
“Hmm?” Maggie looked up from her phone at the sound of her name. “Oh. No. I’m the photographer. As long as I get good shots, I never get in trouble. And this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve taken a picture that reveals more than I intended.”
She gave you a sheepish look, and you shook your head, sensing where the guilt in her eyes stemmed from. Maggie knew that Sid was behind the chaos caused by the bathtub picture, but she still felt a gnawing sense of responsibility because she was the one who had taken the picture.
“Alright. You, uh—you guys really put a lot of thought into this,” Jungkook remarked, looking at you first, then at your friends, and finally at Minjun on his other side. “I’m, uh—I-I’m actually a little afraid of you.”
Luna and Minjun snickered—Maggie was back on her phone, but she was smiling, too—and their excitement made you feel much more optimistic.
“Good,” you said, reaching out to touch Jungkook’s hand again. He immediately turned his hand round and firmly clasped yours—to ensure you wouldn’t pull away this time. “Sid should be, too.”
A tense silence settled over the table, punctuated by the subdued conversations on the terrace.
For the first time since you arrived at the restaurant, Jungkook finally took a sip of his coffee. It tasted bitter and lukewarm. You refrained from touching yours, but accepted a bite of Luna’s tiramisu. Everyone else at the table seemed to remember simultaneously that they had ordered food when they got here.
“Uh,” Maggie spoke up after a second, still chewing on the brown crust of her bacon and egg tart. “Is this a safe space for us to voice our, uh, concerns?”
You straightened in your seat, bracing yourself before she’s even said anything. Jungkook sensed your growing anxiety and squeezed your hand.
“Of course,” you replied, keeping your voice steady.
“Okay.” Maggie swallowed and set down her fork after taking exactly one and a half bites. “Well, I’m worried that Sid will say something provocative and one of us will end up getting arrested for assault.”
There was something absurdly comical in her question—or the potential outcome it suggested—and you could see Minjun quickly lower his head to conceal his broad smile.
Jungkook, meanwhile, was extremely pleased that no one turned to look at him, the person who had, more or less, already assaulted Sid before. It comforted him to know that everyone here would have loved to smack Sid upright in the head, too.
“That’s a great point,” you said, clearing your throat. “If he provokes you—well, then you might have a legitimate reason to, uh, land a good punch. You probably wouldn’t be held in custody too long for that. There’s no premeditation, you acted on impulse because of something he said.”
Minjun raised an eyebrow at you from across the table.
“I thought our focus was drug laws,” he said. “Did you research assault, too?”
“I researched assault laws the day I met Sid,” you deadpanned.
He snorted. “Yeah, fair enough.”
“Not to mention, we can always argue it’s self-defence,” Luna added, prodding her sandwich with a toothpick as if it were a not-quite-dead bug. “Sid is very—let’s say, aggressive.”
“That’s true,” Minjun agreed. “Especially when he’s irritated.”
The energy around the table had increased considerably; everyone seemed to have something to say about possible reasons to hit Sid. Maggie was already listing five ways to throw a punch that would knock out your opponent—she had a WikiHow article open and was illustrating it with enthusiastic demonstrations on Minjun.
You realised, quite suddenly, how happy you were to sit here with your friends. They were smart and cunning enough to rob a bank, escape a prison, and start a money laundering scheme all in a week, but they chose to be sweet and loving and a little vengeful instead. You felt almost giddy.
“He wouldn’t throw the first punch, though,” Jungkook interjected with a hint of frustrated sorrow. Maggie halted her research, retracting her fist from Minjun’s cheek. “He’ll just keep running his mouth until you strike him. And he’ll make sure the provocation is very minimal.”
“Well, sure, but who at this table will attest to any of that?” Luna questioned, undeterred. “Everyone who witnessed Sid throwing the first punch, raise your hands.”
All of you raised your hands in perfect synchronisation, and Jungkook felt himself smile again.
He had never doubted the success of your plan, even if he doubted the details. But sitting here now, while all of you held your hands up, he was fully convinced that this meeting marked the beginning of the end for Sid.
“Right. Okay,” he said. “I like how this is looking.”
“Me too,” Maggie said, locking her phone and slouching in her chair. “I feel better now. Didn’t want to spend the night at the police station.”
“You wouldn’t,” Luna assured her. “We’d bail you out.”
She snickered. “That’s good to—”
Jungkook suddenly jumped up in his chair, interrupting her.
“What about Sid’s bail?” he asked urgently. “Can he—could he pay for his release?”
Everyone at the table turned to you once more. When you and Minjun did your research yesterday, your focus had quickly turned from penalties to potential loopholes that Sid might use with his money, so you understood their sudden concern.
“No,” you said. “Apparently, it doesn’t work like that here. They would give him bail automatically; he wouldn’t have to pay. But they need to charge him with a specific offence first, and they won’t know the exact charges until they know what, uh, substances he was carrying on him and keeping in his hotel room—oh, and how much. Not to mention, bail may be denied if there is a risk that he’ll commit further crimes. And we know Sid is violent. He will not sit idly in his little cell.”
“Yeah,” Minjun agreed. “We’re 95% sure he won’t be given bail.”
You nodded, grateful for his confidence.
“So, we definitely won’t be in London by the time they charge him,” Maggie concluded, frowning. She regretted not ordering whiskey instead of espresso; alcohol helped her think.
“Definitely not,” you confirmed. “Our plan concludes with Sid’s arrest, everything else is not our problem anymore. And we’re only participating in this as the staff of Rated Riot, so the only people who will have to speak to the police are those who will be present when they arrive at the venue tomorrow. So, ideally, only Luna, Mick, and me. That’s it. That’s as far as we’re getting involved.”
“Wait,” Jungkook said. He understood the need for Mick’s presence and felt comforted that you’d have someone from security with you, but now he was worried about your friend. “Why Luna?”
“We need an additional witness to observe Sid’s erratic behaviour,” Luna explained. “We thought it’d be better to have someone random, and not just your manager and head of security there.”
Jungkook kept his gaze on hers. “How do you know he’ll behave erratically?”
She gave him a look.
“Right.” He leaned back in his seat. “Good point. Okay.”
He already knew that the odds were good that Sid would try to provoke you tomorrow, but now he realised that even if Sid suddenly decided to be docile, it wouldn’t matter. The five of you were tight as a glove—Sid could sit in a corner, purring and meowing, and you would all collectively claim that he was threatening you.
Finally, Jungkook realised that he had narrowly escaped something dreadful, and he felt very grateful to find himself at this table, and not on the other side of this plan.
“I, uh—this isn’t a concern exactly,” you said after a minute. “But I have to say that a lot of this hinges on Sid trusting my word, and I’m—well, I’m not sure if he’ll care about anything I tell him.”
Minjun looked almost offended. He was the one who devised this strategy after you told him that you needed a way to quickly draw the attention of the authorities to Sid.
Why don’t you call him? Minjun had suggested. And invite him to meet you.
You had thought he’d decided to go insane right before talking to you. But you’d kept your suspicions to yourself because, ultimately, calling Sid seemed like the only option. It felt unfair, however, not to mention your doubts now.
“Actually, I agree,” Jungkook said, giving you a long look. “I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with any of that. You’ll have to be alone in a room with Sid. And we can’t be sure that he won’t—”
“Sid will care,” Minjun asserted, ignoring everything Jungkook had said. He kept his gaze on you, his certainty almost as intimidating as it was comforting. “Maybe not because he has feelings for you, but because you’re Jungkook’s girlfriend.”
Maggie looked up from her phone, surprised about the possibility of Sid having any feelings at all, and turned to Luna. The two of them finally exchanged the look that Luna had been waiting for.
“And you’re okay with doing this?” Jungkook asked you, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips. He was careful not to miss any hint of dishonesty.
“I’m okay if this actually works,” you said. “If Sid shows up. If we get him arrested. I’m willing to try this if you’re all sure that we’ll succeed. And I wouldn’t be all by myself anyway.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about that part,” Maggie said to Jungkook, rolling up her sleeves for emphasis. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to be at the scene tomorrow, but she felt she had a personal debt to settle with Sid, so she would find a way to interfere if she had to. “I can fight.”
Jungkook looked at her in a way that was more amused than it was skeptical—Maggie was very small in size, but very big in energy—and she tried to flex her arms to prove her point.
“I believe you,” he said, a smile breaking through his uncertainty. “I just don’t like that this will all be happening during our show. I won’t be there with you.”
“That’s just the plan,” you said. “We need to keep you away from him so that anything he says later won’t carry any weight. He’s obsessed with you and he has problems, and you’ve been distancing yourself from him for some time now. We’ll release an official statement about your, uh, separation once we’re done with him. And the leaked blacklist will back up our claims.”
A resigned acceptance clouded Jungkook’s features: he understood that this was the right decision, but he couldn’t help feeling unhappy about it. However, although he would have typically complained and whined about this—and you expected him to—now his posture was stoic.
You felt a little dispirited. You knew you wouldn’t joke around much today, but Jungkook’s unusually serious demeanour emphasised the gravity of the situation even more.
“Okay,” Minjun said. “Any other concerns?”
You shifted your gaze to him.
“Actually, I have another one,” you said. “I’m also worried about how this will affect your parents.”
The two girls beside you exchanged another glance—you hadn’t explained Minjun’s family’s dependence on Sid’s mother yet.
“If Sid’s in prison?” Minjun asked, unperturbed. “Well, their stocks will probably drop, so it will be weird to throw a party. I think we’ll celebrate quietly.”
You glanced at Jungkook, and he met your eye with an amused grin.
“You sure you’re okay with this?” he asked Minjun then.
“Are you kidding?” Minjun looked optimistic and upbeat. He seemed ready to take on the world, and locking up Sid was just the first step. “We should have done this years ago.”
Maggie suddenly slammed her palm on the table, forcing everyone’s coffee cups to rattle against the plates.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” she exclaimed, and her excitement quickly spread to the rest of the table.
“I agree,” Luna added, much quieter. “But maybe it’s time we headed out. The people at the next table are whispering and, uh, pointing at Jungkook.”
Jungkook raised his eyebrows and turned to you instead of looking around, his expression filled with a shocked wonder. He had only been recognised in public a handful of times since Rated Riot started out, and each instance had left an indelible mark on him.
You gave him a smile and a nod that spurred him out of his chair and towards the people at the neighbouring table, all of whom held their breaths when he stood up.
You glanced back at your friends—all smiling as they watched Jungkook introduce himself and singlehandedly cut off the air supply of four different people—and you thought about how wonderful it would have been if you had met Maggie and Luna earlier. If Jungkook and Minjun had stopped entertaining Sid’s whims sooner. If you and Jungkook had never broken up at all.
Perhaps, you thought, there was an alternative universe where you’d known and loved these people your whole life. You felt very close to that universe now.
Just as you finished your breakfast—where the five of you consumed one cup of coffee and half a slice of tiramisu in total—you executed the first step of your plan and sent a text message to Sid. It was innocuous, just a conversational, “are you ever going to stop doing this?” but it was meant to serve as a subtle precursor—so as not to approach him out of the blue tomorrow.
Then, as the five of you exited the restaurant, Maggie got enthralled by the most gracious little corgi sitting at a table, and dragged Luna and Minjun (who looked like he was not sure what was happening) back inside to ask for pictures. You and Jungkook opted for a scenic route back to the hotel instead.
Although the day was overcast, the sky did not look particularly ominous, offering instead an unexpected serenity that you thought you could use to clear your thoughts.
Interestingly, fresh air was not what you really needed at all. It was his hand holding yours as you strolled past extravagant hotels and expensive restaurants near Hyde Park, weaving through crowds of rushing tourists and cranky locals.
You felt significantly lighter with your hand in his, but Jungkook still appeared troubled. The shadows on his face were far more pronounced than those in the sky.
“What’s on your mind?” you asked.
He let out a weary sigh as he met your gaze. He seemed overwhelmed—as though his head was trying very hard to grow twice as large to contain all his thoughts, while the rest of his body fought desperately to resist the growth.
“I—well, I didn’t want to say this in front of everyone,” he started slowly, “but I’m worried about you.”
“Me?” You frowned. “Wh—because of Sid?”
“Because you’re doing all of this on top of your other responsibilities,” he said. “I don’t want you to burn out.”
Your expression visibly softened, but dark edges of guilt still coated the appreciation in your eyes. You felt disappointed in yourself—for letting it get so far that, over a week later, Jungkook still sometimes looked at you as though you might faint any second.
“That won’t happen,” you replied, your tone gentle, but determined. “I promise. And I’m not alone. I have so much help. And this won’t—it’s just a few days. We deal with it tomorrow, and it’s over.”
“Okay. But what if it’s not?” he questioned then. “We’re heading to Paris right after we, potentially, deal with Sid. And what if it doesn’t work, and we’re not here to fix it?”
You had to admit, this same possibility had been weighing on your mind ever since Jude first mentioned the bags of drugs in Sid’s hotel room. However, as soon as you saw Jungkook’s solemn features, you found yourself resisting all these worries. You would figure it out, no matter what happened, just so he wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.
You shrugged nonchalantly. “Then it won’t work.”
“He’ll be furious,” Jungkook said. “Even more vindictive than before.”
“I know,” you replied. “But no matter what he decides to do, we won’t back down, either.”
Jungkook frowned so deeply that several new wrinkles declared permanent residence between his brows. He dreaded the idea of spending a lifetime seeking revenge.
You sensed the reason for his apprehension—you wanted this over quickly, too—and instinctively squeezed his hand.
“I’m with you,” you said, reaching for your phone to check if Sid had reacted to your text. “And I told you, I’m not entirely convinced that this will work, either. I mean, here, look. Sid hasn’t replied. But if this plan falls through, we’ll come up with something else. Maybe something—well, less grand.”
He glanced at your phone, toying with his lip ring between his teeth. The prospect of failure felt more daunting with each second that Sid remained free to do whatever he pleased.
Jungkook didn’t want to do something else. He wanted this to work.
“Maybe he hasn’t replied because Jude deleted everything,” he suggested, searching for a plausible explanation that aligned with your plan. “Including the texts.”
“No, that’s tomorrow,” you reminded him. He groaned. “We need—Sid needs to notice my texts first. Then we delete them. I’ll use a disposable SIM card tomorrow, so there’s no trace that I ever contacted him.”
Jungkook felt like his head had already grown far too large for his body. He was a bit unsteady on his feet and clutched your hand tighter.
“Right,” he said. “Okay. That—yeah, no.” He lifted your intertwined hands to scratch something at his forehead. “My head is spinning. I can’t remember that much.”
You gave him a sympathetic nod. “That’s fine.”
“I’m not saying that I’d be too dumb to follow a plan like this,” he felt the need to insist.
“I didn’t think that.”
“I’m just saying,” he continued. “There’s a lot.”
You nodded in exaggerated agreement again. “Mhmm.”
His eagerness to prove his intelligence to you was very endearing. But it was a little funny, too, and Jungkook stopped walking to study your expression more closely. After a moment, he came to an appalling conclusion.
“You think I’m dumb,” he said.
A wide smile finally broke out on your face. “I think you’re very pretty.”
“Very pr—okay.” His expression shifted as you laughed, pulling on his hand to continue walking after an elderly couple gave you a rather well-deserved disapproving look for blocking their path. “Pretty and dumb. Is that your type?”
“It is,” you said, grinning. “That’s why you’re the only boyfriend I’ve had.”
He raised his eyebrows and scoffed. “Oh—wow. Wow. I am both very flattered and very offended.”
You chuckled, gently pushing his shoulder with yours. Jungkook shook his head and finally smiled, too. But right as he prepared to say something else, he ended up having to quickly yank your hand, pulling you into him and out of the way of an oncoming bicycle.
“Shit,” you were breathless against his chest as the bike drove past, your hair whipping forcefully in the wind, “thank you.”
“Pretty and dumb,” he said, allowing you to take a step away from him now that the danger has passed, “but with great reflexes, huh?”
You laughed again, leaning into him when you did and successfully dissolving everything sharp and uncomfortable in his chest.
“I know you’re not dumb,” you said. “And let’s be realistic: Minjun and I had been simmering in the details of this plan for days. You just barely learned about it a few hours ago. We’ve got this. I wanted you to know what we’ll do, but I don’t want you to be involved at all.”
“Yeah. I—no, I just…” he faltered, weighing his next words. The thought of everything that would happen tomorrow made his stomach feel very heavy. “I feel like you’re trying to protect me from Sid by keeping me out of this, and I’m—I don’t know how that makes me feel.”
“We’re not just keeping you out, we’re keeping the whole band out,” you said. “I want to protect all four of you. And if anything, you’re the only member who isn’t entirely excluded. Does that… make it any better?”
Jungkook considered this for a moment.
“Not sure,” he said. “Because I’m still not participating.”
Exhaling softly, you looked around, searching for a quiet spot on the pavement where the two of you could step away from the crowd. Nearby, there were two traditional phone booths that tourists were gathered around, obstructing your view. Once you passed them, you noticed a parking meter right by the park gate that everyone seemed to avoid. You decided to pause there.
Jungkook glanced around before stopping in front of you, slightly unsettled by the large, dark green hedge covering the park fence, and all the bugs that emerged from it—bees, mostly. They all seemed very curious about him.
“Okay, look at it this way,” you began. “Sid has known you and Minjun since you were kids. He knows all your weak points. He can predict exactly how you and Minjun will react in any situation. Sure, you took him off guard when you gave up your Katana, but he can still read you very well. He doesn’t have that luxury with me, Luna, or Maggie. He’s less certain about our reactions. Who else could do this if not us?”
“Right,” Jungkook murmured. “But you’re still going out of your way for me, and I feel—”
“And why wouldn’t I?” you interrupted. “I love you.”
He thought he died for just a second and it felt surprisingly nice: he could feel something soft and warm against his skin—the phantom shivers of every time you’ve touched him before—and he could taste a sweet, lingering flavour on his tongue—from every time he felt your mouth against his own.
He would never tire of hearing you say you loved him. The only downside was that his chest usually attempted to collapse in on itself right after that, leaving him speechless for anywhere from a minute to several days.
“Not to mention,” you continued while Jungkook fought against the haze in his mind and the bumblebees around his neck. “Sid has long stopped at just you. With the videos and pictures he’s sending you, he’s threatening everyone on this tour. Anything that affects your reputation, affects the band and the staff, too. So, when you look at it like that, we’re really doing this for everyone.”
Finally, Jungkook managed to stop his thoughts from pulling him in every direction and anchored himself to this pavement right here—with you, and the persistent bugs, and the chattering of people as they walked past you.
He squeezed your hand that he had not let go—not now, and probably not ever, really—and exhaled.
“Yeah, I get that,” he said. “But I was the one who brought him here, and that’s—I guess that’s what’s bothering me right now.”
“You did bring him here,” you agreed.
“I—oh.” He looked up, his eyebrows knitting together. He had expected something else. An ‘I told you that was a shit decision’ or a sarcastic ‘yeah, and thanks for that’—but your kind expression did not change. “Y-yeah. I did.”
“But we’ll get him out,” you said.
Jungkook held your hand and observed you, trying to process this while simultaneously trying to figure out what was it about him that attracted these British bees to him so much. It couldn’t be his cologne, because you loved him far more than he’d allowed himself to believe. It couldn’t be his clothes, either, because you were looking at him like you believed anything was possible in this world, and he thought it really was.
He realised that to you, he must have appeared as if he were struggling to interpret prehistoric cave wall paintings, and this process was causing him immense pain. He cleared his throat.
“You don’t blame me?” he asked.
“For making a stupid decision?” you replied, and shrugged your shoulders after he nodded. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
He pressed his lips together, his expression a mixture of incredulity and pure delight.
“Okay,” he said. “Sure.”
You were smiling again, and he was a little too proud to admit how much your loving eyes and your great mood soothed his anxiety.
“And what would I gain from punishing you?” you added. “You’ve already seen through Sid. You’ve had enough. You learned your lesson. You’re good.”
Jungkook felt his chest swell as though he’d swallowed the swarms of bees around him, and now they’ve built a cosy little home right on the hills of his heart.
“You think so?” he asked, his eyes glistening.
“Why do you look so excited?” you countered. “Do you have more dickhead friends I haven’t met yet?”
He chuckled, waving his hand around his face. “Can I answer that inside the park? I’m afraid these bees are in love with me.”
You had already noticed his struggle with the bees—it was hard not to, one was perched right on his shoulder—and you found your own apparent immunity to this new bee predicament especially entertaining.
“Want me to fight them for you?” you suggested.
“Oh, in a battle of who loves me more?” he quipped, swatting vigorously at three stubborn bees that were particularly intrigued in his eyes.
“Yeah,” you said. “We’ll all sting you at the same time, and whoever dies first, wins.”
He snorted. “These are bumblebees. They don’t die after they sting.”
“Oh, so maybe we should just stay here,” you teased. “You all seem to know quite a bit about each other already.”
He squinted at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Are you jealous I’ve grown so close to these bees?”
“Of course. They’re all over you.”
“I’d rather have you all over—”
“Public park!” you interjected hastily, cutting him off.
His laughter in response was unapologetic and infectious—you found yourself shaking your head to suppress a treacherous smile.
“Did you also research public indecency laws?” he asked, turning past the menacing, bee-infested hedge.
You followed him through the gates into the park, your fingers intertwined with his. The clouds above had thickened, and the wind had picked up, but there was nothing about this afternoon that Jungkook did not enjoy.
“Actually, I did,” you replied. “Because of that stunt you pulled in New York last year.”
Recognition flashed in his eyes for just a fleeting moment before he pursed his lips, distancing himself from the memory. A gentle breeze swept through the park, rustling leaves and carrying the scent of damp earth; it would rain soon.
“I don’t remember,” he declared.
“Really?” you responded wryly. You both knew very well that he remembered. “Nothing familiar to you about the busking that turned into half-naked dancing in the middle of the street?”
“Nope,” he said. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“There was a lot more grinding than actual dancing, now that I think about it,” you pressed on. You noticed, through your peripherals, the way he scrunched his nose and furrowed his brows, evidently despising the memory he claimed he did not have. “Someone had drawn a crown of thorns on your forehead. You had a—sort of a cloth wrapped around your waist, and nothing else. Almost everyone on the face of the earth accused you of being in a sex cult after those pictures came out.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” he insisted. “They must have confused me with someone else.”
“Sure. They must have,” you relented, pouting your lips in mock-sympathy. “There are plenty of people in sex cults out there.”
“Exactly,” he replied, finally meeting your eyes.
Something about you bringing up this incident—“incidents” were a prominent category of his actions in his mind—reminded him of the videos Sid had sent him. However, with you, the feelings in his chest were vastly different.
You were playful. Lighthearted. Your love language was teasing the hell out of him.
Sid was venomous. Arrogant. Vile. His intentions were humiliation and destruction.
You were joking about a matter for which Jungkook undoubtedly owed you another apology. He could tell that you knew he would apologise eventually, but you were hoping—with every jest, every tender smile, every affectionate bite you sent his way—that he would not plunge himself into self-loathing again.
He wouldn’t. He had matured significantly since the day under discussion. He knew he had, even if it was easy to forget.
“I’m surprised how well you remember all that, actually,” he commented. “Are you secretly into sexual rituals?”
Your scoff returned his smile to his face.
“Oh, absolutely,” you said. “I keep a picture of you from that day on my desk at home. I look at it every night before I fall asleep.”
Jungkook kicked a few dry, scattered leaves on the pavement. When he glanced back at you, his grin bordered on ridiculous.
“I am aware that you’re trying to mock me right now,” he said, “but I feel obligated to inform you that I’m taking absolutely everything you say as a compliment.”
You nodded sagely. “I would expect nothing less from you.”
“Good,” he replied. “Please tell me more about how you look at pictures of me before you fall asleep every night.”
You tsked reproachfully at his grin.
“I take back what I said about you being smart,” you said. “You are the biggest idiot I’ve met.”
“Oh,” his face was jubilant, “but that just means you love me that much more, right?”
You let out a deep sigh. “I’m afraid so.”
He felt the swarms of bees in his chest, and they were buzzing incessantly—eager, restless, and yearning. They took every emotion he felt and spread them across his skin.
“I knew it,” he said, delighted by the look on your face. You were so captivating when you were trying to resist smiling; it was why he never stopped teasing you. “This must be awful for you.”
“Mmhm. It is,” you said. “You’re like a disease.”
He nodded, attempting a formal tone. “How bad is it?”
“Chronic and untreatable, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, I am so sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, thank you.”
A deep, vibrant laughter finally erupted from his chest, and he stopped walking. Tugging on your linked hands, he drew you closer and wrapped his arms around your waist before you could say another word.
“I love you so much, you know that?” he whispered, his voice low against your neck. “It’s not even funny how much.”
He rocked gently on his feet with you in his arms, and you could not tell if the vibrations you felt came from his chest or yours.
“More than the bees love you?” you asked, your hands sliding over his shoulders.
“Much more than the bees love me.”
“Oh, must be quite a lot, then.”
“It is,” he said, chuckling hopelessly. “It really fucking is.”
He tightened his already firm grip until he felt your deep exhale against the side of his neck. He held you and his heartbeat chased after yours while the bustling crowds, the rustling leaves, and the solemn park benches whispered incomprehensibly around you, their frustration about your public affection lost on you.
When he pulled away a minute—or ten—later, he realised that his cologne had brushed off on you. There was something wildly intoxicating about you smelling exactly like him, and he needed a minute to make the park stop spinning.
“I, um—” he started to say, but his voice broke. He cleared his throat, took your hand in his to continue down the park, and tried again. “Jokes aside, I feel—I really appreciate what you do for me. What you’re doing to fix my shit right now, and what you—what you’ve always done to fix my shit. I don’t say that enough. Thank you. For taking care of Sid, too.”
You shook your head. You knew you couldn’t tackle Sid alone—probably no one could.
“This is a team effort,” you replied. “If this works, you can bake us all a cake later.”
Jungkook no longer had even half of a doubt that this would work, one way or the other. And if he’d stayed with you longer, he would have easily started to believe that Rated Riot would be elected presidents, too—one after the other.
“I’m not much of a baker,” he said.
“I’ll help,” you offered.
“Your help,” he responded, his smile turning mischievous, “usually consists of walking around, eating chocolate sprinkles, and distracting me.”
It was your turn to look offended.
“I’m the only one who remembers how many eggs the recipe needs,” you retorted, dignified. “How do I distract you?”
“How can I remember the eggs when you’re dancing and singing around me?” he countered.
He noticed the way your chin quivered as you fought to maintain a serious expression.
“Well, that’s on you,” you said. “Any skilled chef knows to keep their staff busy so they wouldn’t have time to sing and dance. Also, don’t play good songs when we’re in the kitchen.”
“Alright, we’ll bake in silence,” he decided. “And you’ll do everything while I sit and order you around.”
The corners of your lips finally curled into a smirk.
“That’s interesting,” you said, your thumb lightly brushing over his as he swayed your hands. “Switching up the dynamics.”
He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, very intrigued by the insinuation in your words. “You want me to order you around?”
“I mean…” You shrugged. “I’d like to see you try.”
He stopped walking suddenly, right in the midst of a group of senior ladies, forcing a few of them to gasp and walk around him with very exaggerated expressions of disbelief as though they’d never felt more wronged (there were a few obligatory comments about “kids these days,” too, of course).
Jungkook, undeterred, took a step to the right until he was standing in front of you.
“Kiss me,” he said.
The demand in his tone caught you off guard, but you tried to blink away your surprise. “I didn’t mean right now—”
“Kiss me,” he repeated more assertively.
You felt your stomach lighten and go for a little float inside you, like a loose helium-filled balloon.
“We are in the middle of a busy park,” you said, looking around. “We’re blocking—”
“Kiss me,” he interrupted again, his voice firm but lively, “or I won’t move.”
You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, torn between amusement and apprehension as you battled his self-assured grin, while passersby shot disapproving glances at the two of you.
“See, there’s ordering people around,” you said, “and there’s acting like a three-year-old.”
He simply shrugged, relentless. “I see no difference.”
“Do I sound like a toddler when I tell you to do things?”
“Sometimes.”
His satisfied grin only gained prominence when you scoffed and looked away, rolling your eyes.
You questioned, sometimes, how you managed to put up with him for so long. But then you also questioned, much more often, how you’d survived without him at all.
“If I were a teacher,” you said, “you’d be in detention for disrupting everyone’s day.”
“Oh! And what would I have to do?” he teased, mischief gleaming proudly in his eyes. “Write an essay on the importance of respecting authority?”
“That might do you good, actually,” you retorted. “Maybe you should consider writing it anyway.”
He shrugged his shoulders and cocked his head to the side. “Kiss me and I’ll do it.”
He looked so utterly unfazed that you did feel very compelled to lay your hands on him and do something.
He might have been one of the most exasperating people you’ve met in your life, always ready to say something cheeky no matter what you told him, always causing trouble wherever he went, never letting you breathe in peace for just one second.
You were outrageously grateful to have found him.
“People are staring at us,” you said, but there was no conviction in your voice. “We look like idiots.”
Jungkook admired your cautiousness, but he wanted you to let go of it. People would always stare; he just wanted you to kiss him.
“They’re staring because you’re defying authority,” he countered easily.
“Jungkook, just—”
“Oh, see?” he cut in, his tone triumphant. “Maybe you should be the one to write that essay.”
You groaned very demonstratively, but he saw the corners of your lips lift. Finally, you took a small step towards him and pressed your lips to his in a quick peck. He pulled you into him just as you attempted to pull away, and kissed you properly.
At last, the crowds disappeared, allowing you to dissolve in the warmth of his lips and come back to life with all the shivers that ran down your spine when he touched the back of your neck. You felt his smile and felt your own, too, when he brought his tongue over yours, deepening the kiss.
“You are insufferable,” you managed to mumble between kisses, and the affection in your voice was impossible to mistake for something else.
“I love you,” he whispered in response, each word sweet and sugary against your lips.
You kissed him once more—to soothe your racing heart—and then once more again—to soothe his—before you pulled away, whispering back, “I love you.”
Jungkook only managed half of a pleased “I—” before he felt a few soft, cold droplets land on his forehead and both of his cheeks. He raised his head.
“Is it me, or is it—”
“Yeah,” you confirmed, looking up at the angry clouds. “It’s raining.”
“Do you—should we go inside?” he asked, looking around.
There was no specific “inside” anywhere close to the two of you, but you looked at him again and spotted something at the very edge of the park behind him, right across a busy bike lane.
“There’s a little gazebo over there,” you suggested, pointing.
Jungkook turned around and seemed to have an epiphany when he noticed the crooked structure.
“In the—in the park,” he mumbled to himself, feeling a little weak in the knees. He took your hand in his again. “Let’s go.”
He led you straight into the bicycle traffic as he crossed the road, causing a commotion and undoubtedly endangering everyone’s lives—and not even realising it in his eagerness to get to the gazebo. You attempted to raise your hand in apology to the cyclists, but quickly realised that the smile on your face likely made the gesture seem mocking.
It occurred to you that you and Jungkook were being very disruptive today, very annoying, very much in everyone’s faces about your relationship. And you realised, as he pulled you past the groups of people running from the rain, that you did not actually mind this all that much. Or at all.
There was a certain beauty in the unapologetic way that people in love behaved in public—grinning at their phones, kissing at bus stops, holding hands on narrow streets barely wide enough for one person. Running across the park in the rain and stumbling into every puddle possible.
When you and Jungkook finally reached the gazebo, you were both drenched and breathless. And you realised, belatedly, that it was not a suitable shelter at all: there were no railings or benches, the roof was not only crooked, but obviously decaying, and the rain splattered you if you got too close to the edge.
But you’d been here before: caught in the rain on your way to the restaurant for your first date seven years ago, seeking refuge under a much sturdier roof of a similar gazebo in an empty park, while the vividly green trees—almost a rarity so late in September—whispered wearily from the heavy rain on their leaves.
You’d been here before, and you did not want to go anywhere else.
“I’m starting to think,” you began, “that there’s something about us that attracts rain.”
Jungkook was thinking this very thought and laughed so heartily that the rain stopped for just a second, shamed into silence by a sound far more charming than the eager pitter-patter against the roof.
“You think we could make some money out of it?” he joked, his eyes energetic. “Maybe add a little performance to it? Rain dance?”
“We might have accidentally performed one already,” you said, stepping closer to the edge of the gazebo to watch the raindrops splash against the damp ground.
“You’re right,” he agreed, taking your hand in his and guiding you to face him. “Let me see.”
He brought your hand to his chest and you watched, puzzled, as he closed his eyes and pretended to concentrate very hard on the sounds around him. People across the street screeched as they ran from the rain. A stubborn gull was screeching in the exact same way somewhere overhead.
Jungkook clutched your hand tighter and hummed. He was joking, clearly putting up a show, but you heard the faint sound of distant thunder, and the joy on his face turned luminous.
“I knew it!” he exclaimed as you laughed, and the rain, encouraged by your approval, began to pour even harder.
You watched him revel in this delightful coincidence—or an elusive sign—and allowed his radiant smile to bring back the memories that you had locked away in a box you didn’t dare touch unless you were half-asleep.
It had been raining on your first date seven years ago, but it had also been raining when he suggested that date. You’d felt invincible then, the only one staying dry in the whole world, as you nearly sprinted home from the party where he’d asked you out. You stumbled over the threshold of your dorm room, your shoes wet and slippery, and landed on your knees, shouting the news to your roommate, who was startled out of bed by your loud entrance.
This was the beginning of the happiness you’d felt almost every day since then. But this happiness came with a price: you would come to class and you could not rest, could not find it in yourself to calm down, until Jungkook arrived and took his usual seat behind you. You wouldn’t even have to look, you’d always know he had come because you’d feel a sudden sense of peace—and then you’d lock eyes with him across the room.
For years after this, even today, when you tried to find a period of your life where you’d felt the happiest, these were the moments that your mind returned to.
“What are you thinking?” Jungkook asked, brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek and bringing your focus back to the rainy moment with his touch.
“It—it’s been seven years and now we’re back in the rain,” you replied, distracted by the lingering echo of the years that have passed outside this gazebo. “Nothing’s changed.”
A faint smile danced on his lips.
“Yeah. Nothing important has,” he agreed. “I still love you.”
You met his gaze, a little thrown off. “W-what do you mean, still? That was our first date seven years ago.”
“Yeah,” he said, raising his eyebrows at the confusion on your face. “Oh, did you think I asked you out right after I saw you? No, no. I spent a whole year absolutely fucking pining after you before I finally mustered the courage to ask you out.”
You assumed he might have liked you a little, based on the way he’d introduced himself to you. But you obviously didn’t know about his alleged year-long pining that preceded your first date. And you weren’t sure if you wanted to believe him, given your own year-long pining. It made little sense for the two of you to like each other for so long and not do anything about it.
On the other hand, considering the past few years, perhaps it made perfect sense.
Your heartbeat had sped up, so you argued childishly, “no, you didn’t.”
“I did. Ask anyone,” he said, grinning. He wasn’t as embarrassed about this as he used to be—and your surprise made it easier for him to admit everything. “I never knew how to love you quietly. But it still took me ages to talk to you even with everyone’s encouragement. And that, uh—our first conversation didn’t go very well.”
“Wait—what do you mean? It went very well,” you disagreed. “I remember everything you said word for word. ‘We have Sociology together, I saw you sleeping in class, very cute by the way, the professor does not know how to shut up, have you seen that new Studio Ghibli film, I recently watched their classic with some friends, My Neighbour Jungkook, I’m Totoro by the way, I thought maybe—wait—no—’”
He interrupted you once your smile had grown dangerously wide. “Don’t you dare make fun of me.”
“I would never!” you said through laughter. “I think I knew I was in it for life the moment you said all that.”
He had to look down because the bees inside him had multiplied, spreading rapidly to his head and his lungs and his stomach, and he was a little concerned that he’d start buzzing, too.
“Not one period, nothing,” you continued, a melancholic haze in your eyes. “Just commas and an endless stream of thought. You could have asked me to bury a body, I would have said yes.”
He smiled, but everything inside of him was turning upside down, returning to normal, then turning downside up.
Every time he remembered how he approached you seven years ago, he either felt a little uncomfortable or completely mortified. He’d never thought you’d remember that day so well and with such fondness.
“By the way,” you added when he did not speak, “you did look a little like you were about to confess to accidentally murdering my roommate when you started to speak.”
This finally made him chuckle, and he felt his skin thaw from the frozen state of amazement. He remembered hoping that you’d forget all about what he’d said that day. Now he realised he had never felt more thrilled that you remembered.
“I know,” he said. “I was shaking.”
“Yeah. I, um—” you trailed off, needing another minute. “I had a crush on you, too, actually. For a long while.”
His smile faded, replaced by a look of criminal disbelief. “You did not.”
You recognised your own suspicion in his words and smiled. However, unlike Jungkook, who owned up to his stressful pining and memorable first impression, you did not feel ready to confess to your silent sulking quite as easily.
“I did,” you said. “But you turned away every time I looked at you on campus, so I thought, oh, okay. That guy hates me for some reason. Nevermind.”
“I didn—I never—”
“I actually made a playlist before we met,” you added quickly before you could change your mind. “And I, uh, kept updating it throughout our relationship.”
You did not look at him when you said this, so you missed the befuddled look on his face.
“A pl—you made a playlist?” he repeated, his thoughts momentarily derailed. He couldn’t even hear the rain anymore. “And you never told me?”
“And I will continue to act like you don’t know about it,” you said.
He was too ecstatic to care. He hadn’t dared to imagine that he would have such a strong presence in your thoughts that you would create a playlist about him—for him? (he thought he might faint)—before you even met.
“No, b-but I’m supposed to be the one making grand gestures in our relationship, and you have a playlist about me? Ab-about us?” he questioned, almost frantic. “Is it—well, what songs are in it? About our relationship?”
You tried to put your words together, your slow, calculated breaths a stark contrast against his passionate energy. Another clap of thunder, unusually intense, rumbled in the sky.
“Sort of,” you finally answered. You thought that a playlist did not come anywhere close to everything he’d done and attempted to do for you, but you still struggled to articulate yourself. “Or songs that we both liked. Songs that we listened to together. Songs that we discovered on roadtrips—just, uh, stuff like that.”
He shook his head, every part of his skin itching with an unfathomable urge to hear these songs.
“You have to let me listen to it,” he stated.
“No,” you said, giving a determined shake of your head. “It’s enough that you know it exists.”
“I will absolutely never shut up about this,” he retorted, gesturing with his hands to emphasise his commitment to being annoying, “and I might end up telling more people.”
“I will kill you if I have to,” you warned.
“So I will haunt you, then,” he returned. “Is it on Spotify?”
You narrowed your eyes. “It’s private.”
“I am not above pulling a Sid and stealing your phone,” he said, resolute.
You snorted despite yourself.
“Okay. Fine,” you said. “Maybe I’ll give you the link after.”
Jungkook waited for further clarification, but you decided you’d said enough.
He was confused. He no longer had any clear delineations of time in his life—ever since he found you again, his whole life had shifted to “after.”
“After—after Sid?” he asked.
“After everything,” you replied, unintentionally ominous as your gaze wandered to the fragmented reflections of the clouds on the rain-soaked pavement. “After we leave London. After we deal with the label. After it stops fucking raining every time we go out together.”
Jungkook thought he could already see these things: the Parisian streets after you’ve left Sid in London, the peace after you’ve told the label about your relationship, the sun in the sky after the rain lost its courage to threaten you again.
“Okay,” he relented, his features softening. “I’ll hold you to it.”
Your lips curved into a gentle smile. “I know you will.”
He hummed, stepping on a loose floorboard with the edge of his boot.
“Now, then,” he said, “tell me about this crush you supposedly had on me.”
“It was a crush,” you insisted, your voice growing more fervent right away.
Jungkook smiled but tried to remain collected. He had decided it was better for his sanity not to believe you.
“I liked you ever since I saw you at that first freshman party,” you continued and he realised that he was absolutely, without a doubt not collected at all. “I spent that entire night scrolling through the list of people invited to this event on Facebook until I found your profile. But I didn’t dare to send you a friend request, because—well, you know. We hadn’t talked or anything. I thought maybe you’re not interested.”
He thought his heart might stop because this freshman event was where he first saw you—and for every waking and sleeping moment since then, he had been interested.
“I noticed you around campus after that,” you continued. “And I would have talked to you first, I think. If you hadn’t looked like you dreamed of my violent death every time you met my eye.”
He groaned, rubbing his eyes with the pillows of his palms.
“Well, obviously, I liked you too much to look at you and not glare,” he said, even though none of that was obvious. “I actually thought I developed some sort of an allergy right when I first saw you.”
You raised your eyebrows. “An allergy?”
“Yeah. Shortness of breath, just feeling hot all over, sweating profusely,” he elaborated, moving his hands away from his face to reveal his faint, nostalgic smile. “That had never happened to me before. It was either the dust in the room or you. And there wasn’t a lot of dust.”
You pursed your lips before your cheeks could stretch any further.
“I don’t know,” you teased, “they don’t clean the building that well.”
“It was you,” he stated firmly. “Got my breath catching in my throat. Gave me butterflies, made my heart race—made me feel all the things that people write embarrassing bubblegum pop songs about.”
You looked down to collect yourself before all the signals that your heart was sending to your brain could reflect on your face.
“Catchy songs, though,” you murmured.
“Catchy, sure,” he agreed, his tone wistful. “Until all those things they sing about happen to you, and you feel like you’re drowning.”
You felt a little like you might drown just now as your heart pounded in your chest, angry at you for another wasted year.
“I’m really happy we finally ended up together,” he said. “Seven years ago, and today.”
You finally looked up at him and remembered all the times when you used to worry that you had already lived through your happiest moments, and any little joy you’d come across later would pale in comparison. You knew better now.
Jungkook was your happiest moment, and he was right here. He’d always been right here.
“I love you,” you said, a little suffocated by the overwhelming warmth in your chest. “I’ve loved you every day for all these years.”
He was smiling so widely that his lip ring dug into his stretched lips. He reached out to caress your cheek, resting his palm on the side of your face for a moment, his eyes bright and glittering.
He kissed you slowly, his bottom lip lingering between your lips while the rain washed the noise of the city away. He tasted love and longing on your tongue, and he had never in his life wished for the sunshine to stay away longer.
The rain listened. It had become a fundamental part of your present and a prophet of your future: the two of you were going to spend the rest of your lives listening to the rain and falling in love.
Since Rated Riot had a day off and the other members let you know where they were by bickering continuously in the groupchat, you and Jungkook locked yourselves in his hotel room when you returned.
You changed into dry clothes first, and then noticed that Sid still hadn’t replied to your text. In case he really hadn’t received it, you sent another one—with just question marks—hoping that he’d interpret your repeated messages as a sign of your desperation to talk to him.
You put your phone away and climbed back into bed. The sun had already set outside the window, casting faint, elongated shadows around you in the room. You and Jungkook listened to the music playing on his phone and returned to the snacks he had bought for your film night a few days earlier.
As the song switched to the latest Bad Omens collaboration, you closed your eyes to nod along, and he reached over to snatch a chocolate-covered cherry bonbon from you, causing a spark of static electricity to pass between you.
“Sorry,” he said, chuckling after he heard you gasp. “It’s from the bees, I think. They must have somehow electrified me.”
“Yeah, that’s definitely something that bees can do,” you played along, sitting up on the bed and unwrapping another candy for him. “Maybe you should take an ice bath to avoid these after-effects.”
He accepted the candy with a grin. “No. I like shocking you when I touch you.”
To be fair, he didn’t need bees or electricity for that—but you decided not to point that out.
You realised how much peace you felt here: listening to music and eating sweets with him across the bed from you. You didn’t think there was anything you still needed in life. Watching him close his eyes as the chocolate melted on his tongue, and hearing him hum with childlike delight as he swallowed, filled an emptiness inside of you that nothing—no trips abroad, no late-night drinks, no shopping sessions—could have filled.
This random moment in his hotel room was nothing at all, yet it was everything.
Suddenly, your phone buzzed, startling you both.
“Sid?” Jungkook asked eagerly, letting the remaining chocolate melt slowly on his fingers while you reached for your phone.
“No,” you replied, checking the screen. “It’s Maggie. She just posted the backstage pictures with our list.”
His expression tightened. “Oh.”
“There’s nothing from Sid,” you added.
Jungkook finally popped the rest of the candy into his mouth. He decided—quite abruptly—that he’s had enough discussions about Sid and everything you’ve been through because of him.
“You know what we should do?” he asked, licking the remnants of the chocolate off his fingers. “We should go to the sea after the tour ends.”
“Oh—we—yeah?” you asked, stumbling over your words. You thought it was very unfair of him to ask you this while running his tongue over his fingers all in the same breath. “We—but we don’t know when that’ll be.”
“Whenever,” he said with a shrug. “Let’s go.”
It took you half of a second to say “okay,” and he didn’t think he’d ever learn how to stop his heart from soaring every time your agreement came so quickly, so easily.
To be honest, you didn’t know why he even asked. It was fairly clear that there weren’t many instances where you would have refused him.
However, your response still painted his features with every warm hue in existence, and he settled back on the bed, resting his head on the pillows and closing his eyes. As you watched him, you were forced to acknowledge one more time that witnessing him like this should have required an admission ticket—and a sign reading, “do not touch the exhibit.”
“I feel like I have everything,” he said, unknowingly echoing every sentiment you felt. “I don’t even care if Sid replies to you and if our plan works.”
You leaned against the pillows on the other side of the bed and turned to your side to face him. “Yeah?”
“Mmhmm,” he replied, a melodious hum in his tone. He opened his eyes to meet yours and placed his hand on the pillow beneath his head. “We’re—you’re here with me. The tour is going well, it’s—that’s it. That’s my whole dream.”
He looked beautiful in an almost devastating way. He looked like every extravagant adjective that sounded made-up when you encountered it in writing for the first time: transfixing. Beguiling. Effulgent. Pulchritudinous.
You really wanted to touch the exhibit.
“Do you know how we formed Rated Riot?” he asked suddenly, distracting you.
You raised your eyebrows, then turned your gaze away. Jungkook realised you probably didn’t understand where his question had come from, but you didn’t ask him anything, so he did not explain.
Truthfully, you did not know the complete story behind how Rated Riot got together. You only knew what each of the boys was doing when they first met.
“I don’t know much,” you admitted. “I know that Hoseok kicked things off.”
“Yeah.” Jungkook nodded, then stopped. “Or maybe Namjoon, actually? Because Namjoon saw Hoseok at some gig that he went to. When he asked about his band, Hoseok gave him, like, fifteen business cards. But even though he filled in for all these bands, it was still only maybe one gig per week. That’s nothing. So, Namjoon told him he’s too talented for that shit. He said he needed his own band.”
You recalled Yoongi mentioning that Namjoon was the first producer that Rated Riot have worked with, but you hadn’t realised this was before the band was even formed.
Suddenly, the broken air conditioner in the room whirred back to life, interrupting your thoughts.
“S-so, they started talking,” Jungkook said, momentarily distracted by the loud noise. “Hoseok wanted to be independent, and Namjoon didn’t push him to sign with Jett Records back then. He helped him. Unofficially, I guess. They found Taehyung very randomly at this one after-party for somebody at our label—well, our future label. Namjoon took Hoseok there to network, and Taehyung just happened to be there. No one knows why, but you know Taehyung. He’s always going to be right where he needs to be.”
“Yeah,” you said, nodding knowingly. Taehyung always seemed to find his way to the people and places meant for him.
“Yeah, so he was at that party,” Jungkook continued, “and he overheard Namjoon and Hoseok discussing the plan for Hoseok’s band. They were saying that they needed a bassist first. And Taehyung just chimed in like, “I play bass.” Just out of the blue. Namjoon asked him who he was, and he introduced himself. Namjoon then asked what he was doing here, and Taehyung said, “I’ll tell you if you let me join the band”—which he never did, by the way. We still don’t know what he was doing at that party.”
You chuckled softly. Knowing Taehyung, nothing in this story surprised you, but you were still impressed by how quickly his energy captivated Hoseok and Namjoon.
“So, they let him join?” you asked.
“Namjoon claims he auditioned for them first,” Jungkook said, clicking his lips questioningly. “But one time when Hoseok was very drunk, he admitted that he’d felt desperate. Namjoon was busy and couldn’t help him much, so Hoseok had to figure things out on his own. He said he called and invited Taehyung to join right away. He thought they could find a proper bassist later, and Taehyung could fill the spot for the time being. Funny.”
“Oh,” you said. “Because he hadn’t heard him play yet?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “He hadn’t seen Taehyung even holding a bass before. So, he had doubts. I guess I get that. Anyway. He invited Namjoon to their first rehearsal and Taehyung blew Namjoon the fuck away. That’s it. Hoseok said that after that, he was worried Namjoon would sign Taehyung and leave him behind. Not that Namjoon would do that, but uh—yeah. Taehyung was that good.”
“They’re both that good,” you said. “Hoseok never acknowledges his own talent.”
“Right?” he nodded eagerly, turning to his side to look at you. There was a warm smile on your lips that Jungkook really enjoyed. “They’re both amazing.”
“So, how do you come into the picture?” you asked.
He took a breath before answering.
“I saw Hoseok and Taehyung playing at this dive bar that Sid dragged me to,” he said.
Your eyebrows arched in surprise. “No shit?”
“Yeah,” he said, running his tongue over his lips. “He said I was annoying and mopey, so he kept taking me to a new place every night. There were hardly any people at this bar that night. Taehyung was singing, but he sang, like, one verse, and then they launched into the longest instrumental break I’ve ever fucking heard. And it was incredible. Shit, I—I’m more into vocal music. But seeing Hoseok and Taehyung play together—there was another guitarist with them, actually, I don’t even know who it was—anyway. It made me realise how powerful instrumental music can be on its own.”
A dreamy fog had descended upon his face, and only now did you realise that the air conditioner had stopped working again, seemingly calling it a day. You appreciated the silence and the way Jungkook looked when he played back the memories in his head, his eyes shimmering with the bright lights and the sounds of the bar that night.
“I didn’t know that Sid met the other members before you joined the band,” you said.
“Oh, yeah,” he replied. “He also said he could be a better bassist than ‘that guy.’”
“He—of course,” you groaned. “Wait until Luna hears this. She’ll take care of Sid for us on Taehyung’s behalf, I think.”
He nodded, snickering. “I bet. But Sid actually left the bar before they finished their set. I stayed back. After they wrapped up, I went up to Hoseok at the bar and told him how much I enjoyed their performance. Told him I was thinking of picking up drums—”
He paused abruptly, noticing your surprise before you remembered him mentioning this to you.
“Oh, was this when you and Sid were planning to start your own band?” you asked. You had assumed they were joking.
“Yeah,” he replied, snickering. He had been joking, but he still found drummers to be effortlessly cool. “So, Hoseok delivered the longest fucking speech about what his job was like. Don’t ask him about it, by the way, or you’ll have to sit through three hours of him making drum sounds. But anyway, I was pretty drunk by then, and I don’t know, I guess I hummed along to some song that was playing or something.”
You nodded. Jungkook was almost always humming something.
“Then Hoseok said they needed a vocalist for their band,” he continued, “because Taehyung didn’t want to do it. And he noticed me humming, so he jokingly asked if I happened to sing. I said sometimes, nothing serious. Everybody sings sometimes. He told me to sing something for him. I told him to get fucked, we’re in a bar.” Jungkook had to pause here to let you finish laughing. “And Hoseok just shrugged, like, “no one’s at the mic, why not?””
“That did it for you?” you asked.
He nodded. “That fucking did it for me.”
You laughed again, knowing that he would never shy away from anything that resembled a challenge.
“What did you sing?” you asked.
Jungkook gave you a look. There was only one song that always lingered at the back of his mind. You could have guessed it, really, but you were a little frightened about its significance in this context.
“You—you sang Biffy Clyro?” Your throat was dry all of a sudden and useless questions continued to pour out of your dumbfounded chest. “At that bar? In front of Hoseok? “M-Many of Horror?””
“Of course,” Jungkook said, as if there had never been any other song he could have chosen to perform that night, besides the one that followed you and him throughout your relationship. “It—it really fucked with me, though. We had just broken up maybe a month ago, so it was still fresh, you know? And this was my first time singing “Many of Horror” in public, on top of that. And I was—I didn’t do well. I think I missed half the lyrics in the last chorus because it was too much.”
He snickered lightly, trying to lessen the impact of his words. You felt frozen.
“I-I was standing there,” he continued, and you could almost see it, “hiccuping to the I still believe, it’s you and me ‘til the end of time, while Hoseok just watched me, expressionless. And then I drank half the bar right after I got off stage.”
He sang the two lines of the song as he shared the story, his voice quiet and tender, and you thought you must have resembled Hoseok right now—so lost in all the emotions brewing inside you that you did not immediately realise he had stopped speaking, and it might have been appropriate for you to reply.
“Y-you still sounded great, though,” you managed. “Obviously.”
“Yeah, maybe four people clapped. Out of the ten or so at the bar,” he said, chuckling. “Hoseok told me he had to make a call, told me to stay right where I was, and then he disappeared. He returned twenty minutes later with some dishevelled guy in a turtleneck with a little hole in the collar.”
You recognised the description. “Namjoon?”
“Namjoon,” Jungkook confirmed, the smile on his face matching the one hesitantly spreading on yours. “I was fucking wasted. They were saying I had to meet with them for rehearsals, they wanted to see how I’d sound with them. And I’m—I couldn’t fucking think straight. They were telling me they wanted me to join the band, and all I could think about was that you weren’t here.”
The excitement in your eyes quickly turned into pain as a sharp twinge of longing pierced through your chest. It cut into every open crevice of your heart, reminding you of the way it had bled in those first few months after you broke up—even on this particular day, while Jungkook was struggling to get himself together in the face of his future, and you were likely at home, tossing and turning in your bed because you did not know what to do with yourself.
“I wanted to tell you so badly,” Jungkook admitted, his eyes fixed on the bedsheets, his voice filled with incorrigible regret. “But we weren’t talking anymore. I thought—there was this one moment where I thought, well, what’s the point? What’s the use of joining this band if I can’t even tell you about it? A-and they weren’t even a full group when I met them anyway. It took about two more weeks for Yoongi to join.”
You made a conscious effort to swallow the lump in your throat, and shifted your focus to Yoongi to allow for the sudden ache in your chest to subside.
“Yeah, uh—Yoongi mentioned that he was the last to join,” you commented, hoping to steer the conversation back to a less emotionally charged topic. “He used to play for a different band before, right?”
“Yeah. Somnia,” Jungkook said. The name did not sound familiar to you. “They weren’t—um, going anywhere. That’s a very blunt way to put it, but they were just stuck. And Yoongi and Namjoon go way back. So, Namjoon called him one day and lied that he was producing for this new, promising band in need of a permanent guitarist. Said they had a solid rhythm section, but their artistic direction needed some refinement.”
“And, uh,” your voice was a little lighter, “I assume they had a great vocalist, too?”
Jungkook smiled. “They did, yeah. I was trying to be modest, but you brought it up.”
You snickered, offering a nonchalant shrug. “Just trying to help you out.”
“Thanks,” he replied. “Yeah. So, Yoongi was the last one to join. He’d—he has a lot more creative freedom with us than he had with Somnia, which still isn’t a lot. But it’s something. And I think that was the main reason why he left them.”
“And they were okay with him leaving?” you asked.
Jungkook turned on his back and sighed.
“I assume they weren’t,” he said, briefly glancing at the ceiling before turning to look at you. “That’s why he doesn’t talk much about it.”
“Ah.” You nodded. “Makes sense.”
“Yeah, but anyway, Yoongi joined and we were complete,” Jungkook continued. “We released “Haunting” independently. That—okay, that was in June. Some time after that, this radio DJ that Yoongi knew played our song on his radio show as a birthday gift to Yoongi. Namjoon and Christian Jett—”
“CJ, apparently,” you cut in.
“Right. CJ,” he repeated. “They heard the song at some event. Apparently, CJ loved it, so Namjoon told him about us. When CJ found out we weren’t signed to a label, he reached out to us. It took Taehyung and me three days to convince Yoongi and Hoseok to go to that meeting. They both had some shitty experiences with record labels in the past. But we persuaded them to at least show up. CJ had us perform “Haunting” and “Cursed” for him, the only songs we had released at the time, and he signed us on the spot. Well, after Yoongi finished negotiating with him about our contracts.”
Your heart started to race as if you had just realised how much the universe had to align, how many intricate coincidences had to happen to lead Jungkook to his band, and to bring the two of you to this moment in his hotel room.
“We started working on our album,” he went on, “and about four months later—in July, right?—the record started to finally come together. That’s when CJ started to look for a manager for us.”
You took a breath and finished for him, “and reached out to me.”
“Yeah,” he said. “All CJ told us was that he found someone. He mentioned that this person was already working under the label and that the band they managed had recently broken up.”
You did not interrupt the silence that followed, because you thought that Jungkook had paused for a few seconds. But he stopped speaking altogether, waiting for you to share your perspective.
“I-I was, uh, Nick’s assistant at the time,” you said, realising what the silence was for. “We were working with The Jungle Will Get You.” You turned to Jungkook and he shook his head. “Yeah, they were—they weren’t popular. And the members weren’t really motivated, especially towards the end. They split up, eventually. Nick moved on to manage Reconnaissance, and I took on administrative tasks for various bands under the label. It was only for a few months, but I thought I’d end up buried in endless piles of papers. So, when HR called me in to tell me about Rated Riot, I pretended to know exactly who you were to get that job.”
He was smiling next to you on the bed, lost in the memories that did not hurt anymore now that he shared them with you.
“I doubt even HR knew who we were,” he said, gazing up at the ceiling and clasping his hands on his stomach. “I’m just—I’m constantly—I don’t know. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that it was you that they chose for us. I mean, you’re amazing, you could have worked with any band out there. But they picked you for us.”
You grappled with the same impossible coincidence.
“I’m thinking about that, too,” you said. “You had so much potential and CJ... I wasn’t sure if he even saw it when he reached out to me. Not to mention, you and I were—we were broken up for two years at that point?”
“A year and seven months,” Jungkook replied.
“Right,” you said, slightly out of breath from the precision of his answer.
He turned to face you. “Did you ever consider turning down that offer to work with us after you found out I’m in the band?”
You exhaled what little oxygen you had left in your lungs. You’d considered many things when you saw him again that day, and you realised now that you still hadn’t fully grasped all the thoughts that had passed through your mind at the time.
“For maybe half a second,” you said. “I was very confident that we could move on from our relationship.”
He grinned. “Look how well that worked out for us.”
“Mhmm, right?” you agreed, meeting his gaze. “So professional.”
He chuckled, intoxicated by your proximity and the peace he found in the knowledge that the universe had put in a good effort to lead you two here.
“I know that—well, it seems like everything just fell into place to get all of you together for Rated Riot,” you said. “But it wasn’t that easy for you guys, was it?”
“Yeah, no, it definitely wasn’t,” he agreed. “After Yoongi joined, we struggled to write one fucking original song for months. We thought the band was going nowhere.”
You could see the sadness in his eyes. “It was that bad?”
“Yeah. Everything we tried to work on was shit,” he said. “We were getting drunk every night, trying to find something that could work as our first song. And nothing worked.”
“So, what happened?” you asked.
“You,” he answered simply.
Your brows creased. “How—what do you mean?”
“Namjoon pushed us to release something authentic for our debut single,” he began. “And the other guys decided to kick my ass and force me to work. They knew I was writing something, but it—it wasn’t anything serious. Not like what they write. You know I can’t just create shit on the spot. My lyrics have to be about something that I’ve been through. And you’re—you are every single meaningful experience that I have had in my life. The guys—they wanted to use that. So, you’re sort of the main reason why Rated Riot are where they are”
You exhaled slowly, your mind filled with thoughts just like it had been the first time you walked into Rated Riot’s meeting room and saw Jungkook there—looking only slightly different from the music video Luna had shown you before, and remarkably different from your memories.
“And that—this is why I brought this up now,” he said. “It’s all because of you. We broke up, and Sid dragged me to that bar to help me get over you. I sang our song to Hoseok, and he brought Namjoon to convince me to join the band. I wrote “Haunting” about you, and CJ heard it and decided to sign us. We put out several albums, filled with songs I’ve ever written for you, and now we’re on this tour. If it weren’t for you, I just—w-we wouldn’t be here.”
You felt your skin prickle, the sensation quickly turning to a painful sting, and you looked away. Frankly, you did not believe that your influence was this significant—not even after Jungkook had told you that it was. These events seemed like an unbelievable sequence of coincidences that he decided to treat as signs, and you found that you couldn’t breathe if you looked at them as signs, too.
You felt his eyes on you and only meant to glance at him very briefly, but he held your gaze for a few moments longer, watching as a shuddering breath passed your lips. Then he propped himself up on his elbows.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he declared, the look in his eyes so final, so determined that you were almost afraid to move when you met his gaze. “And then I’m not letting you go. I don’t care if Sid texts.”
Your voice was very small. “I don’t care, either.”
“Fuck,” was more of an echo than a real whisper as his lips finally collided with yours. The kiss was deep and vehement and full of everything that had built up inside you over this day alone.
But then his tongue met yours and you realised that this day wasn’t all that special. You could have kissed him at any point of any day, and you would have still felt overwhelmed and aching, and you would have needed him right at the tips of your fingers as much as ever.
He tasted like the chocolate-covered cherry bonbons that he’d bought you because they reminded him of the summer nights you’d spent together. He tasted like the sticky homemade candy that the two of you baked when there were no other sweets in your dorm room and you craved something, but refused to leave, refused to pull away. Like the moments on the balcony of his house after you snuck away from his cousins. Like the rainy walks to class when your hair would be sticking to your face, but you couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop looking at each other.
All the thoughts that had been screaming at you for the past fifteen minutes suddenly quieted down as he leaned closer until he was hovering over you, one of his hands on the side of your face.
He felt shivers on the back of his neck when your tentative fingers found their way to his hair. He exhaled softly against your mouth and stilled momentarily when he heard your quiet whimper in response to his kiss, to his breathing, to him.
The room suddenly spun completely out of control around him.
He needed you so much and for such a long time that every time you were with him, every time you kissed him, he worried that he was dreaming again. So he kissed you harder, held onto you tighter—not wanting to find out if he was asleep, not wanting to wake up.
He unbuttoned your denim jacket without pulling away and slid it off your arms, holding the side of your neck with one of his hands. His kiss was so deep, so riveting that you felt your lungs give up, felt them pack up and leave, forcing you to breathe him instead.
His hands caressed your shoulders, finding the straps of your shirt and sliding them down your arms—and then stopping abruptly when he realised that you weren’t wearing anything underneath.
Exhaling shakily, he pulled back—lightheaded and winded and completely obsessed with you—just to look at you for a minute. There was a playful grin on his lips when he kissed you again.
You pulled away enough to ask, “what?”
“Nothing,” he murmured in-between kisses, “you’re fucking perfect. But I want this off.”
He pulled you closer and you instinctively bucked your hips off the bed, causing a momentary hitch in his breath. He lifted the hem of your shirt, pulling the material up and tracing the invisible symbols on your skin along your ribs, your chest, and your arms. Tossing your shirt aside without looking, he leaned back in, yearning for the feel of your lips on his again and accepting that he could not last one minute without you. Perhaps not even one second.
He felt your hand on his chest, trailing down to the edge of his black t-shirt and distracting him from the kiss with the softness of your touch. You lifted his shirt up to his chest—as far as it would go without breaking the kiss—and felt him hiss at the cold sensation of your bare fingertips on his stomach.
“I’m sorr—” you began, but the second you pulled away to apologise, he leaned in to capture your lips in another kiss.
“No.” His whispers were frenzied against your lips. You could have electrocuted him with your touch, sliced him into pieces with your fingers, and he would have thanked you for it. “No. You—d-don’t apologise. You’re perfect.”
He heard the way you cursed under your breath—under his breath, too—and he found it hard to inhale against the pressure in his stomach, against the tightness in his jeans. He was humming with near desperation when you pulled him closer, running your hands over his arms, your touch gentle enough to truly kill him.
He was frantic, eager to touch you, to feel your arms, your thighs, your chest, your neck—all of you—before someone interrupted you. Before his time with you ended. He knew he had the rest of his life to spend with you, but now he worried it still wouldn’t be enough.
His tongue moved over yours, his kiss deep, rushing, dizzying. He did not need to look to find the button on your pants, unclasp it, and slide the rough material down your thighs, swallowing a moan when he felt you shivering under his touch.
He quickly pulled his own shirt over his head and tossed it aside before kissing you again, high on the sound of your lips smacking against each other. He shuddered when your hands unexpectedly met his on the belt of his jeans.
“Let me do it,” you asked in a whisper—but he was wholeheartedly yours at that moment, and you didn’t even have to ask.
“Okay,” he complied, allowing you to gently push him back onto the bed.
Closing his eyes, he savoured the newfound sweetness from your kiss on his tongue. He felt you shuffle closer to him on the bed and had to take a sharp breath when one of your hands slid down his abdomen to his jeans.
You leaned over to kiss him again, and he broke—only capable of lying idly for so long—reaching for you and caressing your shoulders and your arms. He made it almost impossible for you to keep doing what you were doing; unruly wildfires blazed everywhere he touched you.
Jungkook was determined not to break the kiss even as you undid his belt and unzipped his jeans. He thought he did well. But then he lifted his hips off the bed to help you pull his jeans off and you brushed your fingers over the bulge in his boxers—your touch featherlight against the material—and he was very nearly finished.
He whimpered lightly into the kiss, his breaths growing heavier, his hands growing greedier. You made sure to hold one of his hands in yours to prevent him from flipping you over on the bed, and he responded to that by cheating: he held onto you tighter and attempted to pull you closer every time he gently bit your bottom lip and you got distracted by the pleasant sting.
Finally, you managed to slide his boxers down his thighs, catching each of his heavy breaths on your tongue. You pulled back, and he was about to protest until he saw you throw one of your legs over his, straddling his hips.
He watched you slide your panties down your legs while hovering over his thighs and he wasn’t sure how long ago he’d stopped blinking. Mesmerised by the sight, he didn’t immediately rush to assist you in maintaining your balance as you lifted one knee off the bed.
Once he recovered enough to remember to inhale, he sat up and pulled you flush to his chest. You gasped in surprise when he hooked his fingers behind the waistband of your panties and slid them down your legs faster.
“I said let me do it,” you reminded him with a pout, and he kissed you instead of replying, too impatient to wait.
Your hands slipped down his chest and your hips bucked into his just barely, but he exhaled deeply, breaking the kiss. You used the moment while he was dazed to push him back into the pillows.
He fell back on the bed, knowing very well that he’d been in this position before—with you on top of him, your fingers tracing over his length before finally wrapping around the base—but he still shivered, throwing his head back into the pillows. He still kept his eyes fixed on your face when you started to move your hand in gentle strokes, killing him a little more with each movement of your wrist.
“Fuck,” he sighed. “At least let—l-let me touch you.”
He phrased it like a request, but he did not mean it like one. You didn’t resist when he reached for you, his hands travelling over your thighs, lingering on your lower back, squeezing your ass, and pulling your hips into his.
One of your hands had come to rest on his chest for support while you continued to stroke his length in deliberately slow, languid motions. You could feel him getting harder under your touch, and you closed your eyes, your teeth sinking into your lip.
He could not look away from you. He wanted to be the one to bite your lips, but he couldn’t move close enough to you with your hands on him. He settled for exploring the skin on your hips, sliding his hands up and down your thighs. Soon, you felt the tips of his fingers brush lightly over your stomach and then descend lower to slip between your folds.
He exhaled deeply through his mouth when he felt how wet you were, and that was enough for him—he would have found a way to hold you tightly against his chest even if you were across the world from him.
In a flash, he was sitting up, connecting your lips again and bringing his tongue over yours while he gathered the wetness between your folds with his thumb. Your grip on his length tightened instinctively, and Jungkook groaned, automatically applying more pressure to the sensitive bundle of nerves on your clit—just enough to have you arch your back into him.
He felt you move faster, squeezing the base and speeding up until your fingers brushed over his tip. Trying to fight back a moan, he reflexively bucked his hips into your hand while two of his fingers teased your entrance, sliding over your wet folds in a teasing, tickling motion. You broke the kiss, sighing and dropping your head on his shoulder.
He didn’t give you much time to catch your breath—you didn’t give him any of that, so he thought this was only fair—as he kissed along your jaw, gently sucking on a spot on the nape of your neck. His fingers continued stimulating your clit with a combination of light, fast circles and harder, slower strokes that he knew would make you break for him.
“F-fuck, wait,” you exhaled, grabbing his wrist to stop his movements. “I w-want you.”
“You have me, my love,” he whispered back, running his tongue over the faint mark he’d left on the sensitive skin of your neck and humming, his tone gravelly and rasp, when you hissed at the feeling. “All of me.”
You gripped his wrist tighter. “Lie back.”
He didn’t immediately obey, opting to use his only free hand—the one you couldn’t hold, because you needed both hands to stop his determined fingers from drawing you any closer to the edge—to squeeze your ass and pull your hips over his length instead.
“Lie back,” you ordered again, your words firm, but breathless. It started a raging flame in his lower stomach, but he still resisted a little more—kissing you again, sucking on your tongue, sliding his hands over your thighs, and nearly making you lose it before he finally leaned back against the pile of pillows.
Jungkook still thought he was doing fairly well, considering the burning on his skin and inside him, but watching you unwrap a condom package and slide the latex down his length—torturously slowly, it seemed to him, to really test his limits—he thought he might lose it, after all.
You felt him jerk slightly in your hand, sensitive as you rolled the condom down his length, and your deep exhale blended with his sharp inhale. He locked the sound of your breathing somewhere deep in his mind, too focused on your touch to revel in it right now, but far too inspired by the response your body had to his to forget it altogether.
He bit his lip, his eyes locked on yours as you positioned yourself over his length. He was convinced that you were teasing him on purpose when you brought his tip closer to your entrance and then paused. He could already feel the wetness of your folds on him, and the second he lifted his hands to touch you, he was forced to let them drop in utter defeat when you finally slid his tip in.
“Fuck,” he whispered, his eyes rolling back at the feeling of your tight, warm walls as you struggled to take all of him in at once, and stopped, most cruelly, halfway in.
You looked breathtaking on top of him and there wasn’t a single coherent thought in his mind, so he couldn’t offer to help you anymore, couldn’t even guide you down on his length. He could barely stay still, biting his lip and clutching the sheets so he wouldn’t ram his hips into yours.
“You’ll kill me,” he whispered in a strained voice when you lifted your hips again, sliding his length over your folds, but not slipping it back inside.
Finally, you lowered yourself on him again, taking all of him in, inch by inch, and a soft sigh escaped your lips before you could stop yourself. “O-oh.”
You had to suppress another whimper when your hips met his, the stretch of his length stinging pleasantly. He hissed at the feeling, his hands flying to your hips to keep you in place.
His touch reminded you of Amsterdam suddenly: of the way he had held you, the way he had felt after all these years.
You wanted him so much that it no longer felt like a simple wish. He felt like a necessity and you could not understand how you’d ever managed to go on with your day when he wasn’t in the room with you.
You needed a moment to adjust to him and Jungkook watched you all through it. Even though he was barely able to keep his eyes open, he took in all of your reactions as the initial sting subsided and your hips twitched against his.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “Move for me, love. Please?”
You sighed as his endearing words—and the loving lilt in his voice—lit up your stomach and made you involuntarily clench around him. He groaned, digging his fingers into your hips. You had told him to lie back, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could obey.
Finally, you began to move and he threw his head back, swallowing hard at the feeling. You rotated your hips in slow circles, allowing his entire length to delicately rub the walls inside you, and he could not remember when he’d last felt you like this. He could not remember anything outside this room, and when you rested both of your hands on his chest for balance, he seemed to forget his own name, too.
“Fuck,” was a soft, jagged breath that got caught in his throat as he watched you in the dimly lit room. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to make out your silhouette, and he squeezed your ass tighter so he wouldn’t immediately lose it at the sight.
You drew back all of a sudden, placing one hand on his chest and resting the other against the mattress, right by his arm. You pulled your bottom lip in with your teeth as you lifted your hips, then slowly lowered yourself on him again. It took you a moment to find your rhythm, and Jungkook parted his lips, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth every time your thighs met his.
You shifted your weight to your knees to increase the pace and he nearly choked on his breath when you placed your hands on his shoulders and bounced your hips against his, his length gliding against your velvety walls.
“Y-you—oh, fuck. You look s-so beautiful,” he stammered, his hands travelling from your hips to your waist, then back down again.
Love and lust burned in his darkened eyes when he looked up at you, his hair falling in messy curls around his face. His chest rose and fell underneath you, the muscles on his abdomen tightening each time you sank down on him again.
You watched him like this and you changed your mind about describing him; an adjective that would fit him had not been invented yet.
You tried to respond to his words, but he suddenly lifted his hips off the bed to meet you halfway and knocked all breath out of your lungs, forcing a soft whine to pass your lips instead as you leaned into him, losing your balance.
It was starting to get too much—how deeply he reached inside of you, how tightly he held onto you—and Jungkook noticed it right away. Squeezing your hips, he adjusted his position by bending his knees for a better angle and bouncing you on his lap very slowly once, then twice, before pulling you into his chest and thrusting into you faster.
Curses and almost desperate whines fell from your lips, matching the rhythm of his skin slapping against yours. He knew he had hit your sweet spot when he felt your nails digging into his chest, when you tightened around him, when your strained breaths got louder, when your teeth grazed his collarbone—and he growled, gripping your hips tighter and trapping you against his chest with his other arm.
“Jungkook—” you panted, barely able to speak, and the sound of his name on your lips ignited the room around him.
He grunted softly and flipped you both to your sides, pulling your back into his chest by wrapping his arms around your waist and chest, his grip firm, deliberately inescapable, but his fingers gentle as he teased your nipples. His thrusts were slower at this new angle, but now they were deep and hard. It was your increased breathing and louder, uncontrollable chants of his name that encouraged him to speed up.
“Fuck,” he exhaled. And again, louder when you clenched around him, “f-fuck.”
This position allowed him to reach even deeper inside you and the way your walls sucked him in was as blissful as it was worrisome—he wanted this to last, and he didn’t think it would. Not when he had you so close to him, inhaling the scent of your apple shampoo, peppering breathy kisses on the side of your neck, feeling the goosebumps that he brought to your skin when he caressed your nipples, and thinking he might actually explode every time your body jolted against his with each one of his thrusts.
He slid one of his hands down your navel and kept his palm right above your entrance for a distracted minute, feeling himself move in and out of you, and groaning into your shoulder before lowering his hand to your clit. You writhed against him as he rubbed on a soft, gummy spot there, bringing you dangerously close to your high.
“Fuck, Jungkook,” you whimpered, almost helplessly clutching his arm that was wrapped around your chest. “I’m—s-so close.”
“I’m here, my love,” he whispered. “Come for me.”
Anything you were going to say died on your tongue when you felt his lips on your neck again. His fingers continued to massage the soft spot between your folds and your walls clenched and pulsated around him with each thrust of his hips. White clouds gathered on the edges of your vision and a low moan passed your lips as the knot in your stomach tightened.
Jungkook felt you tremble in his arms and pulled you into his chest harder. Keeping quiet had stopped being an option for you when he pressed on your clit with the pillows of his fingers, his hips continuously drilling into you—he remembered the spot you liked, and he made sure to hit it every time. He felt you tighten again, so close to your peak, and he relished in your loud whimpers.
Pulling his lip ring in with his teeth, he held you tightly against him to maintain a steady pace, his strokes assured and calculated, to push you completely over the edge. He fell impossibly more in love with you when his name got caught in your throat with your breath.
“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he cooed as you writhed in his arms, coming down from your high. “S-so pretty—oh, fuck, my love—when you come for me.”
The anticipation of his own climax soon caused his hips to start moving with a certain frenzy, and he pulled all the way out before plunging himself into you again and fully bottoming out.
“Oh, fuck, fuck,” he grunted breathlessly, twitching inside of you.
His hips stilled completely and he cursed again, spilling himself into the condom. Groaning deeply, he drove his hips into yours instinctively, this way prolonging his pleasure and the time he spent watching you bite your lip in an attempt to stay quiet. He thought he heard you whisper a breathless I love you and he was convinced he came again just at the sound of it.
He buried his face into the crook of your neck and his voice cracked in the middle of his breathless chants, “fuck, I love you so much—I-I love you so fucking much—”
He still didn’t release his grip on you, lifting his head to kiss your neck again, while the two of you tried to recover and accepted, eventually, that you probably never truly would.
“Fuck,” he exhaled. Then, again, from the back of his throat, “fuck.”
You turned around as much as you could with his arms around you, and met his lips with your own, humming into the kiss and causing him to lose his sanity again—although, to be perfectly honest, he wasn’t sure if he’d even regained it yet.
Your bodies remained locked in an almost desperate embrace for another minute, your lips moving leisurely against each other as your breaths mingled and the room—but not your hearts—quieted down.
Unfortunately, you had to strain your neck to kiss him from this position, and Jungkook ended up having to let go of you. He pulled out carefully—the gentle contact still making you hiss from sensitivity—and helped you roll to your other side to face him.
After pressing another kiss to your lips, he grabbed a stray pillow and placed it next to your head. He touched your chin gently, prompting you to lift your head so he could slide the pillow underneath.
You smiled at the unnecessary, but very appreciated gesture. “I love you.”
His chest contemplated bursting.
“I love you,” he replied. “So much that I am not—I don’t want you to leave this room. Or my bed, actually. I want to stay with you every second of every day, and I’m okay if every court would qualify me as insane for that.”
You snickered into the pillow, your expression radiant. “I don’t think you’re insane.”
He grinned and got up to discard the condom before climbing back into bed.
“And I want to stay, too,” you added, closing your eyes.
He pressed a kiss to your cheek as he got comfortable on the bed. “Not just tonight, but always?”
“Of course,” you whispered, your voice turning lighter, “but I do have my own room.”
He settled in his spot next to you and draped an arm over your waist with a soft grunt. “Fuck if I knew why.”
He pulled back slightly to see your laughter. You didn’t seem like you were going to object or tell him that you should leave, but he still caressed your cheek, bringing his fingers over the smile lines by your lips that he had caused. His heart fought fiercely against his mind at the sight of them. He was almost ready to call Rated Riot’s next song “Smile Lines” and just sigh dreamily into the microphone for five minutes while Yoongi played gentle piano chords in the background.
“I think you should stay with me everywhere we go,” he said, leaning in to connect your lips in a deep, lingering kiss. His voice was a whisper against your mouth, “so we could do this again. And again. And again.”
You broke the kiss—and he would have been very upset about that, but you did that to laugh again, and he understandably forgot everything he was thinking of doing.
“You have a show tomorrow,” you reminded him gently, your eyes warm.
He shrugged. “So we’ll have to take a break for a few hours.”
You pressed your lips together, trying to contain your smile to an appropriate level. “Hmm.”
He rested his forehead against yours. “Sounds good?”
“You are messing with my head,” you whispered.
He grinned, pressing his lips to yours again. “I love you.”
You kissed him back but made sure to click your lips in feigned disapproval as you pulled away. “What did I just say?”
“You messed with mine first,” he countered, his quiet laughter blending with the warmth of your kiss.
He had already stolen all air from your lungs, robbed your mind of every thought you possessed before him, and kept your heart hostage—and now he was beaming like he knew very well he’d done all that. Like he wasn’t one bit sorry about ingraining himself in your life so much that it felt like you shared one soul, and it had stayed with him after you broke up: forcing him to suffer from the weight of it, while you searched for something missing inside you.
“I love you,” you said again. Your words were a whisper and they got lost on his tongue but found their way to his heart anyway.
Planting a few quick, butterfly kisses to your lips, he leaned back against the pillows, keeping his palm on the side of your face so he could rub gentle circles over your cheek with his thumb.
He loved you, and sometimes this love was all that he could think about.
Other times, however, the shadows in the room grew just a little darker.
“Sid hasn’t replied, huh?” he asked quietly, reluctantly.
You sighed, shaking your head. Your phone had been silent all night, and the more you tried to ignore the silence, the more noticeable it became.
“Should I text him?” he suggested. “To poke the bear a little.”
You frowned and felt your stomach sink—a feeling that Jungkook made even worse by pulling away from you and allowing for the brutal, cold air of the room to fill the space where his hand had been.
“What do you mean?” you asked, sitting up.
He rolled over to grab his phone from the nightstand.
You moved closer to be able to see the screen over his shoulder. You frowned the whole time, but it really did not take Jungkook more than a minute to compose a message that almost sparked an argument between the two of you.
After some relatively mild back and forth—consisting of your annoyed, “I told you I want to keep you out of this” that was followed immediately by his melodramatic, “I’m doing this because I love you”—the two of you reached a compromise.
Look, his text to Sid read. I know you’ve been texting my girlfriend. Stop. Let’s keep this shit between us.
This wasn’t the full truth. After sending you a few mocking texts after he posted that picture to his Instagram, Sid hadn’t texted you anything else. You weren’t sure if this would even provoke a response, but Jungkook was convinced. He sent the text and pulled you back onto the pillows despite your protests.
“I’m sure it’ll only be a few minutes,” he said. “Until he texts you.”
Sure enough, he did.
Just as you lied down next to Jungkook, just as he intertwined your hands, his fingers toying with yours, just as you were about to forget your phone altogether—just then, the text finally came.
Your eyes widened, but Jungkook had the decency not to gloat. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you until the beating of your heart returned to a reasonable pace. Then he let you sit up again and reach for your phone.
Sid’s message read, “eager to talk to me now?:)” and you breathed out a sigh of relief as soon as you showed the text to Jungkook.
“Alright,” you said, content. You didn’t even need to respond to him anymore, he’d already started the next step of your plan. “Now we’re good to go.”
Jungkook, smiled, nodding and extending his hand to pat the bed. You lied back down and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to feel your skin against his again. His breathing was soft on your neck and you smiled back, finally losing yourself in the calming darkness of his room and the warmth of his touch.
For one blissful minute, you focused on his breathing and traced the edges of his tattoos, and felt as though nothing bad, nothing hurtful or upsetting had ever happened to either of you.
“Will we be okay, do you think?” you asked wearily. “Tomorrow.”
He was taken aback by the question, you could tell from the way his breathing increased, but his response was quick and certain.
“We’re already okay,” he said. “Today and tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day—”
“I love you,” you interjected softly, successfully stopping him.
“Thank you,” he said. “I would have kept going.”
You grinned. “I know you would have.”
He snickered, pulling you closer until you nestled your face into his neck and rested your hands on his chest, tapping, every now and then, to the beat of his heart.
“Sleep,” he whispered. “For a few hours, at least.”
You leaned your head back enough to press a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips instead of replying.
Jungkook hummed and melted into you, easing his grip to give you some space to breathe, but still remaining attached to you like he was a part of you and you were a part of him.
He could have stayed with you like this, he thought, for the rest of his life. And for at least a hundred more lives after that.
chapter title credits: sleep token, “give”
prev ○ next (coming soon)
#jungkook x reader#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook fanfiction#jungkook x you#bts x reader#bts smut#bts reactions#bts imagines#bts scenarios#bts x you#bts fanfiction#jungkook fanfic#bts fanfic#bts fic#bts au#jungkook au#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook fanfiction#bts rockstar au#jungkook rockstar au
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141 with a gf who has been cheated on in the past and it kind of destroyed her confidence?? Like just how they would prove themselves as true and how they would go about a relationship with her. Love your writing, friend!!!! <3
141 with a (fem)partner who's been cheated on in the past
Some headcanons about things that Simon Ghost Riley, John Price, Kyle Gaz Garrick and Johnny Soap MacTavish do to reassure you after learning that your previous partner/s cheated on you.
Word count: 1k || No warnings. || Reader: FEM reader. Pronouns "you", but feminine terms used ("missus, girl, lady") [I could make a gender neutral version too if anyone would want it!]
Simon Riley, who, half joking half serious, reminds you that he’s a difficult bastard to get close to. So you don’t have to worry. I mean, look how much time it took you to make him open up and let you become part of his life. He has a hard time openly admitting how he feels about you and how he only has place for you in his heart and mind. So instead, he jokes that you’re the only person on this planet, crazy enough to approach him. Though sometimes, when you have late night conversations, he admits in a hushed voice, that as much as he enjoyed the solitary life, leaving it behind for a lifetime with you was the best decision he's ever made.
Although he prefers to avoid crowded places, he starts taking you to pubs more often to prove that he’s right about being unapproachable. It also gives you a reason to dress up all pretty, so he can shamelessly compliment you and tease you about wanting to show you off.
If someone is silly enough to walk up to you two and try chatting him up, he immediately cuts it short, not even trying to be polite – “No, we’re alright. We’re busy.” And if they’re persistent, he uses his “Lieutenant Ghost” voice on them – “You’re interrupting my date. With my girl.” He keeps his hand on you for the rest of the night.
He asks you if he should get your name tattooed on his arm and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. But he is dead serious. Have you seen his tattoos? Not to be judgemental, but… He wouldn’t mind tattooing your name on himself once he thinks you’re the one.
John Price, who relies on communication. He asks you to talk to him whenever something feels wrong – whether it’s caused by your thoughts or something he’s done. But he doesn’t just wait for you to bring the issue up either. He’s a true leader and he’s very observant. Sometimes he notices the heavy thoughts starting to cloud your mind before you can even cotton on. He’s also really good at reading between the lines. If you ever do that self-sabotaging thing, where you ask his opinion about other women on the street or on the internet, he immediately gives you a stern look and, without even looking at the lass you’re pointing at, gives you a lengthy pep talk. Why would he even need to form an opinion about another woman’s appearance, when he only cares about you?
He’s got the patience of a saint when it comes to you. He’s told you what he feels towards you and how you are the only one for him many times already. And he would repeat himself, over and over again. Until he loses his voice.
If he got approached by someone and offered a drink, while you’re hanging out in a pub, he would point towards you and say “I’m alright, but you can buy my lady a drink if you insist,” with a cocky smile on his face.
Kyle Garrick, who attacks you with “I love you”-s and compliments whenever you start doubting yourself. Literally. Won’t let you finish your self-derogatory comments, even if they’re well hidden in what you’re saying. Starts yelling ILYs from afar. Then once he gets closer, he grabs you and holds you close, repeating it against your ear until you laugh from the sensation. But he doesn’t ignore your worries. He often sits you down so that the two of you can have a conversation about your feelings, your boundaries, behaviours and things he can do to assure you of his loyalty.
He has pictures of you everywhere and he’s proud to show you off. There are polaroids of you alone and both of you together in his wallet, in his car’s sun visor, in the pocket of his uniform. You’re his phone’s wallpaper. He posts pictures of you on social media. Obviously, he does all that while making sure it won’t affect your safety. And as for him bragging about you, you probably learnt about that from Price. What you don’t know though, is that he went out of his way to introduce you to his captain in hopes of Price telling you how often he talks about you. And only you.
If someone tried to chat him up while he’s with you, he would give them the nastiest, most offended glare possible. He looks at them, at you, at them, at you… He throws a simple “Uhh, no thank you,” while he grabs your hand and pulls it to his chest, using it to ground himself. Before the person can even turn away, he’s looking at you with a “can you believe this shit” stare. He gets upset for the both of you.
Johnny MacTavish, who’s physically glued to you.While off duty, he doesn't give you much space for doubts or anxieties cuz he follows you everywhere. You’re going to run some errands? He’s coming with you. He’s going to run some errands? Can you please come with him…? One time, when you went to the toilet in the middle of the night, you found him sitting half-awake on the floor next to the bathroom door. Later, he can’t even explain why he did it. He wasn’t even fully conscious. It was pure instinct – you go, he follows.
He takes you to buy matching rings. You can take your relationship at your own pace, but others don’t have to know it. He’s more than happy to pretend to be already married to you. Especially when he’s deployed away from home. And when he comes back, he proudly shows you a tan line on his ring finger, proving he’s been wearing it the whole time.
If someone approaches him and offers him a drink, he scoffs and tells them that HIS MISSUS can buy him his drinks just fine, thank you very much. If you’re there with him, he turns to you and, before the person can walk away, he starts playfully flirting with you, saying you can take him home if you buy him a drink. If you’re for some reason not there, he immediately calls you (or at least texts you if he’s with the lads) and proudly tells you about how clever his response was.
I hope that some loose headcanons like these are alright.
Also, if this happened to you – I'm really sorry and I wish you all the best! And if anyone needs to hear it: remember, the fault is never in the person who got cheated on but the one who cheats. Screw them. You deserve to be treated kindly.
#task force 141 x reader#cod x reader#cod headcanons#mw2 x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#john price x reader#captain john price x reader#john price x you#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle garrick x you#gaz x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish x you#soap x reader#bees buzzed it
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Alpha!Natasha Romanoff x Omega!Fem!Reader
18+ only, read at your own risk
Requested by anon: Jealous Alpha Nat x Clueless Omega Reader
Semi-public sex, claiming/knotting/breeding. Please, and thanks to you, God of Lust.
AN: I accidentally made Nat beefy even though you didn’t ask for it. 🥺 I hope you don’t mind, anon! Shoutout to @mostlymarvelsstuff for helping brainstorm this one.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to spot you?” Natasha asks for what you feel is the thousandth time.
“Yes, I’ll be fine. I’ll only be using the ten-pound weights anyway,” you respond, a little annoyed at how oveprotective she can be sometimes.
“Well, I’ll be right over here if you need me.” Natasha parts with a kiss on your forehead before going over to her favorite exercise, the bench press. You weren’t much of a fan yourself, so you grab a pair of dumbbells and stand in front of the mirror.
You hear the gym door open as you’re in the middle of your set of curls, but you don’t think much of it. You can see Natasha in the reflection of the mirror, balancing a barbell with two times your weight on it and you pause to admire the impressive flexing of her arms as she brings down the bar to bounce off her chest.
“Hey, Y/N.”
You snap out of your ogling to find Sam Wilson standing behind you with a wide grin on his face.
“Huh? Oh, hi, Sam.”
“Need some help with your workout?” he asks, boldly putting his hand on your shoulder and steering you toward an empty bench.
“Um, not really.”
“Come on, I can show you some new moves. It’ll really diversify your workout.” He sounds so earnest, you don’t want to deny him the opportunity. Plus, it’s just Sam and he’s completely harmless, and you’re where Natasha can see you if anything goes south.
“Okay fine,” you relent, watching as he adjusts the bench so you can sit up and rest your back on it.
“Have you done shoulder presses before?” Sam asks as you take a seat. He stands behind you.
“Uh, these?” You bend your arms and press them up.
“Yeah! Just add some weight to it.” Sam hands you your dumbbells.
You start your first set, not struggling too much with the weight. Sam holds his hands under your triceps, following your range of motion in case you can’t complete a rep.
After you finish your first set of 12, you go into your second set, although your arms are already tired. Sam’s hands brush the undersides of your triceps more than once.
“Come on, Y/N. You got this. Push, push, push.”
“Phew,” you pant, dropping your dumbbells to the floor and shaking the ache out in your arms.
“Those are too easy,” Sam says, going over to the rack and picking up a pair of 15 pound dumbbells.
“Oh no, I stick to the tens,” you protest.
“You got this. I won’t let you drop them on your head. Besides, Romanoff would kill me if that happened.”
“Or, I can still kill you before that happens,” someone growls from behind you both.
“Nat?” You didn’t even notice her come over. The collar of her low-cut shirt is soaked in sweat and the veins in her arms look like they’re straining to escape.
“What the hell are you doing, Wilson? She didn’t want a spot,” Natasha says in a low voice that makes you tingle.
“Oh, I wasn’t spotting her, I was just showing her some new exercises,” Sam says, suddenly backing away from you on the bench.
“And you don’t think I can do that?”
“Well, uh, no...” Sam stutters. “I know you’re more than capable--”
“I’ll take it from here,” Natasha interrupts.
“Sure. I’ll...I’ll see you two around.” Sam scampers away.
“Come on, Y/N,” Natasha says, hooking her arm under yours and pulling you up.
“Oh, are you done with your workout?” It wasn’t unusual for your mate to spend upwards of two hours in the gym.
“This one,” she says, whisking you out of the gym.
“Nat, are you okay?” you ask as she drags you into the locker room. You look down at her black shorts and notice the tent forming at the center. “Oh.”
“It seems someone forgot who their alpha is,” Natasha growls, pushing you against the lockers and looming over you.
“Nat, someone can walk in--” you squeak as she removes your shorts, easily lifting you with her strong arms and pressing your back against the lockers.
“Good. So they can run out and tell everyone who’s alpha you belong to.”
“Fuck.” Her deepened voice and aggressive tone has you soaking your panties.
“Who’s your alpha?” Natasha asks, now holding you up entirely with one arm so she can pull her shorts down. Her cock is dripping with pre-cum, fully erect, the veins on it pulsing. You clench around nothing, aching to have her sheathed inside of you.
“You’re my alpha,” you respond, whining as she teases your folds with the dark tip of her cock.
“No one else’s?” she asks, almost as if she’s a little insecure that you’d leave her for someone.
“Just yours. All yours,” you insist. “Please, Nat.”
“Good.” Her arms flex as she steadies you before lowering you on her cock. You moan as she stretches you out, clawing onto her biceps and shoulders in pleasure.
“Harder, Nat,” you whimper, unable to make a sound as her thighs slap louder against yours, bouncing you on her dick.
“You are my omega,” she growls, burying her face against your neck and tracing her tongue teasingly along the mating mark she left there months ago, when she first claimed you as hers. She bore a similar one on her collarbone, in the perfect outline of your teeth, a mark she wore proudly. “Mine and only mine.”
“Yours,” you pant, clinging onto her. “Claim me again, Nat. Knot me and make me yours.”
You feel her chest vibrate as she moans at your words and you swear you can feel her cock throb harder inside of you. Natasha mumbles something in Russian, a language you never bothered to learn but loved to hear when she was so turned on she couldn’t think in English. Her thrusts come harder and you swear you’ll be bruised tomorrow. But you don’t care, tearing at her shirt so you can feel her sweaty skin against yours and take in her scent.
“Fuck, Y/N,” Natasha moans, starting to lose her rhythm. You clench harder around her, desperate to feel her hot cum spill into you. You can’t wait to carry her pups and start a family with her one day. “Do you...Do you want my knot?” she asks, knowing that if you take it, the two of you won’t be able to disconnect very easily. In fact, she’ll probably have to carry you out to your room, and who knows how many eyes will fall on you two on your way there.
“Yes, yes, please. I don’t care who sees us,” you reassure, digging your nails harder into her biceps. “Fill me with your pups, Nat.”
That does it for her, and with a final hard thrust, her knot slips into you without difficulty and you feel her cum gush into you. You sigh in satisfaction, dropping your head against her chest and pulling aside her shirt collar to expose her mating mark. You bite into it and Natasha’s body goes rigid with a moan, and she finishes cumming with a few hard pulses.
She wraps her arms around you, balancing you against her chest, as she reaches for some towels to throw over your back. You hook your legs around her waist and she pulls up her shorts as high as she can, carrying you out of the locker room, with her cock still inside of you.
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AN: These two. 😅 Absolutely insatiable.
Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰
#natasha romanoff#black widow#natasha romanoff smut#natasha romanoff imagine#beefy!nat#abo supremacy#natasha romanoff x reader
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— f1 boys reacting to their crush setting them up with someone else.
˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS
internally, he would panic; his mind would be racing with a thousand thoughts and questions. he’d act a little interested just to please you, but honestly, he’d only be half-listening to you talking about your friend because he’s too busy staring at your lips. when you’re done, he doesn’t say anything, he just stares at you. he knows he won’t be able to fully confess then and there, but it won’t be more than a few days after he decides to let you know of his feelings for you.
“so, what do you think? will you go on a date with them this weekend?”
“uhm... they seem to be nice but like... i don’t want to, y/n, there’s someone else i like.”
“oh, alright. who?”
the only reply you get is a nonchalant shrug and a very, very deep and a sweet gaze.
˒ ⌕ DANIEL RICCIARDO
he’s little slower to recognize his feelings, so this event might just be what causes him to see things clearer and realize that he likes you more than a friend. he half-reluctantly goes on the date you set up for him and your friend, and although he is polite to your friend the whole time, all he could think about is you. by the end of the night, the first thing he does is call one of his closest friends aka you.
“hey, wanna hear something crazy?... i think i like y/n, as more than a friend.. isn’t that crazy??”
˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ
although a little upset, he tries to go along with it. he remains polite but drops hints that he has someone he likes and that his crush is too much of an idiot to notice. basically, he puts up with you playing matchmaker and patiently waits until the end of the day when it’s just the two of you. you’re walking home together in silence when he casually brings up the subject.
“you know, you trying to set me up with your friend - as annoying as it is - isn’t going to make me lose my feelings for you.”
˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC
apart from feeling a little awkward, he would be really chill about it. he finds the situation amusing, letting out chuckles and barely sparing a few glances as you show him pictures of your friends on your phone, scrolling one by one. only when you get pouty, he relents and try to give the impression that he’s paying attention. and when you get to the group photos, he casually points at your smiling face in the picture.
“this one is so cute; are they available?”
˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON
he would be polite to your friend who you’re trying to set him up with, but even if he tried, his disinterest in them would be so obvious, which would only make the situation more awkward. he would honestly feel all kinds of emotions at the same time: understanding yet hurt because you put him with someone else clearly shows that you don’t feel the same. he would then be honest with you, but accidentally let a confession slip.
“i do appreciate what you’re doing, but i don’t need your help okay? i am capable of finding a date myself...i think.”
“then why haven’t you?”
“because i’m trying to move on from you first, y/n...”
˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI
this would put him in such an awkward position. he’s also frustrated because he has his own plans as to how and when he would confess but you trying to set him up with someone else would make him not want to wait any longer. a lot of nervous laughter that he tries to mask as genuine laughter;
“you know what would make this whole situation even more awkward? me confessing how much i like you and that you setting me up with your friend is kinda breaking my heart...”
“well— wait what?”
“what? no no. i mean... you know what, no. no, that is exactly what i mean.”
˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN
he’s in denial of his feelings for you, which is the only reason why he’s - hesitantly af - agreed to go on a date with your friend. this pushes him to come to terms with how he feels about you. and, reluctantly, he tries to make it clear that he only has eyes for you, so when you confront him about what happened between him and your friend, he just rolls his eyes and starts to say his ‘ideal type’
“yeah right but what’s the difference between your ideal type and my friend? c’mon max, she’s perfect for you!”
“don’t be a idiot, my ideal type is you, and only you. do you want me to draw?”
#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 fanfic#lando norris x reader#lando norris fanfic#lando norris imagine#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo fic#daniel ricciardo imagine#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz fluff#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#lewis hamilton fluff#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton imagine#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x you#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic
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A request...
Dunno if this has been done already but A self aware Azul, Trey, and Lilia reacting to the player saying they "had a bad day but seeing them made it much better".
Let me know if this is confusing and you're free to not answer of course
Self-aware au
I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!
WARNINGS: Yandere themes, obsessive behavior, unhealthy behavior, mentions of blood, mentions of war, death, bad cringe humor bc I haven't written for a while
Trey Clover/ Azul Ashengrotto/Lilia Vanrouge-"Seeing you made my day better!"
Oh, are you alright?
The second you returned to them, Trey could tell that something was wrong with you
A bad day perhaps?
If he could talk to you he would sit you down to talk about what (or who) ruined your day (whilst secretly planning their demise but pshh)
But then you suddenly stare at the screen and drop something like that at him? Whew... I-I think he is swooning
He almost forgets that you are having a horrible time before all of this until he finally sees you having a strained expression once more before going off
Oh ok. This is fine. This is totally fine. Haha... TOTALLY FINE
Like, imagine my mans expression
He feels honored that you feel and think that way about him but at the same time...
Bro over here can't really help
He tries to be as present as possible after that
(Toatally not like a cat throwing itself on your lap for attention)
In his mind, the more present he is the better you feel
(Not like peeps play games to escape reality but sure, if Trey wants to see himself as your emotional aspirin then sure)
But perhaps his attention really helped, perhaps something good just happened that got you in a good mood
So when you finally said that seeing him made your day so much better it felt like the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds after a long storm
Well, luckily he didn't need to conspire with Draconia to get you here anymore
But then again, if what you said was true then him being with you would keep you happy all the time, right?
Oh what he does for his go-I mean his uncrowned ruler
This brings back a lot of dark memories for him
And I mean that literally
His memories of these days are filled with him sitting in a dark corner of his little pot
Only with the difference that for him his ray of light was food, for you it… is whatever this is
It does surprise him though
You, the high scholar, wisest of the wise, were more human than he imagined you to be
Well, to be fair, it was easy to imagine you as that unfeeling being that hovered over all of them
Day after day did the octopus see you do whatever you came to do and then go again
Although… you always made sure to check on him whilst having that faint smile on your face
How sweet. Doesn’t make him worry any less though
Until one day you finally tell him that seeing him made your day better
Wow… how is he supposed to react to that?
His inspiration for everything he does sees him in that light
This totally won’t get to his now. Naw. I have no idea what you are talking about
Continue to tell him that. Tell him how much his presence makes you happy
And if you should look in the direction of some unfortunate NPC that unknowingly made you laugh he will see red
Interesting, his cane looks a bit red as well. The handle area should be cleaned again… why is it so sticky?
Lilia is not amused
Sleep deprived, yes, but not amused
Oh why that? Well, this father decided to pray even more to you in order to cheer you up
Now, if you know anything about Lilia in this au then you also know how religious he is, so him praying even more? Uh… perhaps he gets two hours of sleep at best
You are his god so surely you hear his words, asking you why your expression is always so sad, so exhausted
STOP SHARPENING YOUR SWORD YOU OLD BAT THERE IS NO NEED TO START A HOLY WAR IN THE OVERSEERS NAME WTF MADE YOU EVEN THINK OF THAT SOLUTION??!
Anyways, if Lilia is not in a good mood, so is entire Diasomnia. He is more or less the dorms old and wise fairy grandmother who hands out advice like lollipops so when he is not in a good mood, so is nobody else
No matter what the local group of non-violent military trained guys do, they just can’t cheer up their usually oh so happy teacher and guide
Lilia reminds the NPCs of the dorm of a certain general they read about in the history books (but there is no way that could be Lilia)
Until one day he walks in like he is in a romance anime, looking up with sparkling eyes to the altar and thanking your statue for your favor
If this was any other dorm, he would have been send to the school therapist (oh yeah, they have a shrimp instead of that)
When asked by his son what happened Lilia just looks up, still with that weird look in his eyes, tells him that “I have finally been noticed by our grace”
Malleus is telling Sebek in the meantime to call for a doctor because it seems like their general just lost his last few marbles
What really happened was Lilia heads down dangling from who knows where, perhaps the cafeteria chandelier, and asking himself what could have made you so sullen the last few days
Until suddenly you zipped in, looked at him (probably once up to his knees and then down to his head whilst saying “Mhm. Looks good.”) and were like “Seeing you made my day better.”
That was the moment when Lilia lost his grip on the metal and fell face-first, thankfully it was already late so no one was present but if I got a coin every time he fell like that I would have one, which tells us how rarely that happens
How about you go to whatever NPCs that govern the other countries and warn them that there is a high low-key mad general who would start would annihilation if you so much as feel slightly sluggish
You know those people who need to hear compliments constantly so they don't go bananas? Yeah
Whoops. Seems like you complimented the uniform of Octavinelles uniforms after seeing one of their NPCs. Wonder what happened to that guy. He isn't attending his classes anymore, that's for sure
#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere twst#yandere twisted wonderland x reader#yandere twst x reader#self aware au#twst#twst trey#twst azul#twst lilia#yandere trey x reader#yandere trey clover#trey clover x reader#yandere trey#trey x reader#twsited wonderland azul#yandere azul ashengrotto#yandere azul x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#yandere azul#azul x reader#twisted wonderland azul#twst lilia x reader#yandere lilia x reader#yandere lilia vanrouge#lilia vanrouge x reader#yandere lilia#twisted wonderland lilia#lilia x reader#tw: yandere#tw: obsessive behavior
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if you don’t mind, what are some of your favorite soft mclennon moments?
JOHN: I used to try to get George to rebel with me. I’d say to him, “Look, we don’t need these fuckin’ suits. Let’s chuck them out of the window.” My little rebellion was to have my tie loose with the top button of my shirt undone. Paul’d always come up to me and put it straight. [x]
PAUL: There’s a story that I used to straighten John’s tie before we went on stage. That seems to have become a symbol of what my attitude was supposed to have been. I’ve never straightened anyone’s tie in my life, except perhaps affectionately.
The Times Profile of Paul McCartney - 1982 [x]
“And John and Paul thought back to the time they’d been in Paris before. Flat-broke, unable to afford a taxi, without funds for a decent meal. ‘Maybe we’ll buy the Eiffel Tower this time’, said John with a grin.”
“The Beatles in Paris.” Beatles Book Monthly Magazine No. 8 (March 1964). [x]
““Okay, okay,” I said, “don’t go on, John.” I felt a surge of embarrassment because my instrument was the cause of such hilarity. “Look guys, that’s enough. What have you two been doing while we’ve been struggling to get here? I hope you’ve done some practising and got the song list sorted out?” I was getting more and more annoyed as this episode was dragging on.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry Len. Paul and I have got it all sorted out. Haven’t we Paul? Paul! Paul! I said haven’t we Paul?”
Paul McCartney looked up with a wry smile and paused. “Tonight will run just like clockwork. I am going to give the audience the best rendition of ‘Guitar Boogie’ they have ever heard this side of Garston.”
“Hey, this is a new twist,” I said. “Paul just cracked a joke. He must have a sense of humour after all, John, shall we have him in the group?”
John was enjoying the banter as ever. “Yeah, we’ll give him another try and if you don’t get it right this time, Jimmy,” Jimmy (James) was Paul’s first name, “then…” John waited to see the expression on Paul’s face. “Then we’ll,” again a pause, and by this time we were hanging on John’s next words, “then we’ll have to send him for some more guitar lessons!” Paul joined in the laughter and at that we were all back to normal.”
— Len Garry, John, Paul and Me: Before The Beatles. (1997) [x]
“One of my great memories of John is from when we were having some argument. I was disagreeing and we were calling each other names. We let it settle for a second and then he lowered his glasses and he said: “It’s only me.” And then he put his glasses back on again. To me, that was John. Those were the moments when I actually saw him without the facade, the armour, which I loved as well, like anyone else. It was a beautiful suit of armour. But it was wonderful when he let the visor down and you’d just see the John Lennon that he was frightened to reveal to the world.” [x]
“Whatever bad things John said about me, he would also slip his glasses down to the end of his nose and say, ’I love you’. That’s really what I hold on to. That’s what I believe. The rest is showing off.” [x]
“I remember being shocked one day when John started worrying about how people would remember him when he was gone. It was an incredibly vulnerable thing for him to come out with. I said to him then, ‘They’ll remember you as a fucking genius, because that’s what you are. But, you won’t give a shit because you’ll be up there, flying across the universe.’” [x]
“If John Lennon could come back for a day, how would you spend it with him?”
“In bed.”
— Paul McCartney answers questions for Q magazine, 1998. [x]
“John and I grew up like twins although he was a year and a half older than me. We grew up literally in the same bed because when we were on holiday, hitchhiking or whatever, we would share a bed. Or when we were writing songs as kids he’d be in my bedroom or I’d be in his. Or he’d be in my front parlour or I’d be in his, although his Aunt Mimi sometimes kicked us out into the vestibule!”
— September 26, 1997, “Paul McCartney - Meet The Beatle” by Steve Richards [x]
“We were recording the other night, and I just wasn’t there. Neither was Paul. We were like two robots going through the motions. We do need each other alot. When we used to get together after a month off, we used to be embarrassed about touching each other. We’d do an elaborate handshake just to hide the embarrassment… or we did mad dances. Then we got to hugging each other.”
— John Lennon, The Beatles by Hunter Davies [x]
Q: “What musician and composer do you respect most?”
Paul: “No, I don’t know, really... John Lennon!”
John: *mock-shy* “...Paul McCartney.” [x]
conversations with mccartney, paul du noyer [x]
“It was 8:30. I could hear people talking about the likelihood of a storm later on that evening. I can remember hoping that it would clear up before my cycle ride back to Wavertree. Up to now it had been an eventful day but very tiring and as a group, although committed to playing, we all wished that we could pack up and go home.
All of us apart from John Lennon. I think that meeting Paul had whetted his appetite and by the time we went on stage for our session at 8:45 he looked refreshed and seemed to have a new sparkle, as though he had had an injection of renewed optimism and enthusiasm as he played and sang through our usual repertoire that evening. […] I went outside for some air and a smoke; John and Pete decided to come with me. We stood outside pulling on our cigarettes, enjoying the breeze that had risen with the oncoming storm.
“Do you know, John,” remarked Pete as we stood outside, “I’ve never heard you sound as good as you did just then. I know you’re going to say that I’m not very musical but I could hear the difference. I can see that something’s happened to you. Even the skiffle numbers which I know you’re not that keen on sounded good. You seem to have put more effort into them.”
“Pete’s right, John. I couldn’t help noticing it as well,” I said.
John was silent for a few minutes, just enjoying his smoke.
“I guess someone took the trouble to share what he knew with me and it’s just given me a little encouragement for the future, that’s all.”
“Oh I see, you’re getting a little sentimental in your old age, aren’t you,” joked Pete, who had never seen his life-long friend in that light before.
“Don’t be thick, Pete,” replied John, who seemed almost back to his normal abrupt self. “Come on, I need a drink.””
— Len Garry, John, Paul and Me: Before The Beatles. (1997) [x]
[x]
Paul's persistence and endless patience for John while he was dealing with the death of his mother Julia:
But Paul seemed to have limitless patience for John, sneaking away from his classes to drink coffee at the Jacaranda coffeehouse, or else spend the afternoon nursing pints and punching rock ‘n’ roll songs on the jukebox at Ye Cracke pub. Certainly, Paul preferred hanging out with his friend to grinding through lectures and assignments at his schoolboy’s desk at the Liverpool Institute. But the hours they spent together held an emotional significance, too. For even if they rarely spoke about the pain of losing their mothers, the mutual feelings of loss—and the rawness of John’s wound—gave them a connection that was as vital as it was unspoken. It was, Paul said later, a “special bond for us, something of ours, a special thing.” … “We could look at each other,” Paul said, “and know.””
…
John, however, had other things on his mind. Though the fall of 1958 and well into 1959, John was far too busy engaging in art-school life—if not exactly his studies—to think much about playing in a rock ‘n’ roll band. He had started dating another student, a quiet blonde from the relatively posh Hoylake district on the Wirral, named Cynthia Powell. She proved a warm, stabilizing influence, which helped mitigate John’s ongoing grief and rage.
He had also grown particularly close to one of the school’s most promising students, a blazingly talented painter named Stuart Sutcliffe, whose emotional portraits and densely wrought abstracts had already caught the eye of the university’s instructors, along with the gallery owners, artists and critics who orbited the bohemian section that bordered the campus. John had been drawn to Stu’s talent, too, and when his classmate invited John to move into his large, if downtrodden, flat around the corner from the college in a row of once-elegant homes on Gambier Terrace, the two art students became even closer. The flat became a hub for their college friends, a reliable address for drinking bouts and all-night parties.
Nevertheless, Paul made certain not to be a stranger. He was a regular around Gambier Terrace, often toting his guitar to spur a little playing and singing, and if circumstance permitted, a bit of songwriting. John remained an eager music fan, and generally enthusiastic partner for playing and singing. But his disinterest in the band, prompted at least in part by his deepening friendship with Stu, frustrated Paul.
…
John was moving on, and not in a promising direction. George, for his part, had grown sick of waiting and joined the jazz-and-skiffle centered Les Stewart Quartet, though he made it clear to Paul he’d be back with the Quarrymen whenever they resumed playing. Paul, on the other hand, wasn’t interested in playing with anyone else. For whatever combination of emotional or visceral reasons, he couldn’t seem to imagine a musical life that didn’t include John Lennon as his primary partner.
So he persisted, dragging his guitar to Gambier Terrace, making himself a fixture amid the empty beer bottles, overflowing ashtrays, shattered Vicks inhalers, and paint-splattered clothes.
If John didn’t evince any interest in being in a band, Paul would simply wait, guitar at the ready, until he did.
— Peter Ames Carlin, Paul McCartney: A Life [x]
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hi again! I have many headcanons stored inside my brain right now, so I’ve got some headcanons for Vox right now!
May not be completely canon but I’ll try my best to get Vox as canon as possible and not OOC! (I have a lot more sir pentious hcs though if you’re willing to hear..)
Also, I apologize if my English isn’t great, or if my grammar is off, orrrr.. whatever. I natively speak Armenian, so, fun fact I guess. Sometimes I struggle with English but I hope this is good enough!
Vox; NSFW
Vox 100% only shows his submissive nature around people whom he trusts most, specifically you. He, of course, retaliates and makes smartass remarks whenever he’s subbing, but that’s to be expected from a man that’s just born to be a brat.
He battles with Valentino for dominance which, to my knowledge, is canon. I feel like it definitely takes way too long for them to decide who will be the sub because neither of them want to give up the title of the dom. But when you come along, it’s obvious who the dom will be. (Well, at least to you and Vox, since he obviously gets humiliated if everyone else knows that he likes getting fucked by you.)
He wouldn’t immediately falter. He retaliates and retaliates and retaliates. But he does eventually give into your demands and becomes a good boy.
But even if he is being a good boy, I think it would be fun to play around with him and degrade him no matter how good he’s doing. Of course throw some random praises into the mix, but I just wanna degrade him so bad. (Maybe I just like being mean to fictional men all the time. Dunno.)
Call him a slut, tell him he’s pathetic, whatever you want to say. He’ll be either 1: retaliating, or 2: whimpering and not even being able to respond since he’s probably too fucked out of his mind to do so.
But if you decide to be nice with him and praise him, he’ll just end up sobbing. Don’t know why, but he will. He’ll be sobbing while calling you mommy as you’re pegging him or riding him or whatever you wish to do.
Now, onto some more juicy stuff. I feel like he cums really fast. Especially when he’s got that boycunt. One feather light touch and he is DONE FOR. Eat him out and he will be squirting almost immediately because he just loves how your tongue feels inside of him.
ALSO, he’s definitely the smug ass type to be sending you pics whenever he’s masturbating. He probably has a smug grin when he’s sending you a picture of him playing with his pussy. Or he’ll even send videos, where he’s moaning and begging for you.
To be fair, he would still do this when he has his cock, no doubt. He would be jerking himself off while fucking himself with a dildo and begging for you. But I feel like he gets 100x more needy whenever he switches his parts out for a pussy.
It’s just a weird light switch that goes off in his brain. Like, wow, he has a pussy. Now he needs you to fuck his wet cunt until he sobs. Don’t make me explain I just know it happens somehow
When he doesn’t have his cunt however, he LOVES being pegged. In my opinion he’s a pegging enthusiast. Get the strap out and he will get so damn desperate for the dildo attached to it.
He gets super whiney when you’re using pegging as a punishment for him. You can do it really fast and rough because he’s been a brat, and make it so that he probably won’t be able to walk for the next, what, 3 days? (Overexaggeration.. but still.)
OR you could do it AGONIZINGLY slow as a punishment. Go as slow as possible while fucking into him with your plastic dick while he begs for you to speed up, but you just keep going at the slowest pace you can. He needs to get put into his place.
I feel like he would immediately get horny from hugs from behind. Don’t know why, but whenever you walk up to him from behind and put your arms around his waist while you may be whispering something to him, it feels to intimate to him and he either whimpers or try to ward you off.. although not really, since he’s just being a brat. He wants you to keep holding him forever.
He probably likes rough sex most of the time. But if he’s stressed or tired, he wants super fluffy sex where you’re taking care of him and making sure to be as soothing as possible. Gently fuck into him with your strap while he holds onto your shoulders since he’s on his back. Make him feel like he’s getting fucked into the clouds but in the most fluffiest of ways. And make sure to give him the best aftercare.
About the rough sex thing, however, BE ROUGH. He doesn’t want it TOO rough, since he’s sensitive. But fuck him into absolute oblivion until he can’t even remember his own name. Instead, the only thing clouding his mind is you, you, you. Make him cum over and over again while having no plan on stopping until he’s too overstimulated to go on.
Or you can edge him until he’s obedient enough for you. Put a cock ring on his cock and make sure he cannot cum while you thrust your strap into him. He needs consequences, he needs to get karma, for being such a brat.
Onto aftercare: GIVE HIM SOOTHING AFTERCARE. Make sure to give him plenty of cuddles and kisses from underneath the fluffiest blue (it HAS TO BE SPECIFICALLY BLUE) blanket you can find. Give him snacks and watch a movie with him. If it’s messy, then of course clean up beforehand.
But if either of you are too tired for either of those things, then he’s completely fine with cuddling you to sleep while having soft dreams of you, and only you.
Had to make sure to end a bit fluffy haha
Sorry if this is bad, or if you have already said some of these things before. Perhaps we share a braincell or perhaps I just agree with a lot of the things you say. Who knows?
i’m literally so spent and borderline delirious but this is the best thing i’ve received all day oh my god. lowkey improved my mood so much.
i won’t say much because you did literally amazing work and covered all the bases, but the idea of him with a smug smile sending videos of him fingering himself… yeah. yeah i dig it.
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That's that me espresso! — c. nakahara
synopsis. chuuya struggles to fall asleep again after thinking about you and his unexpected dreams
content. fem!reader, fluff, suggestive in one part, chuuya is lovesick and he doesn’t know it <3
notes. i don’t know if i got his character right.. i tried my best tho ! and yes this is inspired by sabrina carpenter’s song espresso hehe (*´꒳`*)
chuuya doesn’t dream.
or well he didn’t use to because tonight was the first time he had a dream in a really long time.
the fact it wasn’t a nightmare shocked him even further and out of all things he could’ve dreamed about, it was about you. why you? he isn’t sure himself. chuuya let out a silent sigh as he rubbed his face, trying to recall everything he saw because a part of him is still in disbelief that he had an actual dream.
the first thing he remembers is you wearing a summer dress while walking at the shore of a beach. the gentle waves crashing into your bare feet as you carried your flip flops in your hand. then you turned around and your face was beaming. chuuya swore you had the happiest smile he had ever seen on you. something seems to catch your attention when you look at him.
“chuuya, your hair is in your face!” you tell him with a light giggle. as soon as you mention that, he notices how his hair strands start to obscure his sight as the wind blows from behind him. you make your way towards him as if an idea popped into your mind. “wait, stay still,” you say and swiftly move behind him while chuuya couldn’t help but blink in confusion. “what?”
you don’t say anything in return but it doesn’t take him long before he realises what you’re doing as he can feel your fingers gather his hair into one place. you were making a ponytail for him.
“there! now it won’t be bothering you,” you say once you are done, looking at him in satisfaction and glee. chuuya touches his head for a moment, not used to having it like that. it indeed felt nicer. he thanked you before the two of you start walking again.
“no problem. you look really good with a ponytail too…” you mumble the last part and chuuya almost misses it. he glances at you, about to say something and he’ll never know what because that was the moment he woke up.
chuuya believes there was probably more going on in the dream but this is as far as he remembers. he casts a look to the side, scanning over the clock that reads 2:56 am. there is more than enough time to get his much needed sleep. because it is a rare occurrence for him to not be exhausted from a usual workday, he’ll take any bit of rest he can get.
with that in mind, chuuya shifts his body to the other side and closes his eyes, a soft exhale leaving his lips. it was just a silly dream and he will forget it soon enough anyway. although he still doesn’t quite understand why you were there. you were one of the closest people to him, he’ll admit that. you knew him better than most people and he has lost count at how many times you have made his day so much better. the two of you were good friends and that’s it. yeah, this is fine.
except it isn’t.
falling asleep turns out to be a much more difficult task than he anticipated. he isn’t even that tired anymore which did not help. chuuya’s mind is still stuck on his damned dream. he can’t help but picture again your radiant smile, how your hair blew in the wind, the way you stared at him and that pretty dress… he quickly shaked his head to snap out of it. he can’t believe himself. chuuya decides to get up and find something to distract himself since he couldn’t sleep now anyway.
he wished that would’ve been the one and only time he dreamed of you. this was the third time in the week that he hasn’t slept well. all of them had you in it and at this point chuuya thinks something is wrong with him. how does anyone dream about the same person so many times in such a short time?
chuuya groans into his pillow as he suspects yet another badly slept night. of course you were on his mind once more. he is glad that these aren’t nightmares but at the same time he doesn’t know how to feel about these dreams either. he’s also shocked by just how vividly he remembers all of them.
in the second dream, chuuya was at a restaurant with you. if he’s going to be honest then it felt like a date. the dimmed lights, the romantic atmosphere, a lit up candle placed on the middle of the table and two glasses filled halfway with red wine. he still remembers the simple yet elegant carmine dress you were wearing. your gaze was filled with so much warmth and adoration that he felt his heart falter. then you laughed at something he said and god your laughter seemed sweeter than the desserts the two of you were having.
the entire time his eyes were stuck on you as if you were the most breathtaking person he had ever come across. and you were. while the conversation was hazy to him, the scene of you intertwining your fingers with his was still clear in his mind. your rosy cheeks afterwards made you look even prettier. thinking about it alone made chuuya’s heart rate fasten.
the third dream however, the one he had tonight, was a different story. because with each time these dreams seem to get bolder and chuuya doesn’t know how to handle it.
you were pushed against the bed with him hovering over you. he was kissing you and they weren’t some kind of gentle kisses either. more like they were filled with desire, need and many other strong emotions he couldn’t pinpoint. he pulled away for a moment, his lips still brushing against yours. your hair had gotten rather messy, your lipstick was smeared and it was obvious that you were breathless as he could feel your breath on his skin.
“chuuya, please…” he couldn’t fight back the shiver that went down his spine when he heard your pleading voice. your arms were wrapped around his neck as you held him close. his lips slowly trail down from your lips and he can’t help but start sensually kissing your neck. chuuya relished the soft noises that left your lips.
“want you s’bad,” you murmured to his ear and chuuya swears his heart skipped a beat. were you even aware of the effect you had on him? “i’m right here, doll.” his tone was low and husky as one of his hands sneaked below your shirt, lifting it up as he traced your waist. he didn’t miss the subtle tremble of your body when his bare hand came in touch with your abdomen. god your skin was so soft and your flushed face was the most adorable sight. he grinned before going for your lips again and then—
chuuya can feel his face heat up as he realised what he was thinking. he buried his face into the pillow once again because that was just a little too intimate. and goddamn it, he feels like a schoolgirl who just talked to her crush for the first time.
why the fuck is this happening to him?
he hasn’t seen you in a while since both of you were busy with your missions lately. you did text him though, and even if he always didn’t have the time to respond, you liked talking to him about your day as well as your frustrations at times. chuuya didn’t mind and when he had a chance would type you back. with a lot of things going on, you and him were still in touch. so are his dreams supposed to be some kind of sign to see you again?
if only you knew how much you have driven him insane. he needs to do something, anything to get these dreams out of his head. a night with actually good rest does sound nice right now. however he won’t get that, not tonight at least. suddenly chuuya gets an idea. a stupid idea perhaps, but he believes he will only continue to suffer if he won’t do anything about it. he grabs his phone from the bedside table and opens the messages app.
Me 4:03 am
you up?
chuuya sighs, there is no going back now. he hopes you’re asleep but a small part of him wishes you would respond because he has no idea what to do at this point. five minutes later, he hears his phone vibrate.
Y/n 4:08 am
mhm, something wrong?
his eyes slightly widen in surprise. so you were awake. for a moment he thinks what to text back.
Me 4:09 am
not really, just can’t sleep
Y/n 4:09 am
what a coincidence haha
now that i think about it i still haven’t seen your motorcycle that you promised to show me one day
maybe wanna meet up? ^ ^
chuuya’s mind pauses because this might be exactly what he needs — to see you again. without thinking too much he starts typing.
Me 4:10 am
sure
i’ll come and pick you up
Y/n 4:11 am
YAYY
i’ll see you then!!
he can’t help but smile a little. a genuine smile that he hasn’t had in a while. he quickly changed his clothes, locked his apartment and began making his way to the garage.
he might never admit it but even with you in his dreams, he still missed you. the real you.
fun fact: initially, i had put a winky face after the “i’ll come and pick you up” text but then decided against it bc i’m still not sure if he would do that LMAO
#𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ maeve writes . 🖋️#bsd#bungo stray dogs#bsd x reader#bungo stray dogs x reader#bsd x you#bsd chuuya#chuuya nakahara#chuuya x you#chuuya nakahara x reader#chuuya x reader#chuuya x y/n#chuuya x fem!reader#chuuya fluff
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𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏
𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊
Pairing: Suguru Getou x f!Reader
Warnings: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Breeding Kink, Creampie
Kinktober Masterlist
“Suguru, are you okay?” You ask your husband, who quietly eats his dinner. The man usually leads a conversation and won’t shut up, which is something you’re glad about because you never find yourself bored while you’re with him. But tonight, he quietly chews on his food tonight, not even making an attempt to speak.
“Yeah…” He answers but that isn’t convincing for you. His voice tells you otherwise. You continue eating your food, thinking of what could possibly be wrong. Maybe he had a long day at work… But he’d make sure to tell you about it.
You continue eating, the thought of Suguru being mad at you for whatever reason in the back of your mind. You think of ways to make it up to him, although you’ve done nothing wrong.
When you finish eating, you both stand up and begin cleaning. It’s something you’ve always done together, since the beginning of your relationship and luckily it carried on to your marriage.
“I got it, honey. You can go take a bath and relax.” You tell him, and he raises his eyebrow before putting his arm up, smelling his armpit to check if he smells. But he doesn’t, on the contrary, he smells really good.
“What’s up?” He questions when you should be the one asking him that. And then he realizes why you’re telling him that. He bites the inside of his cheek as he debates on telling you what’s bothering him.
“Are you tired? Or did I do something?” You respond, and the man sighs.
“I have something to tell you, sweetheart.” He begins. You put the plate that you’re holding down, before looking straight at him. He grabs your hand and begins to play with your fingers. He traces over them, feeling how soft they are. You patiently wait for him to speak again, your heart sinking. You’re thinking of the worst– An affair. No, Suguru has given you absolutely no reason to doubt him.
“What is it, Suguru?” You ask as you feel him playing with your wedding band.
“I want to try for a baby…” He confesses, and it lifts so much weight from your shoulders. You can’t help but smile at him, not exactly because of his words, but because now you know it’s not something that you did wrong. “You want to start trying for a baby?”
You slightly nod. “I do.”
That very same night, he fucked you senseless, but the man doubted one time would be enough. Every single night. Every single night for two weeks, he’s fucked you senseless.
He starts off slow. He kisses all over your body. He worships your body. Especially when he’s bottoming out. “Oh- You’re so beautiful now, and you’re going to look even more beautiful while pregnant with my baby.”
He looks down at you, so much lust in his eyes. You look so pretty while underneath him, taking all of his cock. Your legs on top of his shoulders. He can reach so deep while in this position, it has become his favorite in the past two weeks.
“So fucking tight, even after fucking you every night-” He hisses. The man just adores the feeling of your cunt and how it wraps around him. He’s beyond lucky to get this every night. The man starts to speed up, the sound of his skin slapping against yours intensifying.
Your eyes roll to the back of your head. His cock hits all the right spots- and he’s always known your body well but he’s gotten to know it more the past two weeks. He somehow managed to learn some things about your body that you yourself didn’t know.
The tip of his cock kissing your cervix. He smirks as he looks down at you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your mouth parted. You look beyond beautiful, he can’t wait till you’re filled up with his cum.
“Gonna look so pretty carrying my baby.” His voice is deep while his hand goes to your breasts. He begins to pinch your nipple. “Your tits are going to be filled with milk. You gonna let me have some, right?”
“Oh, Suguru!” You moan. It’s the only thing you say at night. The neighbors can hear how your husband fucks a baby into you, and he couldn’t be happier. And that won’t be the only proof that you’re his and only his- The baby that you’ll carry will also show them all that you belong to him.
“So good, Suguru-” Your voice is so loud. You’re already squeezing around him, and his other hand
“You gonna make me a daddy?” He asks. There’s no response as you bite your bottom lip, a moment of realization that you’re being so loud. He stops playing with your clit and slaps your thigh. He repeats his question.
“Yes! I’ll make you a daddy!” You yell back. Suguru’s thrusts speed up, and his hand goes to play with your clit. He chuckles, loving the way you’re moaning senselessly around his cock. You’re creaming around his cock, and he loves it.
He’s always loved sex with you, but now more than ever. Your pussy feels somehow ten times better now that he’s fucking you with the intention of getting you pregnant.
“Can’t wait to see you all big and round with my baby. Gonna fuck you everyday.” He says. “Gonna give you every last drop of my cum, and you’re going to be such a good wife and give me lots of babies, right?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” You chant. You hear him moan, which indicates he’s near his release. He always manages to keep moaning under control, but when he’s near his climax he always gets so vocal.
“Gonna knock you up. You’re going to look so beautiful.” He’s groaning. You’re squeezing around him and he feels so good. He has to close his eyes as he stumbles over his words, “You’re going to be all swollen while pregnant with my baby.”
It’s so repetitive, but it always gets you so aroused. You have to close your eyes, your back arching while you get louder and louder. Your legs shake as you come around his cock. The man bites his bottom lip, trying not to come so soon.
“Fuck-” He mutters. He throws his head back, his thrusts slowing down as he releases his seed inside you. Your cunt milks him for every drop of his cum, and it feels like so much. Because it is a lot. Suguru always comes so much and his cum is always so thick.
He pulls out his cock and takes your legs off his shoulders. The man catches his breath for a couple of seconds before he begins to kiss your lower abdomen. He kisses all over your stomach, his eyes looking up at your fucked out face.
“That for sure was it. You’re definitely pregnant.”
🏷 @s-witch-bitch @dont-ask-me-pls @todoroki-slut @jhsuhx @witchblades666 @eatingasswithsomeclass @Kamikat @tojigirlfriend @miemielovesjjk @ushigushy3000 @im-a-killer-queen @monstaxs-bitchh @lightofmylifeisbts @iam-mia9 @Flamesforrengoku @S0ur.cr34m @i2ilakkuma @mysticchaosangel @onidomi @geltears @hottieluvr @lovemarvel16 @windexwanda @captainweirdo42 @weasleypottersblog @sweetiepiezz @valentinedays @nothisispatrick300 @heartsatoru @flamealchemiste @redrum-and-diamonds @hannadesimp @m0ch1nut @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @nobody289x @deccahh @siriusoswaldsupremacy @watyousayin @poetrylovingwerewolf-blog @mimizsworld @milaaakebosss @icryduringgsexx
#kinktober#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#smut#jjk smut#getou suguru smut#geto suguru#jjk geto#geto smut#suguru geto#getou suguru x reader#jjk getou#geto x reader#getou suguru x you#jujutsu kaisen geto#jujutsu kaisen suguru
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Sunday afternoon shenanigans
Aeri Uchinaga x aespa5thmember! reader
Synopsis: you were having a Sunday off at the dorm and you were bored out of your mind when you remember Ningning’s vibrator hidden in one of her drawers. you’ve decided to have some fun, after all, but of course Giselle never knocks.
Warnings: smut? I guess. dom!giselle x sub!reader.
Word count: 3.3k
Notes: I HAVE RETURNED MY BELOVEDS. this is my first time ever writing/posting something like this… I was so embarrassed I swear to God. but I did have fun, too! I hope you like it and if there’s anything wrong pls tell me so I can fix it. I won’t check for any errors or mistakes or else I’ll just be too embarrassed and delete it all so enjoy!! luv u kisses. also i wrote vibrator bc I didn’t want to write dildo. so imagine what you will.
Pt. 1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3
-
It was a slow Sunday at the dorm. Karina and Winter had gone out shopping and Ningning was in China on one of her solo schedules, which left you and Giselle alone, all bored and tedious. You’ve been staring at your room’s ceiling (which you shared with Minjeong), for quite a while now, wondering what to do to kill off the boredom. Your mind wandered to something you remembered spotting in Ning’s room, once, when you were looking for a shirt she had borrowed ages ago. Remembering the big, bright-green toy in Ning’s drawers, you’ve impulsively decided you were done waiting for someone gross to finally fuck you; you’d do it yourself, instead.
That thought left you staring at the thing, still eyeing the vibrator suspiciously after wondering if you weren’t just too bored, and all. Surely, Ningning wouldn’t mind (or she would, but you’d by her another weird dildo if she fussed too much about you using it).
However, you had no idea of how that whole sex thing worked in practice. Sure, you’ve watched porn and listened to your bandmates ramble about their escapades, but it simply wasn’t the same. You huffed, frustrated but determined to but an end to it, after all.
“Hey, the girls were wondering if you’d like them to bring something to eat when they get ba-”Giselle stopped herself mid-sentence as she barged into your room, no doubt surprised by the sight of you with your hands down your shorts and the neon green vibrator one of your hands.
You jumped on your bed, pushing Giselle out of the bedroom as you cursed her out.
“What the fuck, unnie? Don’t you ever fucking knock? Doors are closed for reasons.”
You seriously wanted to die. And kill her. Then die and kill her again. You felt your face getting flushed with bright red as you hit your head on the door, hearing your friend’s laugh through the wood.
“Sorry, sorry. I’ll just let the girls know you’re not… hungry. For food.” Another laugh echoed, and you knocked your head stronger. “I’m sorry, ok Yn? Let me in… please?”
Giselle was met with silence, as you were still trying to figure out how to flush your head down the toilet after being caught in such a scene by one of your bandmates and best friends.
“Listen, there’s nothing wrong with getting yourself off, ok? It’s like, super natural. It’s not like we don’t masturbate, either.” She kept on talking, and you could picture her looking at her nails with her bored expression, tiny nose and monotonous voice, “In fact, I really should get a new vibrator for myself too. I feel like mine’s fucked up with the batteries or something. Although, of course I won’t get one in that hideous color like yours and-“
“Ugh, it’s not mine!” You said, giving up on ignoring the shorter girl and deleting yourself from earth. With an exasperated sigh, you pulled her by the arms, making sure to close the door well enough this time. “Just shut your fucking mouth, unnie God.” You muttered, preparing yourself to explain the whole situation to her.
(…)
“Why is it so green, though?” You questioned Giselle, turning the vibrator upside down with 2 of your fingers, almost unsure of how to manage it.
The two of you were sitting in your bed after you explained the entire idea to your friend, hoping she wouldn’t find you too pathetic. Thankfully, the only thing that truly made Giselle wrinkle her nose at was the color of the thing.
“How would I know? Ning’s weird as fuck. Maybe it’s a kink of hers or something.” Giselle scoffed, also looking a bit disgusted by the device’s bright color, and you hummed in approval.
It was very Ningning coded, indeed.
The silence after your conclusion was awkward, and you intended to give your friend an excuse to exit your room when she uttered, out of nowhere, “I could help you out, you know.”
“E-excuse me?” You gagged. This afternoon just kept getting odder and odder.
You mean, it’s not like you and Giselle weren’t close, which you were. You’ve changed, bathed and shared more intimate moments together than you could ever remember. It’s just… this was different. Very different.
“I could help you with what you… want.” She sounded almost unsure, even though she nudged you playfully. “Come on, it’s not like you know anything in practice.”
“No need to flatter yourself, huh.”
“I’m just saying,” she continued, ignoring your bitter tone, “that I could make you feel good. And that’s what you want, right? I mean, that’s what sex is about anyway.”
You were still not fully convinced, but you were eyeing her more attentively now. Sensing you were almost giving in, she plucked one of your locks out of your face. “It’s really not the big of a deal you think it is, Yn. It’s just sex, and we’re friends. Right?”
“...Yeah, right.”
This was obviously a stupid, impulsive, brainless idea, to have sex for the first time with one of your bandmates. While your other bandmates weren’t home.
You took a deep breath, nudging Giselle back and laughing as she looses balance and almost falls from your bed.
“Fine. Let’s do it, then.”
(…)
“So... should I just put it in?”
“What? No!” Giselle looks at you with big eyes, giggling a little. She stopped when you kept on staring at her, now realizing you were serious about not knowing how to do this. She took the toy from your hands before frowning at it, then sizing you up. “Well, not at first, at least. You’re not even wet. This way it won’t fit, and it will be too painful.”
“It’ll be painful anyway.” you grumbled, allowing her to spread your legs to place herself between them. Aeri massages your thighs before giving them a gentle squeeze.
“Not really, no.” she can tell you’re nervous by the way your eyes never meet hers, and you keep twitching as if to fight the urge to close your legs and dress yourself. “It might be uncomfortable at first, but then it’s like... a nice kind of discomfort.” her fingers tease the hem of your shorts, lightly brushing your abdomen. Ever since she’s caught you in your room and offered to help, Giselle has been nothing but patient. “You don’t have to do it, though.” she reminds you, still caressing your body. “There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin and-“
“I-“ you took a deep breath, finally gathering enough courage to stand on your elbows and look at her, although you still sounded unsure. “I do want to do it. I’m just ashamed, I guess. You can admit that it’s a bit pathetic, no problem.”
Giselle giggled again, this time with her fingers accompanying her light posture are they ran through your body, picking on your waist and poking your ribs in the places she knows you feel ticklish the most. You laugh and try to squirm under her touch — you’re taller, much taller, but she is stronger, so she quickly strands you entirely, hands locking your wrists up in your head so you couldn’t move or try to get on top of her.
“Hey, no fair! Let me go!” you plead, but your laughter and the weak way you try to run from her is all Giselle needs to know her mission has succeeded: you’re way less tense now.
“You’re so cute, Yn. it’s adorable, really.” she says, kissing each of your cheeks repeatedly. You try your best not to blush.
Even though you were the group’s maknae, you weren’t often reckoned as such, with your height making you impose and usually not the cute girl type. You didn’t mind it, either; you’d rather jump off a bridge than do aegyo anyway.
One of Giselle’s hands let go of your wrists to make its way down your abdomen again, though the other one kept holding you in place. Her featherlight touches still made you squirm, but she held you with such care, you couldn’t help but to feel safe.
“Is it ok if I take this off?” she asked, gripping at your panties as she scanned you for any reservations. You tensed again, but as you opened your mouth to say it was ok, she cut you, “it’s ok, then. We’ll just push it to the sides.”
Giselle knew how insecure you were about your body. The girls were always teasing you and karina for wearing the clothes with most fabric, and you often laughed about it. It was only now, in your newest comeback, that you were beginning to try new things and riskier, revealing outfits. She never understood it, though. You were praised by numerous knetz about your body; how toned, and athletic you were, with your long legs and gracious arms, fit for a supermodel. Which you have been since your teens, for a fact. The company had recently signed you off with Valentino and you were absolutely outstanding walking in Paris Fashion Week, which Karina had also attended, though not as a model. She did try her best to always praise how beautiful you were, though, to make sure you knew it.
True to her word, Aeri tapped your hips, and you raised them as she slipped your shorts past your legs and threw them on your bedroom floor. Your panties were pushed to the sides, as promised, but before her fingers could reach your pussy, the older girl lifted herself up from between your thighs, a slight frown on her face.
“What’s wrong, Unnie?” You asked her, looking for any signs of trouble in her yourself. Did you do anything wrong? Should you touch her, too? Does she even want to be touched? Fuck, you were so bad at this. Perhaps if you were any bolder, you would’ve gotten laid already and wouldn’t be in this pathetic situati-
“It’s all ok, Yn-,” Giselle reassured you, squeezing your hips to snap yourself away from your thoughts and back to her, to this. Now that you noticed it, she was gripping each of your thighs with her hands, and her face was too close to your core. Too fucking close. You felt your face get hot and a familiar sensation build up on your lower abdomen. (You weren’t a total prude, of course you’ve touched yourself before, even if it wasn’t often.). “I think my fingers will hurt you if we do them now, though. But don’t worry, I’ll prep you up.”
“What do you mean with prepping me u-oh fuck,” you drop your head on the bedside as she finally gave your pussy a long lick, delighting herself as she saw how responsive you were. Smaller, quieter ones followed, and soon the older girl was nearly making out with her dripping cunt.
You bit your lip, trying not to make any noise, but soon your bandmate’s fingers brushed your lips, forcing their way in.
“Don’t silence yourself,” she told you, watching you suck on her thumb so prettily. It made her so aroused to see how good you were at this. At following commands—her commands. It made Giselle want to rip the rest of your clothes and take you until you were crying for her to let go of you. “It will feel better if you let the sounds out, trust me.” She cupped your jaw before going back to eating you out, so you did as told, not bothering to hide how good this was making you feel at all.
“Ok...” you mumbled, moaning loudly as she teased you with her mouth. You arched your back whenever Aeri slipped her tongue into your dripping cunt, her nose brushing against your clit. The friction it made was out of this world, and you felt the waves of pleasure building up slowly but deliciously to create an entirely new feeling.
“Is it good?” She asked, her hot breath on clit before she gave it a light suck. You nodded, “Tell me.”
“S’too good, oh fuck.” You managed to answer her, breathless. One of your hands grabbed her hair, and you tried to shove her face even deeper into your pussy, but it made Giselle stop instead. You rolled your eyes at her. She was too bossy. “Sorry, unnie. More, please?” You were rewarded, then, as Giselle’s attention went back to your clit, circling it hard and fast as her hands pulled on your panties with enough strength to rip it off.
She grabbed your thighs and gave your clit a hard suck, making you almost scream. You cried loudly as you were hit by a hard wave of pleasure, with Giselle still licking you through your high, her eyes trained on your frame.
She got up and made her way up to you, promptly kissing you with her lips smeared with your juices. “Next time, tell me when you’re close, ok?” She asked, brushing some strands of hair out of your face. You nodded, still brushing her lips.
You could feel her hands in the hem of your hoodie and your shirt, and she stopped the kiss to gesture for you to get your arms up, which you did. Soon you were bare to her, a bit shy from the way her eyes were darkened and she stared at your chest with such lust. You tried to cover yourself, but Giselle was quick to replace your hands with hers instead, cupping your breasts eagerly.
“So pretty, Yn...” she said, and soon you two were making out again, with you on her lap. Your brain had long been reduced to mush and your sole focus was on Giselle: the way her hair was perfectly in place, hands running through all your body.
She was painfully clothed, though, you noticed. A clear contrast to your exposure. You told her just that, trying to get off of her so she’d undress too, but you weren’t allowed.
“Of course I am, silly.” She smiled at you, “This isn’t about me anyways.” And as she reached for you once again, you couldn’t find much strength to be bothered enough to argue, too busy with her kisses and touches. You couldn’t muster how long the two of you spent like that, just exploring each other’s bodies, but it was long enough for you to feel the heat building up on your core a second time, making you worry you were making a mess on Giselle’s thigh.
You tensed when you felt her fingers brushing your entrance, not quite entering but teasing, gathering your slick before going up on your clit, circling it for a few times then presenting themselves again on your pussy.
“Shh, it’s ok,” she cooed, placing wet kisses on your neck. She gently sucked on your pulse point, making you drop your head and moan embarrassingly loud. Thank God the girls were out. “It’s just one finger. You’ve taken fingers before, right?”
You shook your head, whining when you felt it enter you. It burned a little, and it was clearly too tight, but you already felt your entire body burning up. It was too good to stop. She stopped the work on your neck to stare at you, and you saw her eyes darken.
“No fingers? Not even yours?” She gripped your thighs harder, urging you to answer, but you were too busy rocking yourself against her hand to create more friction, anything to deepen this feeling that was already so, so good, “Answer me when I talk to you, yn.” Giselle’s tone was harsh, and you flinched a little. She curled another finger inside you, making you rock yourself onto her faster.
“It d-didn’t do anything when I did it by myself before, so I would just p-play with my clit until I came-oh God.” You squeezed your eyes as she added a second finger, increasing her rhythm.
She was breathless, too, you noticed as she kissed your chest, pinching your nipples and sucking on your breasts without caring if it was messy.
“Fuck, yn. You’ll drive me fucking insane” she murmured. You couldn’t even answer, reduced into a pool of cries and whimpers, but it just felt so good it made you want to cry. How could you have gone so long without it?
Giselle’s grip on you was strong, whether it was in your arms, hips, or thighs, and it would surely bruise later, but you didn’t care a single bit. All you wanted was for her to go harder and faster, not stopping.
“Unnie, please.” You pleaded, searching for her lips as you kissed her sloppily. “More, please, please, ah...” now you were deeply thankful that jimin and minjeong were out. There was no way your moans weren’t being echoed through the entire dorm.
It didn’t matter, though, because your cries rewarded you with an even faster pace, and the pain of being stretched as now only a reminder of the combo of sensations you were feeling.
“You’re such a mess right now, yn.” Giselle told you, her hands on your hips to keep you grinding on her without losing the fast pace. “So, so pretty.” She praised, pecking your lips.
You got shy, hiding your face in the crook of her neck to keep her from noticing how much that aroused you, feeling the familiar heat gathering in your belly.
“Aeri stop, I-I’m gonna,” you motioned to stop, but she only gripped you tighter.
“It’s ok, baby, don’t stop. Come for me.” She commanded, working her fingers even faster as she added her thumb to your clit and circled it fast. With a few strokes, you came.
Your vision went black, and you felt your body go numb, almost as though there were a million fireworks exploding inside of you. You felt Giselle’s hand on your back, tracing light circles as she held you close, still snuggled to her. You took your time evening your breaths, and a few minutes passed until you felt strong enough to get out of her lap and lay in bed, staring at her attentively.
“That was...” you didn’t even know what to say. “Amazing. I’ve never felt anything like it before.” You told Aeri, meeting her gaze.
She licked her fingers clean, the ones who were buried deep inside you just a few moments ago, letting them go with an audible ‘pop’.
“You did very good, baby.” She said, hugging you gently. “I’m glad you liked it. I told you it was good.”
“I guess.” You murmured, closing your eyes for a few seconds. It had been intense, but now you felt like a big-ass truck had run over you multiple times.
The sound of the shower being turned on made you open your eyes again, seeing Aeri besides you, a glass of cold water in your hands.
“Here, take it,” she motioned to you, who complied immediately, drinking it all pretty fast. “How about you take a bath now, huh? The girls might be back anytime.” You nodded, not wanting them to see you like that, and you took the hand Giselle offered to get up and go to the bathroom.
You did see something green displayed on the ground when you’ve reached your bathroom door, though, and you laughed a little to yourself.
“Unnie?”
“Yeah, Yn?”
“We didn’t even use the vibrator.” You pointed it out, seeing Aeri’s big smirk. The girl’s mouth opened in a fake motion as she grabbed it, taking it out of the room with her.
“I guess we forgot. We’ll have to save it for next time, then.” She winked at you, leaving you to shower alone.
Giselle would be caught dead if she wasn’t going to corrupt you all to herself.
#aespa giselle#aespa#aespa scenarios#aespa smut#aespa x reader#aespa x fem reader#aespa winter#aespa karina#aespa ningning#giselle x reader#aerichandesu#aeri uchinaga#aeri uchinaga x reader#giselle smut#kpop smut#sol writes#sol’s works
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would you f*ck yourself?
18+ // explicit sex no plot // ★ body swap ★
this one’s freaky but i had fun ok
wc 1200
selfshiptember; 21
you swap bodies with Toji Fushiguro for the day!
he tempts you with your own body. your new body can’t resist.
First off, it’s the height that takes you by surprise, then the deep voice that you feel rumbling in your chest, and how heavy his body is.
Then you look down, admiring yourself and flexing all the muscle you’ve gained. You feel the rush of blood pumping through them mixed with an unfamiliar feeling coursing through your veins. It’s rising and clouding your mind as you stare down at Toji, who’s inside your body below you. It’s in your head and down your spine, reaching to the tip of your fingers that you feel clenching into tight fists. You feel aggression and power and strength like you’ve never felt before. It feels amazing.
While you’re enjoying your new body, Toji’s getting to grips with his, pulling up your shirt and squeezing your tits, now he has complete control.
Not that he didn’t before, only now he can feel it all.
“No– stop it!”
You know how this will end– when he gets a taste for that pleasure he won’t be able to stop until it’s done.
You fear it’s already too late as you look down at the massive bulge forming in your sweatpants.
“That’s yours now too,” his teasing, snarky laugh doesn’t quite have the same effect in your higher pitched voice.
Although you have taken over Toji’s body, it seems that the instincts and desires within him are so strong that he basically still has control.
Overcome by the heat and arousal in his body, you’re tugging off his clothes and wrapping a hand around the erection you now have to take care of.
It doesn’t feel so abnormally massive in these big hands. It feels good, but Toji’s body is inching towards yours for a reason. This is going to feel much better.
You grapple your own body into submission, but the expression on your face looks familiar– that wide grin, those evil eyes. It’s him.
His body is moving as it always does– stripping you, getting his hands around your tits, down your waist, pumping his fingers inside that tight hole.
All those feelings you know and love, he’s now experiencing firsthand.
And it’s nearly wiped that smug look off the pretty face he now owns.
Before you realise what’s happening, the muscle memory kicks in and you’re dragging the body below you down the bed, sliding Toji’s cock over the dripping hole that awaits.
Would you fuck yourself?
It plays on your mind for a second until Toji’s body starts sinking in, pushing and struggling to get his tip inside.
“You need to, ah– relax” you spare the newbie some advice in Toji’s softest voice.
This part is always hard, especially if you’re feeling pretty worked up. For him, this might be tough. But your body is used to it, so he should be able to handle it.
“That’s it,” you find Toji’s voice coming out without thinking, “good girl”
Fuck. He must be in control of his lips too.
You ease in, feeling the tight grip around Toji’s shaft.
You thrust and work further inside, mimicking his usual movements until his dick finds its way right back, disappearing entirely.
“‘s it usually nghh– this fucking tight?” you groan as Toji nods your pretty head up and down, unable to get any words out.
You watch that cocky smirk disappear as you start pumping, enjoying the squeezing, warm sensation around Toji’s member. It really is like you’re being milked.
And he’s got that gooey, melting feeling you know all too well.
“How’s it feel– to be fucked with your own cock?”
“C-can’t believe– it feels this good–” he chokes out between your hard thrusts, “th-thought you were just bein’ ah–hahh, a dumb fuckin’ whore– but– ahh, this feels sofuckin’- nghh goood, babyyy”
You hear those familiar, crass words in a new light.
Anger flashes through your veins and behind your eyes, and you get a sudden, consuming desire to hurt the body below you.
Your body. But Toji will feel it.
“‘N who’s the whore now?” you use Toji’s big hands to pull your body up, getting on your knees and shoving his cock back inside.
“I said, who’s the fucking whore?” you pull on your own hair, making those whimpers escape your throat.
He soon realises why you submit to him so easily. It’s almost as if your body leaves him no choice– it’s just the way you react to those commanding tones, all that muscle and power.
“‘m the whore, s’me– it’s, ahh hahh– can’t believe you’re doin’ this to mee–ee–” he slurs out, already getting completely cock drunk.
You just let your new, primal instincts take over, letting that sadistic laugh roll off your tongue as you spank and squeeze until you feel a familiar build up.
Rather than the achy feeling emanating from your core, it’s focused around his thick cock, in his balls when they slap against you, and deeper, at the back.
The feeling spreads through his loins and shaft as you get a pulsing pleasure up his erection, pumping his load in your hole.
You can’t help but follow Toji’s usual routine, pulling out and watching the white liquid spill, smearing it around then flipping your little body over.
“You wanna feel real pleasure?” you huff, lowering Toji’s mouth onto your own clit.
He screams, slamming one hand over your mouth as the other grips the sheets.
You just let out Toji’s dry laugh, watching him enjoy your body.
You work two of Toji’s fingers inside, delivering a few final flicks of his tongue and your body is spasming and jolting.
It’s the pleasure you feel every day, but for Toji, it’s all a bit much.
There are already tears forming when you work him up a second time, feeling that thrumming and clenching around those big fingers.
You suck and bite and pump until he’s begging you to stop.
But you want to treat him to the real Toji experience.
“Before we switch back, I want to feel you cumming on this cock”
You can’t believe what you’re saying, let alone what you’re doing, as you pull your own body into position once more.
But the desire is all consuming. You can’t fight it.
You work Toji’s big cock inside again, groaning when you feel that tight, hot pressure over his tip again.
God, you could get addicted to this.
But you know you won’t have long until this phenomenon wears off, so you thrust hard and fast, using his thumb to work your body up to orgasm.
Both of your bodies are ready to spill, your hips in sync– from this new perspective you can so easily see what the other needs. And you know exactly how to deal out the perfect pleasure for your own bodies.
So Toji’s fucked out brain opens your lips and begs for release, just like you always do.
And you let him come undone over his own cock, the fullness and stimulation of your clit bringing him to a mind bending orgasm. A feeling he’ll probably never experience again.
The clenching hot grip of your own hole brings Toji’s hips to a stutter, another load of cum spurting out as you get that dull, achy feeling in his prostate, the dizzy pleasure through his head.
You all but collapse, huffing and panting, exchanging breaths as your consciousnesses pass between one another, returning to their rightful places.
“D’you enjoy that?” he’s back.
toji | m.list
selfshiptember 21!!
likes, comments + reblogs appreciated! <3
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#18+ content#jjk toji#toji fushiguro#fushiguro toji#toji x reader#toji smut#toji x you#toji drabble#toji fic#body swap#body switch#freaky#selfshiptember#selfshiptember 2023
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Moonlit Bath
(Diavolo x gn!MC)
(NSFW) (slightly submissive Diavolo) (NSFW tags: brief food play, sex in the water, oral, biting, marking, penetration with no condom, creampie, cock warming, outdoor sex, very sweet and gentle, no specifics about MC's genitals which was a bit difficult, but I didn't want to make two versions - maybe next time, though?)
Word Count: +3,600
“Please, Lucifer?” Diavolo was already a full minute into his appeal with no sign of Lucifer giving him an inch.
“No; must I repeat myself again, Diavolo?” Lucifer sighed and set his drink down on the table between them. “I’m not giving you my blessing. You can invite them, and they can accept, but I won’t pretend to be happy about it.”
“Please, reconsider,” Diavolo decided to switch tactics, “MC has been so exhausted recently. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
Lucifer tensed up. Got him, Diavolo thought. Lucifer leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, intertwining his fingers and cupping his hands around his knee. “You realize that you’re twisting me into an uncomfortable position, don’t you?”
“Of course,” Diavolo smiled, “so?”
“As I said, you can invite them, and MC is free to go with you. Just make sure they have a good time, alright?”
“Of course,” Diavolo held his hand out to Lucifer, “thank you, Lucifer. I will ensure MC enjoys themselves.”
Lucifer took Diavolo’s hand firmly – aggressively so – and cautioned his friend, “you had better return them in one piece.”
That conversation held behind closed doors preceded Diavolo’s invitation to take you on an overnight trip. He was right about you being exhausted, and it was no surprise that the House of Lamentation had played a part in that. You loved the brothers, but sometimes they drained your energy. So, when Diavolo was gifted two vouchers for an overnight resort, you were the first person on his mind. You deserved a break, and he craved a night alone with you. Although he knew that your decision was all that mattered, he didn’t like the idea of Lucifer being upset with him, and Diavolo knew that Lucifer hated to let you leave his side for longer than a few hours. Having preemptively smoothed things over with Lucifer, Diavolo finished his drink and eagerly sought you out.
“MC, would you be willing to clear your schedule this weekend for me?” Diavolo asked with a childlike grin.
“I can probably manage that, but what do you need me for?”
He presented the voucher to you, “would you go to an overnight resort with me? Each room has gorgeous outdoor baths, and the resort provides guests with a large selection of bath products to enhance the experience. They also have chefs from across the Devildom to provide room service. The resort offers massages, as well. You could relax with me for a full day.”
“Really?” You perked up.
“Of course,” Diavolo laughed, “and if that isn’t enough, the manager informed me that they have small, crow-shaped portable freezers, so you can fill them up with drinks and desserts and enjoy them in the bath. A few gourmet ice cream brands partnered with the resort, so they have the best options.”
You pulled Diavolo into a hug, “you had me at overnight resort, but that all sounds amazing! I’d love to go with you! Thank you so much.”
Diavolo chuckled and picked you up in his arms, twirling you around. He couldn’t look away from that smile – it was as if the invitation itself had rejuvenated you. Anticipation rose in his chest: a whole day alone with you where you could just enjoy yourself around him. If you could feel at peace with him, he would be the happiest demon in all three realms. He couldn’t resist peppering kisses all over your face.
“I promise you’ll have a good time,” you could feel the joy in his words and the smile on his lips as he kissed down your neck. He pulled away from you reluctantly, a slight pout on his lips, “but for now, I have to head back to the castle. Barbatos won’t let me so much as leave my office this weekend if I don’t get my work done on time, so I need to get that done for you.”
“My prince,” you kissed him once more to hold him over. “Work hard. I won’t slack off either, so we can enjoy this weekend together.”
Diavolo’s chest flooded with affection. He bit his lip, wondering if you would allow him to be greedy with you, “can I have one more kiss? Please?”
“Yes, my little prince,” you placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Now, get your work done.”
You both kept your ends of the deal, and when Diavolo drove up to the House of Lamentation that Saturday morning, no one could deter you from getting into that car. The drive was relaxing in its own way, and it gave you an opportunity to stare at Diavolo all you wanted. He could see you watching him from the corner of his eyes, and it took all the restraint he had not to pull the car over in some scenic location and fuck you right there – or let you fuck him. He didn’t really care, so long as he could touch you.
It was a quarter past noon when you checked in. Before you walked into the room, Diavolo confessed, “I requested that they give us a room with only one bed. I hope that wasn’t too presumptuous of me, given our relationship.”
“Of course, it’s fine. I’m a bit insulted that you think I wouldn’t want to share a bed with you,” you joked as he unlocked the door. You pulled him into the room and towards the bed, gently pushing him onto it. He stared up at you expectingly, and you rewarded him with a kiss. You pulled away and stared at his soft gold eyes; desire lived in his eyes when he looked at you – an emotional exhibitionist who bared his feelings for you. When Diavolo made himself so easy to read, you almost felt impure for looking at him, knowing you were seeing something no one else would, as he had expressed so many times that he only showed these sides of himself to you. You smiled at him to hide your shame at witnessing such raw honesty. Still only inches from his lips, you spoke, “I’m looking forward to getting you in bed later tonight, my little prince.”
Diavolo could feel his face burning. For a brief moment, he wanted to forgo all other plans and spend the next few hours in bed with you, but he knew that patience would pay off.
Diavolo stomached someone else’s hands on your body during the couples massage he booked – although he made a point to hold your hand the whole time, much to the inconvenience of both of your masseuses. It seemed as if Diavolo was intent on touching you to his heart’s content today. He even suggested that you feed each other when you ordered room service. As advertised, you two enjoyed a relaxing afternoon – although Diavolo could not determine whether the resort had a larger impact on this peace or whether it was you. Actually, no, he knew it was mostly you, but he could only hope you would say the same about him. He was too embarrassed to ask.
With the early hours of night upon you and the moon beginning to rise in the sky, you and Diavolo visited the resort’s shop to select your bath products and filled your portable freezer up with a selection of fancy macarons and pints of ice cream. Diavolo held the freezer up and smiled, “this is so cute, it kind of looks like one of the crows that follows Mammon around, right?”
“That really chubby one?”
“Exactly!” Diavolo laughed. “Do you think they sell these? I would love to have one of them at the castle. I could fill it with your favorite ice cream and keep it in my room. That way, if you’re ever having a rough day, you can come directly to me, and even if I can’t help, I’ll have ice cream.”
He was always thinking of you, and it was so sweet that it was hard to respond to, so instead, you pet him, taking the time to enjoy how soft his hair was. Diavolo melted against your hand. Finally, you managed to speak, “I’m sure we can find a way to get you one.”
Diavolo grinned and started to pull you out onto the room’s private patio. Leafy trees and stone walls isolated you from other customers without hindering your view of the sky. From the cliffside on which the resort was located, you could even look out above a small oceanside town and the vast body of water. The moon floated just above the horizon, leaving a small space between its brilliant glow and a wavering reflection.
The bath was a massive natural stone structure, sunk into the ground with more than enough room for four people – which explained why the bath bombs were so large and came in a pack of two. A slightly raised stone bar was attached to the bath, and on it was a basket of towels, a bottle of Demonus in an ice bucket, and two wine glasses. Next to the bath was a showerhead attached to the tall stone wall. A variety of cool colored Devildom flora were planted around the patio, with a deep violet flower sprouting up near the edge of the bath catching your eye. It was almost a perfect contrast to Diavolo’s eyes.
“What do you think, MC?” Diavolo asked you.
“This is gorgeous, Diavolo! I almost can’t believe I’m in the Devildom,” you stared in awe. He laughed in the face of your honesty before turning your gaze towards him, running his thumb across your lower lip.
“One day, I’m going to show you just how beautiful the Devildom can be. I want to take you to every pretty place and watch as the shock slowly disappears – so that whenever you leave, you dream of coming back to me.”
He looked so sincere. You wanted to apologize for how you phrased your awe, but he kissed you before you could speak. One of his hands started to play with the hem of your shirt. Diavolo had been patient long enough, and he had been looking forward to bathing in the moonlight with you more than anything. He wanted your naked body pressed against him in the steaming water. You squeezed his bicep softly as you kissed him back. The bliss painted across his face when he pulled away was starting to make you impatient, too.
“Get undressed,” you told him. “I’ll start running the bath while you wash off.”
As you filled the tub, ensuring that the water wasn’t too hot for your skin, you stole glances at Diavolo. He was so sensual that it was hard to believe he wasn’t purposely putting a show on for you: the water rinsing suds slowly down his chest and arms as if it was caressing him, the way his hair clung to the nape of his neck, and even the way he bent down to lather his legs seemed unfairly sexual. When the bath was nearly filled, you dropped in the bath bombs. The water became a soft, milky pink, as flower petals and herbs floated to the surface.
Diavolo came up behind you, his warm, wet body pressing against you in an embrace. He whispered into your ear, “your turn to wash up.”
You nodded, hoping that the warmth you felt was in part due to the heat of the bath. Diavolo got into the tub and watched you shamelessly as you undressed and washed yourself until you finally joined him. The second you dipped into the water, his hands were on you. He kissed you wildly, opening his mouth as if to beg you to slip your tongue inside of him. He moaned against your lips. You pulled away so you could leave kisses across the top of his chest – any part of him that rested above the water – while caressing his chest and stomach just below. He leaned back and moaned louder.
“Wait, MC,” he whimpered through shallow panting.
“Yes, my prince?” you asked against his skin.
“I brought you here to make you feel better.”
“I do feel better,” you sucked on his collarbone.
“No,” he moaned and held you by your hips, “I want to make you feel good first, please?”
You pulled back and looked at him, disheveled and slightly flushed. His lips parted desperately. Diavolo begged again, “can I? Please?”
“What did you have in mind?” you asked while smoothing his hair back.
Instead of replying, he lifted you out of the water and sat you at the edge of the bath. The stone ground was cold, but Diavolo’s warm hands caressing your hips and thighs warmed you up slightly. He placed one of your legs over his shoulder so he could easily kiss and bite your inner thighs. He eagerly sucked on your skin, leaving a trail of hickeys up your thigh before slowly kissing back down the trail of marks. You moaned and ran your hands through his hair. He pulled back slightly, pride swelling in his chest for marking you and forcing those sweet noises out of your mouth. Between the sweet scent of you and the milk bath, he felt intoxicated. Diavolo panted and asked, “can I try something?”
“Of course,” you smiled down at him. Diavolo reached for the freezer and pulled out a pint of ice cream. He scooped a small spoonful out and dropped it on your thigh.
“That’s cold,” you complained, earning a chuckle from him.
He watched it start to melt against your hot skin, slowly sliding down your thigh. Diavolo brought his tongue to your skin and licked you clean, the taste of your skin and ice cream melding. His mouth was so hot compared to the sensation before. He grabbed the bottle of Demonus and poured a generous stream down your other thigh, letting some of it drip into the bath. He licked the sticky trail of liquor off of you, pulling another moan out of you. You were so intoxicating to him.
As nice as his teasing tongue felt on your thighs, you wanted more. You used the leg he had placed on his shoulder to slowly pull him closer to you. He licked his lips as you did so.
“Want me to taste you now?” Diavolo asked. You nodded and he dove in, using his mouth to pleasure you greedily. His tongue eagerly lapping at you and his sweet moans sending vibrations through your body. He swirled his tongue around your most sensitive spots, savoring your taste. You could feel his fervor in the desperate sucking and licking, causing you to clench your eyes shut.
Suddenly, you heard a large splash in the water. You looked down at him, some of your fluids dripping from the corner of his mouth. His eyes were wide. In his excitement, his lower set of wings had sprouted out of his back. You were taken aback, but still enamored with the sight of him. You felt one wing graze your foot and tried not to laugh.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” you smiled sheepishly.
“I’m sorry, I got worked up,” he averted his gaze shyly. “I can transform back.”
“No, no it’s adorable,” you chuckled and reached out to pet his head. The moonlight reflected off his hair and along his wet skin. He was so lovely. Diavolo gave you a grin that distorted your notions of what was angelic and what should have been demonic.
With your permission, he continued, allowing you to hold his head and guide him. You watched his wings twitch slightly as he moaned. The moonlight shined against the soft gold at the tip of his wings. His pretty mouth felt so good that you tilted your head back and ran your fingers through his hair mindlessly. Diavolo could tell you were getting close and started to use his hands. He pulled you closer to the edge of the tub so that he had better access. Diavolo licked one finger and slowly put it inside of you, curling his finger to bring you more pleasure.
“I’m close,” you tightened your grip on his hair.
“Good. Take whatever you need from me,” he said before continuing to put his mouth on you. He added another finger, stretching you out slightly. You rolled your hips and felt him go deeper. Diavolo savored the feeling of you clenching around his fingers and twitching against his mouth as you came for him. With little regard for your sensitivity, he gave you a few more soft licks and gentle thrusts with his fingers before he pulled them out of you. He licked his lips and gulped, ensuring that he took everything you gave him.
“MC, I can’t hold back anymore. Please, let me fuck you. Please?” Diavolo begged you. You tried to find the words to reply in your afterglow. Impatient, he continued his pleas between messy kisses along your inner thigh. His damp hair tickled your legs. “Please, I want to keep making you feel good.”
You found it impossible to deny him, and as soon as you agreed, he pulled you into the water with him. He set you on top of his lap so you could feel his hard cock against your stomach. He rubbed himself against you a few times before aligning himself with your hole, stimulating you at the same time. Slowly, he thrusted up into you, with the warm water easing the insertion. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tracing your hands along his wings – which seemed to enhance his pleasure. The water in the bath ebbed and flowed in rhythm with his thrusting. A splashing sound pulsed in harmony with his moaning and the slapping of your skin. One of Diavolo’s hands held you firmly by your back while the other rubbed your body in the thin space between the two of you. His hand snaked even lower, driving you crazy until your eyes were screwed tight.
“How does it feel?” he managed between shaky moans. You could hear the need in his voice, and you indulged him.
“You’re doing so good, my prince,” you pulled back and kissed him. Your taste still lingered in his mouth. Praise was all he needed for his hand to pick up speed and pressure for you. His thrusts became slower and deeper, causing you to sink your nails in his back. He moaned into the pain.
“Fuck,” he growled, “can I cum inside of you? Let me mark your insides, please.”
“Yes,” you panted, “cum for me.”
As he did, he bit your shoulder at the base of your neck in a weak attempt to muffle his moaning. The vibrations of his mouth and the sharp pain combined with the heat of his cum inside of you and the continued stimulation from his hand, which pushed you over the edge a second time.
He released your shoulder and kissed over the saliva coated indents in your skin. His eyes were hazy when he pulled back. Still inside of you, Diavolo let out a content sigh.
“I’m so happy you came with me,” he smiled and kissed the mark on your shoulder again. Realizing what he said, he got flustered, “ah, wait! I didn’t mean – I meant that I’m happy you came to the resort with me, not that you came at the same time as me.”
“I know,” you chuckled and smoothed down his hair.
“But I’m happy about that too,” he admitted, burying himself against your neck and holding you tight. You soothed his embarrassment with gentle pats.
However, the cool night air was starting to get the better of you. You interrupted his nuzzling, “Diavolo, my sweet prince, the water is getting cold. We should probably wash off and go inside.”
Diavolo refused to pull away from your neck, choosing to whine against your skin, instead. “I don’t want to take my dick out of you. It’s so warm. Is it possible to wash up and stay inside of you?”
You couldn’t resist laughing. He may be the next demon king, but right now, he was just a needy demon who loved you too much to want to be apart from you. You traced a finger down his back, feeling the slight bumps along his skin where you had scratched him. “I’m not sure about that.”
“Then at least let me wash you this time. I’ll even dry you off,” Diavolo offered through a half-genuine pout. He added, “after all, there are still plenty of hours left in the night, and I want to take care of you for every second of it.”
Bonus:
When Diavolo walked you up to the House of Lamentation, Lucifer greeted you both at the door. He was quick to spot the bite mark near the base of your neck. He glared, barely containing his demon form, “what the fuck did I tell you?”
“I brought them back in one piece – like I promised.”
“With a giant bite mark!”
“But I had a good time, Lucifer,” you admitted. His gaze instantly softened, but he pulled you into the house and closed the door on Diavolo.
“Next time you need a day off, I’ll deal with it myself,” Lucifer grumbled.
By the time you had returned to your room, you had three messages from Diavolo:
Don’t let him see your thighs, MC!
Actually, don’t show anyone else your thighs. I’d be happy if I was the only one.
Also, I had a great time with you. I can’t wait until I can spend another night alone with you. I want to make you feel even better next time.
#diavolo#gn!mc#spice tier#obey me#obey me diavolo#obey me smut#diavolo x mc#diavolo x reader#diavolo smut
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wibta if i straight up told my s/o they can’t bring their dog when they move in with me?
i (early 20s ftm) and my partner (late 20s nb) are moving in together next year. we’ve been planning this for a couple of years now, but it’s been taking a while to plan out because we live on different continents and we needed to sort out visas, travel, work situation, and getting an apartment for us for when they arrive.
importantly to this story, my s/o has a dog. this dog is large and VERY loud - barking 24/7 at everything, crashing into furniture, loud whining, pushing people over, and growling at people who get too close to s/o.; this has included me whenever i visit.
the apartment we got has a one pet policy and all of our neighbours are elderly people as the building used to be assisted living (basically housing for the elderly where they have direct lines to nurses and disability accommodations). it’s a pretty small block, it’ll just be us, one guy across the hall, one woman directly below us, and one across the hall from her.
because of this, as soon as we got the apartment we realised we wouldn’t be able to feasibly take s/o’s dog. she’s too big for the apartment, she’s loud enough that all of the neighbours will be hearing her at all hours, and there is nowhere nearby she’ll get enough exercise for her size. on top of that, she’d have to be in quarantine for 6 months once she’s here as is my country’s policy for pets travelling which doesn’t seem fair to her, and this is AFTER a 15 hour long plane ride where she’ll be alone.
i will admit that i have kind of selfish reasons for this as well. i’m autistic and i have both anxiety and c-ptsd on top of that, and all of those things are set off by loud noise, especially loud noise that is constant or repeated. even when i’m on the phone with them, their dog is always barking and hurting my ears and sending me into sensory overload, as is how loud they have to speak over her and when they shout at her to quiet down etc. when i visit i have to make excuses to leave or go somewhere else for a breather because within minutes i’m so drained and overwhelmed and upset just because of the dog’s insanely loud barking. i was also attacked by a large dog when i was very little and ever since then i’ve been wary around Big dogs, so although i want to work on it and i’ve been trying to (i love dogs), having one so big and jumpy be aggressive and growling at me makes me incredibly on edge.
s/o was sad because they really love their dog but ultimately agreed, on the condition we can get a cat instead as they’ve always wanted one but were never allowed. i agreed to that, i’m much more of a dog person and i’m a little sad we won’t be able to get one but a cat seems a fair compromise for them having to leave their dog and i don’t mind cats either, it will be easier to care for and hopefully just as cuddly!
so i thought that was all agreed on and done with
months later i mention looking into cats and they go “but wait! that means i cant bring my dog!” like this was the first time it had occurred to them. i was kind of caught off guard and was just like “…yeah, but we can get you your cat instead!” and the conversation kind of died out and moved on quickly
but ever since then they’ve been making little comments about bringing their dog and what we’ll do with her when we live together and it just… doesn’t seem to be sinking in that they cannot bring their dog.
i feel awful because like. i can’t emphasise enough how much they love this dog. they cuddle up together in bed, they’re always calling for her, always talking about her, always taking pictures of her. when they visit me they talk about missing her.
i know when it comes down to it they’ll choose to move in with me over staying to keep her, but i worry that i’m being selfish by making them choose in the first place. i feel like i need to make it clear once and for all that the dog absolutely cannot come with them and make sure it sticks, but i honestly don’t know how to do it in a way that will make them realise while not hurting their feelings because we’ve already gone over the reasons and they initially agreed.
AITA for making my s/o give up their beloved dog?
What are these acronyms?
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