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fawnpires · 1 year

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TORN ON YOUR HEART. — KÖNIG.

(in short: a concept about your husband, könig, wanting to ruin his pretty wife - and her pretty makeup.)

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ contents: poorly google-translated german, husband!könig, slight dumbification, size kink & difference, body worship, soft dom!könig, manhandling, face-sitting, possessive sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, stomach bulge.

"Let me ruin that makeup off your face, mein kleines reh." his accented voice muffles from underneath you.

With his large anatomy in contrast to your much small-scaled body, it was without a doubt that the flat palms of his hands secured at the flesh of your thighs could keep you right where he wanted you to be. The veil of your husband's hood had been pushed up to a right enough amount to where his hooked nose had been exposed as well as his mouth where there was a visible scar starting at the right side of his lips that curved upwards to his cheek and possibly even up into his eyes — which were still shrouded behind the covering veil of his face, only two eyeholes teared in them to reveal the hazy blue irises that peek up at you when you were currently situated at his exhibited mouth.

"Köni! Mmph, baby... it's too much." Your voice comes out but nothing but a sole tone of a quivering tone, bare thighs sheen with sweat at this point while your chest rises and falls with each heaving breath. A mind fogged of entirely him and the pleasure he brings upon you, it causes you to have lose track of time; meaning that your trembling figure has rested on König's face for quite some time, but an obscured head of ecstasy forbids any kind of coherent thought to cross your head about anything outside of this dome of rapture. "I can't do a lot more, m'sensitive..."

"Awe. Come on, liebchen, don't be like that." König said, giving a small pause in between his words to lap more at your soaking cunt which he positions himself underneath; the warm muscle of his tongue causing your eyes to willingly roll back in your head while your thighs squeezed at his masked head with a bit more pressure, a faint squeal leaving your mouth from the mere pleasure of it all. "Just hold back a little longer, then you'll get your big reward, okay? Can my pretty girl do that for me?"

Voluntarily, you nod your head all of desperation to his words — nothing but absolute commitment to make the larger man underneath so proud of you in the moment. At your non-verbal response, a faint phrase of "süßes mädchen" came muffled below you as the motions of his tongue became more rapid without breaks. One of his hands had combined with the movements of his mouth, a circling thumb pressing on the nub of your clit which only sent your mind into a more in-depth condition of personal ecstasy. Your head was now fully thrown back, vulgar sounds of moans and whines falling from an agape mouth while a heated sensation began to birth at your lower abdomen. One of your hands plants itself right next to the bedsheets nearest to where your head laid while the other had a flat palm to his hooded head, your fingers twitching as I had started to lose myself more.

"König, fuck!" You whined out in a more high-pitched tone than intended, pools of sweat sticking to the soft material of your laced bra — chest puffed out which only pronounced on how heavily you were breathing, giving König the view of a lifetime; your breasts cradled above in the feminine-designed cloth of your bra, white and lining with a lace trim around the edges. The more his tongue sloppily lapped at your drooling cunt, the more that familiar sensation grew in intensity at your lower abdomen; the one that felt all tingly, like sparks were threatening to explode right there and now.

His eyes linger onto the soft plush of your breasts before peeking through your thighs up at your face before speaking: "Ah. That's it, kleines Reh, lose yourself to me." the man mumbles into your soft skin, palming at the flesh with his larger hands as the ministrations of his tongue could only speed up without break. The sensation at your lower abdomen approaches towards an end the more his tongue slid up the puffy lips of your cunt, bumping up right against the nub of your swollen clit along with the tip of his nose. Small whispers and mumbles of praises, which were barely audible, came from König as some sort of accommodation to the reach the final stage of an orgasm — he knew you were sensitive, and he knew damn well that the useful combination of both his voice and larger touch could make you easily fall compliant to him; your brain easily so stupefied into a state of only existing bliss.

By now, the tears that brimmed at the slightest corners of your eyes were ruining over the mascara that tinted your lashes — faint black streaks rolling down the sides of your face, the whites of your eyes mostly visible as they rolled back into the inner barriers of your head. Your hips had started to grind down onto his mouth while your trembling body had begun to get more responsive to him. "M'god... I'm gonna cum..." you whined out softly into the air, voice slightly hoarse from all the noises that creeped up your throat.

"Oh, you're gonna cum?" König asks, feigning a mocked innocence with a now more huskier voice and a growl to it. "Then go ahead, nobody is going to stop you, schatz." he adds on with a slight hiss, his hands moving from being wrapped to your thighs up towards your hips, then the soft skin of your stomach, then to your bra-confined breasts. He pulls off the delicate fabric and tosses it over to the floor, leaving you now completely bare above him.

Given his confirmation you don't hesitate to oblige with them — your body trembling a little more violently as you succumb into the tingling sensation that had expanded inside of your lower abdomen, pouring out without delay as you felt your orgasm finally burst into reality. Both of your hands moved to grip the bedsheets established at his head, holding them between your fingers in a near death grip while you rode out your climax. After a duration of a few more lasting seconds, you come down from your high; body coated in a light sheen of sweat, mouth widened to catch your breaths, and your grip loosening up at the sheets. Your head tilts in a downwards angle to get a better look at your mountain of a husband, steadily moving yourself down to sit on his bare and sturdy chest to gain a better perspective of his face.

König hadn't even given you a chance to catch even the slightest view of the aftermath of himself before his hands were back to your hips against, forcing you off his frame. He moved to lean up against the headboard, still holding you hostage in his more stronger grasp at your waist until he settles you in his lap. In his head, he almost thought of you as a fragile doll while you found placement on him; so much smaller in size, so easy to move around without a struggle with his more substantial clutch. His then leans into you and presses his mouth up against yours in a swift movement leaving you no time to think, breaching your mouth with his tongue that still had the aftermath of your orgasm residing there. Fingers trailed up the inner section of your legs before tickling at your thighs, slowly moving upwards to your sensitive cunt. His index and middle finger drag a slow line up your puffy lips, causing you to moan softly into his mouth while your tongue shyly wraps to his.

Those two fingers of his decide to no longer exist on the outer region of your cunt, plunging inside instead in a stretching method. A gasp is earned into his mouth as your body falls frail against his chest, back slightly arching at the sudden pressure inside of your aching cunt. You felt his fingertips drag at your inner walls the more they pumped in and out of you; it had first started off slow and careful, but they increasingly grew a little more violently with desperation. Your makeout session with König had gotten more heated and explicit, his tongue crowding your mouth and tasting every crevice that he could possibly reach to. His free hand held you steady on his lap easily as he took note of your hips bucking at the movements of his fingers pumping with more brutality. He can't help but chuckle to himself at your needy condition as he found it quite adorable, the sound resonating within his chest.

As he withdrew his head back from you, a thick line of saliva bonded at his tongue and had been shared into your mouth in a sloppy manner. He continues to move his fingers in and out of you without stop, your body squirming as your head was angled to look at him — but never breaking off eye contact with him. König grips that one side of your waist a little tighter, fingers speeding up to an intense rate while your inner thighs were now soaking of your leaking pre-arousal.

"A-Ah... König. Please, I want you." You whined out underneath your breath, the constant stretch of his fingers opening up your cunt was a bit painful but it didn't take long for them to subside into a stinging pleasure.

"You want me, do you?" He asks in response to your whining request, but never allowing his fingers to falter from their built rhythm.

You took a few seconds to pant out before replying. "I do, please... want you to fuck me."

Your words were like a shot of adrenaline to him, a sudden primal urge listing at his necessities. His exposed, scarred lips give you a smirk — one without teeth, but showing a smug kind-of expression to them even if you couldn't fully view his full face. He slowly extracts his fingers from your cunt before moving to the only article of clothing that was on his body at the moment, his pants. Underneath where you sat on his lap, his hand found the buckle of his belt and undid it from the hoops of his tactical pants. There was a distinct noise of a zipper coming undone as well as the rustling of pants to get off. Without even looking down, you felt it; there was no separation of fabric between the two of you anymore, just bare skin. Bare and sweaty skin against each other.

His erected cock rested against your inner thighs, only fueling the amount of eagerness you had that had lead up into this situation. Hands were placed at both sides of your waist while he guided you a little up above his lap to turn around and lean up at his chest, hovering over his cock. He lowered you just the right amount so your cunt could rub up against the head of it — smearing his precum around your swollen lips and clit, more wetness starting to pool down your thighs. König elicited a deep sigh and you bit your lip, full-on whimpers escaping past the bitten flesh.

"Want it so bad, oh, please..." The words slipped out into the usual whine of your tone, nails digging into the skin of your palms at the sense of his precum soaking your cunt. "Need t'feel you inside of me..."

"I know, mein Reh, and I will." he responds through a quick breath, carrying on with moving your hips so that your cunt was rubbing up against the head of his cock. "Don't worry that head of yours, my pretty little wife will get what she wants."

Those were his last words before sheathing himself entirely into your smaller anatomy, the more extreme stretch of his cock compared to his fingers had made you squeal out at the first thrust. You squealed as you felt him fill you up, make you full; allowing your cunt to swallow him up until he was right at the base. He was warm when sheltered in your inner walls, but you had felt you were being impaled in a good way. He kept a firm grip on your hips as he fucked up into you, starting off with slow yet powerful thrusts that made a loud squelching noise — but it wasn't long for him for his carnal wants to take over, slow thrusts becoming animalistic and eager. You supported yourself laying at his chest while your head slightly sloped back to rest at his shoulder, moans leaving your mouth at his vicious onslaught on you.

His fingers imprinted tightly into the skin of your waist as grunts began to emerge from behind his veil, his hips moving quickly against your soaking cunt. He rested his forehead against your shoulder as curses in his native language were muttered under his breath, muscles already layered with a sheet of sweat while pounding into you. His cock brushed up against your cervix with each of his pushes, inner walls pulsing as you savored the moment. Skin slapping against skin and personal sounds of ecstasy had started to reverberate against the room's walls, a divided choir of unadulterated material. His movements got more aggressive, more quicker as the both of you were left with no room to speak anymore; only grunting and moaning, incoherent words along with wet skin smacking so delightfully in a connected way.

You felt his hands transport from your waist to cup your breasts, still keeping you in a solid hold if you had wanted his fucking to continue. Large palms kneaded at your flesh while his head at your shoulder was turned towards the side of your neck, pressing small kisses there while he proceeded with splitting you open on his cock.

"This pretty body is alles meins, you hear me?" he manages to get out between grunts and heavy breaths. "Nobody else, just me... it will always be me." It's not like his words were some heavy lie to use you for your body, but they were genuine and came from his heart; the beauty of your anatomy was truly a treasure to him, and god consider him the luckiest man alive to have a woman possessing such angelic features as his wife.

"Mmhm, yes, all yours." you said through a foggy head full of rapture, head cocked to the side to give König better access to your neck.

His lips formed into a smirk at your words before he grabbed at your hips again, kissing and sucking marks of love into your neck while he pounded into your cunt; feeling himself on the brink of a climax as his grunts grew heavier, more pronounced with your cunt clenching around him like a vice. Your moans grew in volume as you felt a familiar heat start to ride at your lower abdomen, back arching into a curve off his chest as you slightly leaned your upper half forward — basking in the severe intensity of this moment. A more saturated wetness starts to drool down your inner thighs and onto his lap, the skin of his thighs glowing in your abnormally dripping arousal.

König moves one of his hands to the sweep of your stomach, taking notice of the obvious bulge that swells through the soft, sweaty flesh. His fingers inch their way on top of that protruding bump which appears more prominent each time the head of his cock pushed up against the barrier of your cervix, pushing against the area. Your eyes widened at the almost overbearing feeling, more arousal dripping down your thighs.

“-Eep! K-König! Hngh, please.” you said in a whining voice as you could only writhe against his touch, eyes glazing of tears that sourced from an overwhelming arousal, a second climax forming at your lower abdomen and threatening to spill over any second now.

“Mein gott, you’re so tight.” he growls, thrusts becoming less steady but more hostile; fingers pressing down harder on himself that showcases through the skin of your stomach. “Mmm - Scheiße, doing so good, almost there.”

It was a fact you weren’t going to last once he spoke those very words to you — his husky voice, his nonstop thrusts assaulting at your cervix, and his mouth presses wet saliva-soaked kisses to your neck; you couldn’t help but spiral into your second orgasm of the night, squirming at his lap and allowing everything to pour out. It was wet, everything was wet — his lap and bare muscular chest, your legs, the sheets of the bed. Your naked back was pressed to his chest as you immediately felt weakened by the experience. Soon enough, his own release followed your own and you felt every inch of him in your guts.

Your stomach was warmed and full, both of your skin sticky and blanketed with sweat. While he rested at the headboard, your head was idle on his shoulder — taking in his natural scent while you could only gaze absentmindedly at the sharp features of his face. He adjusted his head to stare back into your eyes, his left arm slowly coming to pat and wipe at your messy face with his thumb; streaks of mascara staining that thumb in an almost clay-like material, the sight causing him to chuckle lowly.

“Oh, süßes Reh. Who knew you could be even more gorgeous with a ruined face?” he whispers in a hoarse voice, giving you a small smirk which pressed to one side of his lips - leaning in shortly to press a small, gentle kiss to your cheek.

#. ˚ ʚ — ꒰ könig. ꒱#könig x reader #könig x fem reader #könig x you #könig smut #konig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig modern warfare #call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic #drabble #female reader #.୨୧ fawnpires

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sebastianwallows · 1 year

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I'm begging for some HC of Ominis and Sebastian masturbating over the female player 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻Like where they prefer to do it, how often, how much noise do they make, how much do they cum? Please describe them 😩

Ominis x f!reader; Sebsatian x f!reader

Warnings - 18+ smut content, all characters over the age of 18, masturbation

A/N - This really got to to me after all the Sebastian audio clips that have been floating around 😩

Ominis

- he prefers his privacy in the Undercroft, usually off in a dark part of it somewhere

- he always listens intently somewhat hoping you might stumble in and find him

- he fights his urges and only masurbates to completion in his favorite spot once a week

- other times he’ll mostly edge himself while showering, but he likes to build it up to make it better

- he doesn’t like it about himself, but he can be very noisy. He goes at a time when he knees Seb won’t walk in, if anyone does it’ll be you

- he makes gasps and groans as he thinks about your mouth, your fingers, your breasts

- with all sense but his eyes being so sensitive he just imagine the different textures and temperatures it would all of

- he picture soft breasts that give way to his cock, rough fingers wrapped him, a silky, hot mouth for him to fuck contrasted with your wet pussy clenched around him and feeling impossibly tight

- he loves thinking about you massaging his balls or his sensitive taint and teasing him about how much it makes him whimper

- he takes his time and it often means speeding up and slowing down to the point of his cock weeping, his own stick pre-cum all over his hand and probably his thighs or trousers too

- when he’s finally ready to let go he shouts quite loud, strangled moans of your name and curse words tumbling out of him

- he tries to contain his mess to his hand, but it all just oozes out because he’s usually got so much fun built up

- he’s messy, loud, and likes to maximize the orgasm to the fullest by trying to hold out until he’s so worked up he can’t take it

Sebastian

- his favorite spot is to get comfortable in his bed

- he uses a silencio charm after closing up all of the curtains

- he does it quite often, maybe almost daily with how desperate he is

- he’ll come back from having hang out with you and be ripping his tie off, pulling at all of his clothes because he can’t get naked fast enough

- he’s thinking about every flash of skin he’s seen from you, a day where you had a particular shirt skirt and you were all thighs

-a day your shirt was big and he got a glimpse at your shoulder, a broader peek at your chest

- Sebastian is really an ass man and heart and just thinks about how lovely it would be for you to be suffocating him with both of your holes just exposed to him

- he flushes but differently than Ominis in that it’s his whole body

- his freckles are peppered over his whole body and the fever from his arousal hair makes his face, neck, shoulders, chest, all of it red

- he’s desperately rutting into his own hand, spit included as he rushes towards the relief that he knows isn’t going to be enough

- he’s murmuring fuck over and over, maybe even little sentences he wish were real “fuck y/n ride me harder” “go faster” “be a good girl for me”

- when he finally cums his facial expression is everything and his whole body spasms, his mouth hanging up, him breathing heavily and tugging at his own sweaty hair

- he’s rougher with himself, he’s full of desperation 24/7 with how much he’s thinking about you, and he wants to take you right in his bed loving the idea of being naked around you when you’re not

#Sebastian sallow #Sebastian sallow smut #ominis gaint #ominis gaunt x reader #ominous gaunt smut #Sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy #Sebastian sallow x mc #ominis gaunt x me #anon #hogwarts legacy headcannon #hogwarts legacy hc

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frannyzooey · 6 months

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Short Days, Long Nights: 15

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, teeny tiny lactation kink, Joel being real cute with a baby is it's own warning

A/N: ❤ thank you one million times over to @the-scandalorian who always give the best feedback and advice, to @the-ginger-hedge-witch who is always the most supportive and a special shout out to @mrsquill whose advice and perspective was much needed, being the big beautiful brain she is.

Joel picks his way through the woods, brushing aside the sprawling branches that reach out to catch his shirt. A small bundle tucked against his chest in a makeshift carrier, he’s got one hand splayed across it, protectively shielding it. His boots crunch over fallen twigs, and from within the folds of fabric, June’s dark eyes look up.

Flitting between staring at him and the contrast of the treetops as she takes in the surroundings, dapples of sunlight shift and play across her small face, light catching the swirls of her dark brown curls. When she starts squirming, Joel looks down and smiles at her.

“You ready to get up, baby girl?”

Shifting her in the wrapped sling to face his chest instead of lying down, he makes sure she’s secure before he continues, giving her his thumb to hold onto. Her tiny, chubby hand wraps halfway around it and letting her squeeze it, he strokes the soft skin on the back of her hand.

Carefully placed steps to avoid tripping on anything, his boots follow his normal hunting path, only this time he’s not hunting: he’s taking her for their daily walk.

Starting as something he’d hoped would calm her down during her early days, he’s taken to walking all over the place with her while you nap in the afternoons. Never far enough that he couldn’t get back quickly if he needed to, they’ve explored every inch of the woods surrounding the cabin. Sometimes she’s fussy, sometimes she’s still, and sometimes - like today - she’s alert and awake, lifting her head off his chest to peek at the world around her.

“You hear that, baby girl? You hear that bird singin’ to you?”

He talks to her without even realizing it, a constant, soothing murmur.

His lips brush the downy crown of her hair, dragging back and forth just to feel the tickle of softness and he presses a kiss there, turning back towards home.

Home.

He’d begun calling it that while talking out loud to her and then kept saying it, because it was true. This was his home, and hers, and yours. One that, even though summer had begun and she was now here, had become impossible to leave.

He had agreed to stay until she was born, but with every day that passed, he couldn’t bring himself to move forward with the plan. Days had slid together, weeks blurring as he helped care for her while you healed and he knew you wouldn’t be able to make the trek then, so he said nothing. Another month passed after that, and he thought about it - he really did - but couldn’t quite reconcile the concept of a potential threat with the present sense of safety. The danger that had seemed so immediate and imminent and threatening had faded into the background, giving way to the quiet routine of life, and the three of you continued on.

The map was still in the cabin, as a reminder of what was waiting out there, but so were other things:

Her, in her cradle in the corner of the room along with the pillowcase that she’s taken to sleeping with, in lieu of a baby blanket.

You, on the living room floor, your smile blinding as you stretched out next to her wriggling body in the afternoons.

Her basket on the edge of your garden: you working, her small fists stretching and flexing towards the sky, visible just over the wicker rim.

For someone who had little to no experience with it, you’d taken to motherhood like you’d done it all before. The birth, nursing, adjusting to a new sleep schedule, learning what every one of her cries meant and just how to soothe it. A seemingly deep reserve of patience held within you, your constant resourcefulness when it came to everything you had both on hand and inside yourself, he finds he loves you even more than he did before.

Constantly impressed and humbled by this new version of you emerging right in front of him, he tries to let you both know how he feels in his own, wordless ways: referring to and respecting your knowledge and guidance when it comes to planting, delicate brushes of his hand on the small of your back while you talk with him in the kitchen, stopping you while you do chores to guide your mouth to his in a kiss of appreciation. Rocking June to sleep when she wakes, washing her clothes in the river, taking her for walks.

So accustomed to thinking of his own body as a weapon, spending years using it as a means of protecting those he loves, he’s found an entirely new use for it right alongside yours: familiar, tender motions he thought were lost coming to the surface.

Emerging from the woods, the familiar slope of your land comes into view and he makes his way down to the edge of the water. His boots sink into the soft give of the sand, a trail of impressions left behind him, and he drops down to a crouch before fully sitting down. Unwinding the fabric tied around his shoulder, he gently eases June out of the carrier.

Delicate yet steady in his hold on her, he props his forearms on his knees and lifts her so they are face to face.

“How much did you sleep last night?” he asks, a deep frown settling between his brows. Dark bags show under his eyes, and she wriggles in his grip, her legs kicking.

“Felt like you didn’t sleep at all. Keepin’ us up all night with your fussin’.”

She pays no mind to the stern look on his face, the gentle tone of his words in contrast with their scolding, and his lips brush against her cheek, her mouth opening to chase his with a babbling, wet sound.

“You’re cute, baby girl, but you ain’t that cute. You gotta let us sleep.”

She lets out a soft cry, and he chuckles.

“Okay, I take it back. You are that cute.”

They look at each other for a moment, her small, dark eyes studying his larger ones and a familiar glint of hazel captures his breath for a moment, his heart seizing.

Identical to Sarah’s color, the likeness flits through them almost faster than he can catch it, though it doesn’t stop him from staring intently at June in hopes of it coming back. She blinks and looks away, her body flexing in a stretch.

“I saw you,” he says quietly, to himself.

June’s eyes come back to him at the sound of his voice, and the corner of his mouth lifts.

“I think your big sister was just sayin’ hi, pretty girl.”

Impossible to ignore since the moment she came into the world and he caught her in his hands, he saw Sarah in June all the time. Every day: sometimes in her eyes, in her expressions, in her movements. He knew June was her own being, a mixture of himself and you that he loved. His eyes, the shape of your face. His dark hair, your smile. But when he caught glimpses of Sarah in her, he immediately chased the fleeting image before he could think about how much it would hurt to see it. Another chance to see her again, at any cost.

Introducing the memory of Sarah to June as her “big sister,” a burden was lifted from his chest the day he started speaking about her. With nothing but the solitude of the woods around them and her tiny ears to hear his words, once he started, he couldn’t stop.

Years of buried memories, of guilt, of confessions and apologies as his heart ached recounting the things he’d done. All of them laid bare to June, who absorbed them with quiet fascination at the low, rumbling voice of her father. The words meaningless to her and received without the judgment of someone who would actually understand what he was saying, everything came pouring out.

Everything he’d done, everything he regretted, everything he missed.

Once those were let out into the world, he focused on the good: Sarah’s love for soccer, for animals, her stubborn streak that matched his own. Her sense of humor, her girliness, vacations they took and their time spent together.

Emerging from the depths he’d buried it under long ago, Sarah’s memory grew stronger every day and he was surprised to find that it hurt… less than it used to. Something he used to avoid due to the sheer pain that would come alongside the memories, he now seeks them out, to relive them in a new light. Basking in this second chance with her, he looks forward to seeing her in any way she appears in this life.

“You think your momma’s up yet?” he asks. “Or should we give her a little bit more time?”

He waits for an answer he knows isn’t coming, but he studies June’s face like it is, eventually answering himself with a nod.

“More time, I think. You’re right.”

Turning her to face the water, he places her in his lap and with sunlight flooding the bank, they sit and look at the water together.

–

You feel as though you could sleep forever.

Your heavy eyes blinking open, you stay in place and listen. Silence, which means they must still be out and rolling onto your side, you sink deeper under the thin quilt. Exhaustion blankets you, pulling your eyes shut.

Tired. So tired, more tired than you’ve ever been in your life. He catches naps whenever he can, seemingly able to fall asleep for a moment whenever and wherever in the way older men do, but not you. Your mind is a constant whirring machine of what needs to be done next and it takes forever to turn off, but last night she was up for ages, and so when he told you to take a nap, you crashed as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Your face brushing the cool cotton of his pillowcase, you bury your nose into it, inhaling. A need flickers to life inside you, slowly unfurling under the heaviness of your limbs and you wish he was lying in bed with you right now.

In the morning sometimes when she’s in her cradle, you tuck your face into the crook of his neck and breathe deeply, letting your lips catch the edge of his whiskers. When you seek out his skin, he rolls to face you with still closed eyes but finds you just the same.

Still, they are kisses that only awaken, never slake. Early morning sleep soft kisses. Warm skin under wandering hands, until she cries. Never any time to linger in the morning, you can still taste the firm press of his mouth against yours if you try hard enough and the memory of yesterday slips into your sleep-hazed mind, the edges fuzzy and soft.

“What’s this for?”, you hummed, leaning back into him.

His mouth rested on your neck, his lips molding to the slope of it. One kiss, another and his tongue slipped out, tasting your skin.

“Jus’ missed you. Thinkin’ about you.”

“Oh yea? What were you thinking about?”

He kissed your neck again, letting his mouth rest just under your ear. “ ‘Bout the other night.”

The other night: when he held his hand over your mouth and worked you with his fingers over your soaked panties until you came with a broken cry, right before kneeling next to you on the bed to watch you jerk him to completion onto your stomach. Afterwards, he smeared it around and you licked the spend from his fingers.

“That was nice,” you smiled, turning to face him. Threading your fingers through his curls, you offered your mouth to him and he took it, his own need apparent in the way it moved against yours—telling and deep.

Just the two of you for so long before June came along, it felt good to be reminded that he still wanted you like that: as a woman, instead of just a mother. The new role unfamiliar and flooded with a constant rollercoaster of shifting emotions, it was hard to navigate this version of yourself, and even harder to articulate those emotions into words. Joy like you’ve never known blended with bone weary exhaustion and pain. A fierce need to prove to yourself that you could do this, while still wanting him to take the lead. A new found self-pride laced with frustration and sadness and an ache for the way your relationship used to be.

All of these emotions, fading away to be replaced by a happiness you never thought possible whenever you looked at June.

He’s helped you navigate it all, just like he’s always helped you navigate: the group when you had one, dangerous routes when you used to take them, this new life when you made the suggestion. Jackson, should he ever bring it up again. The possibility of leaving was something you hoped every day that he’d forgotten about, but you didn’t dare bring up the subject in case he hadn’t. You weren’t ready. Not yet.

With the idea of sleeping on the hard ground making the comforting cloud of your bed hard to leave, you eventually rise and peek out the window in search of them. The broad expanse of his back sits down by the water, and you see him lift her to face him, murmuring words you can’t hear.

A delicacy to his touch and another side to his competence that you’d never have seen without her, Joel Miller the dad was someone you felt lucky to witness, but the thought of Joel Miller the man was the one that had your eyes lingering on his shoulders and the flex of his biceps under the material of his shirt.

Recalling his kiss from earlier that morning, you walk out of the room to go greet them.

–

“How old are you going to be when she’s ten?”

He groans, closing his eyes. “Christ, don’ ask me that.”

You giggle, and he peeks an eye open at you.

“Your daddy is gonna be wearin’ diapers soon,” you coo down at June, and he’s quick with his reply.

“Who says I don’t already?”

Your playful giggle turns into a full laugh.

“Smart-ass,” he grumbles, a good natured grin at the edge of his lips.

He leans back into the worn couch, letting his head tilt to the side as he watches the two of you on the floor in front of him. The days getting longer with the time of year, evening sunlight streams in through the windows you washed earlier that day and its rays fill the room with enough light to see. The windows open, a breeze flows through.

Rolling from your side onto your stomach, his gaze drifts from the curve of your cheek to the small round of your shoulder, to the wide open expression of pure contentment and love on your face as you coo a soothing murmur of nonsense down at June. She eats it up, her limbs kicking in jerky, excited movements in her splay on her back and she is transfixed by your face, alert and focused.

Filled with gratitude, he’s silent for a moment as he just…watches.

Your finger dangles over June’s grasping hand until she takes it and wiggling it with a smile and a tease, you take it from her and dance your fingers down her belly, tickling. Her tiny body kicks in response, never ceasing in its movement.

An overlay of his shitty QZ apartment blankets the room, and he immediately rejects the image, knowing you don’t belong there. The concrete he's slept on and the endless things he’s done to survive flood his mind and a simultaneous reaction wars within him: guilt, at the idea he doesn’t deserve this life after everything he’s done, and the answering fierce urge to defend it, making sure no one ever takes it away from him.

“You thinking about it?”

Your question drags him to the present, and he frowns.

“Leaving,” you clarify. You look down, your expression turning solemn. “You were quiet for a while,” you say quietly. “I thought maybe you finally remembered.”

Reading the tone in which you deliver your hesitant statement as dreading something inevitable, he’s honest in his reply in hopes to soothe you.

“No,” he says. “I actually haven’t thought about it in awhile. Not seriously, anyway.”

Your eyes lift to meet his and the hope you’re trying to conceal in your expression almost breaks him.

“You were right,” he continues. “We got the garden up and runnin’, got everything all setup like we like. Got a safe place for her.” His chin tilts towards June, her fists flailing in exploration until you catch one in your hold.

“And if someone comes?” you broach hesitantly.

His jaw shifts, his eyes drifting down to June. “If someone comes, I’ll deal with ‘em.”

He will.

There is a finality in his tone, even if he isn’t sure it’s a promise he can make, but it feels right saying out loud. You belong here, she belongs here and he can’t let anyone take that away, not even himself.

You say nothing, searching for the truth on his face and when you find it, the edge of your mouth lifts in disbelief.

“Joel Miller, the optimist,” you tease.

Because of you, he immediately thinks. Instead, he teases right back.

“What, you think I can’t?”

You huff a laugh, rolling your eyes. Your playful expression faltering after a moment, your attention shifts to June and a telltale trembling of your lip catches his eye as you avoid his gaze. Knowing you’re purposefully not looking at him because you’re self conscious about how easy it is to make you cry after June’s birth, he leans forward and drops down to join you on the floor.

“Hey,” he says softly, crawling over and reaching out over her body to grasp your chin. “Hey now.”

You let him guide your face to his, and he sees he's right. A tear rolls smoothly down your cheek and his frown softens with his voice.

“I would never let anything happen to you, honey. Either of you.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” you start, your breath shuddering. You swallow and then surprise him with a watery laugh. “I’m not – I’m not scared of that. I’m just –” you sniffle again, blinking free another tear. “I’m just so happy.”

A sob breaks free on the last word and the contrast of your statement with your reaction makes him laugh, which in turn makes you laugh through another sob. Then, a new sound blends into it from beneath the two of you, one that makes you both stop.

“Did she just –” your breathing hitches, and you look from her to him. “Did she just laugh?”

The first time it’s ever happened, she does it again when you laugh in astonished, watery joy and it only makes you sob harder, tucking your face into the crook of your elbow.

“She’s laughin’ at you,” he chuckles, splaying his hand wide over her belly, grinning down at her with deep dimples.

Taking a deep breath and wiping your eyes on your sleeve, you smile down at June.

“Your daddy is gonna let us stay,” you say to her, your voice thick with tears and joy as you sniff again.

“Only ‘cause your momma has made us such a good home.”

Teasing words covering true, deep emotions, he looks at you and with tears still clinging to your wet lashes, he thinks you might be one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen. So much love shines through your gaze that the intensity of it is almost overwhelming, but he doesn’t look away. He meets it, unwavering.

“Joel,” you start, slipping your hand over his where it still rests on her belly, covering it with a squeeze. “If you ever want to go, I’ll go. I’d follow you wherever. Here, Jackson, somewhere else. Anywhere else. I trust you.”

Not trusting himself to speak without his voice breaking, he just lifts the corner of his mouth and nods before bending his head to press a kiss to the back of your hand.

A silent devotional action, to the one who has given him everything.

Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, you go back to trying to make June laugh and he watches the two of you from his place on the floor, stretched out alongside you.

How could he leave?

—

Attempting to summon the courage while tugging at the silken fabric to make sure it covers all the parts of yourself that you are unsure of, you stare at your reflection in the mirror; his low singing voice coming from June’s room.

All day, you’ve secretly ached for him.

A fire ignited every time you saw him with her: holding her, cradling her, one hand across her chest as she slept next to him on the couch while he read. And without: the short, dark strands of hair at the nape of his tanned neck, the little slice of skin above the waistband of his jeans that peeked out when he crouched. His thick forearms, his firm thighs.

An ache that had been present since you woke up this morning, you’ve missed the man he is: his body, his skillful touch, his masculine, solid form moving against yours. A while since she’s gone down this early, you want to take advantage of the gift of time and show him how much you’ve missed him…but there is still a slight insecurity about this changed body of yours.

Smoothing your hands over the lace that rests over your cleavage as you look some more, the soft scuff of his boots across the floor as he enters the bedroom has you immediately second guessing, quickly turning for your robe.

“She went down okay,“ he says tiredly, scrubbing his hand down his face. He tugs his shirt off with a one handed hold behind his back, kicking off his boots while unbuckling his jeans. Shucking them off to drape them over the chair in the corner, he looks up at your silence.

Frozen in front of him, your hands clutch the robe together.

“You okay?” he asks, his tired expression knit with concern.

“That was quicker than I thought.”

He huffs, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I’m not complain’.”

“Neither am I, I just –” your hands fiddle with the thick material, your teeth tugging on your bottom lip. “I just wasn’t ready for you.”

Studying your face, he tilts his head up, lifting an eyebrow. “Ready for me?” His eyes drop down your body, his posture straightening with interest. “You got somethin’ under there?”

You hesitate for a moment. “Turn out the light first?”

His eyes darken at your answer and he slowly leans to the side, reaching to turn the lantern down. The room descends into a shadowed version of itself, everything bathed in dim warmth and he settles back into position, waiting.

Taking a deep breath and feeling braver in the darkness of the room, you open the robe and let it fall to the floor.

“What’s all this?” he asks, his husky drawl low and slow.

Stepping between his thighs, you take his larger hand in your smaller one and place it over your side, encouraging him to touch. He splays his fingers, searching for the heat of your skin through the thin material and gliding his hold up until his thumb drags lightly across your nipple, his eyes watch as it pebbles under the silk. Arching slightly into his touch, he takes your lead and tenderly palms the weight of your breast.

Hooded, his eyes stay fixed on his hand. “Where did you get this?”

“I found it months ago,” you reply, your tone breathy and warm from the delicate brush of his fingertips over the fabric.

He hums, letting his hand drag down your sternum with weighted exploration, curling firmly around your hip to pull you closer.

“Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” he asks in disbelief, immediately looking up at you. He bunches the silk in his fists, pulling it tight against your body. His throat bobs, his tongue dragging across his bottom lip as his eyes make a circuit down the length of you and back up.

“My pretty girl, all dressed up for me. How could I not?”

Bending down for a kiss, you place your hands on his shoulders and the hunger in the way he presses his mouth against yours betrays every thought running through his mind. Suddenly more awake than he seemed, he can’t stop shifting his hold on you: his mouth taking and taking, while his hands touch everything he can reach.

When they get to the hem of the nighty and pull it up over your ass, he groans into your mouth when he finds nothing but bare skin underneath.

“Nothin’ underneath? You’re such a good fuckin’ girl,” he breathes against your mouth, right before capturing it again in a devouring kiss. Leaving you breathless, he follows the column of your throat with a whiskery scrape of his beard against your skin, and works his way down, his humid breath ghosting over the tops of your breasts as he gives every inch of skin he finds an open mouthed kiss.

Slipping the shoulder strap down, the fabric falls away and he takes your nipple into his mouth immediately. Letting out a low moan with a pinched frown of pleasure, his eyes close and he draws from you: his hand coming up to cradle the underside of your breast, pushing more into his mouth as he swirls his tongue over the sensitive peak. His other hand digs into the curve of your hip, keeping you in place. Holding on, like you’re the anchor.

Your fingers bury themselves in his soft curls, and he groans. Pulling back, a glimmer of something white is smeared on his lower lip, and his tongue darts out to taste the drop of liquid.

“Takin’ care of my baby, with this perfect fuckin’ body.”

Soaked in worship, his words have you climbing onto his lap as he guides you in place and gathering you into his arms, he tugs your knee up to force you into a straddle over his thighs. Deepening his kiss with an inviting, slick slide of his tongue against yours, a low hum pours out of your throat and you grind against him, seeking the warm heft between his thighs until he shifts and rolls you onto your back, laying you out underneath him.

His humid breath consumes you, the scent of his skin filling your senses. The firm rounds of his shoulders bunch under your touch, his biceps flexing in their strain as he moves above you and his solid torso presses against yours, forcing you into the mattress. His mouth never ceases and neither does yours, every part of your bodies seeking the other out to move in a mimic of the act itself and winding your legs around his waist, he grinds himself against you until you’re whiny and restless underneath him, your cunt slick and soaked against his cotton briefs. When you start to shove them down his hips, he helps.

Tugging them down and kicking them off, his cock drags along the inside of your thigh when he lowers himself back over you.

“I need you inside me,” you moan, reaching for him. “I want it.”

“Yea? You want my cock?”

“I’ve wanted it all day. All day while I’ve watched you.”

His hand joins yours to guide him to your aching entrance, and when the thick, rounded tip of his cock starts to make room for itself, you let out simultaneous groans of relief when he slides in. A singular smooth, filling and fluid stroke, all the way to the base.

“God yes, just like that,’ you plead, and he’s quick to soothe.

“Shhhh, it’s okay, my girl. I got you. I got you.”

Your mind already lost in a haze of need, the whole-body relief you feel is intoxicating, and yet his fullness inside you is only half of what you want. You want to feel desired, like he wants you just as bad as you’ve wanted him and to feel it, you know you need his roughness. The harder edges of his lust, the ones he’s been holding back from you since you gave birth.

You want to taste desperation in his kisses, to feel it in his hold, to have him force it into the slick fist of your cunt because he just can’t help it - and you get what you want the second he starts moving.

“I can’t believe you wore this for me,” he breathes above you, his hand catching the edge of the silk to pull it down and expose both your breasts. He watches them bounce for a moment, moving with every thrust of his hips and then he bends to latch his mouth onto one, the hard suction of it making you moan. Cradling the back of his head, you push yourself into the sensation.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, and all mine. All for me. Ain’t that right?”

His hips rock against yours, the tip of his cock sliding against that deep spot that’s been aching for him all day and you push your head back into the pillow, forcing your hips up to meet every one of his downward strokes.

“God yes,” you pant. “All yours. Only yours.”

“S’fuckin right. My girl. Lookin’ this pretty just for me.”

He brings his mouth down next to your ear as his hips keep moving. “Pussy this wet, just for me.”

You nod, and fitting his face into your neck, he rewards you an open mouthed kiss laced with a groan. He sucks at your skin, his teeth dragging over your pulse and then his mouth finds yours, forcing it open just like he’s forcing you open to take everything he’s giving. Every weighted stroke, every full push inside.

You like his words, but you like this just as much: when he’s so focused on how you feel around him and underneath him that he can’t speak, and you get to swallow his harsh pants and low grunts instead.

Your thighs hitch higher around his torso, your ankles resting on his back and you can feel his muscles shift and flex under your heels, working, working, working. The intensity of your release builds, a fire that’s been banked all day finally being stoked brighter and hotter and he picks up his pace, his arm pushing underneath your back to hook his hand around your shoulder, keeping you in place beneath him. Buried under the weight of his body, you relish being used.

Still just as sensitive as when you were pregnant, fast - so fast - you feel the first ripple of your oncoming release wash over your skin.

“You’re gonna make me come,” you plead, trying to keep quiet.

“Come on, honey,” he encourages it, pressing a thick kiss just under your ear. “Lemme feel it.”

Everything tightening between your hips, a syrupy warmth fills the bowl of your pelvis until it’s too intense and overwhelming and filling — and then it bursts bright and wet, your thighs squeezing his torso as he grunts through every rough stroke that sees you through it.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl,” he groans before kissing you. He pushes in harder, faster, pounding into the slick fist of your sated cunt.

“You want another one?” he asks, breathless and panting, the curl of a smug smile at the edge of his mouth. “Think you can do it again?”

You can’t speak, your mouth parted in a fixed shape as you focus on how he feels inside you right now and when he slips a hand underneath your tailbone to angle you just right, he focuses his strokes downward, causing you to cry out.

“Shhhh, honey. S’okay. You can take it. Gimme another one.”

His voice is lost in the fuzzy edges of your mind, the only thing coming through the soothing tone as he makes you take what he’s giving and when you start to lock up underneath him again, the smile on his face this time is more apparent than the first one. When you start to come, he looks almost proud.

Your nails dig into the meat of his ass, forcing him deeper and he bends and bites the underside of your breast as he picks up his pace. His hands bunching in the sheets, he fucks you harder, faster, and when his hips begin to stutter in their rhythm, you know he’s close.

“Goddamnit,” he groans when you come around him, never stilling in his movement above you.

Frantically needing him to feel as good as he just made you feel, you dig your hold into the meat along his ribs and hold him in place above you, your hips pushing up to work against his. Matching his every stroke down with your own, his eyes shut tight against the sensation he tries not to give into.

“I’m gonna come inside you if you don’t stop,” he warns, the words a tortured groan.

Knowing you can’t do that, you move quickly underneath him, pushing your hands against his chest until he lifts just enough for you to frantically slide down the bed. His slick, stiff cock drags up your belly and along the plane of your chest, brushing against your chin right before you take it into your mouth and when you wrap your lips around it with a firm suck, the groan he lets out is loud and involuntary, his hips bucking forward.

His hand buries itself into your hair, his fist pulling painfully at the roots when he pushes himself in down to the base and you feel his belly jerk with a tremble right before he pours hot and sticky along the back of your tongue. His release is endless, filling your mouth as he stretches out rigid next to you and you swallow every single drop, your throat working as you hold him close.

Working the dregs of it out with a slow roll of his hips into your face, you finally pull off when he relaxes into the mattress with a soft groan. Peppering kisses along the tops of his thighs, you slowly ascend the body you’ve been aching for all day and his hands run lazily over your skin, making room for you to crawl into bed beside him.

“That was…somethin’,” he sighs, a slow spreading smile gracing his face when he turns his head to look at you and you prop yourself up on your elbow, running your fingers through the hair just under his navel.

Catching your hand, he brings it to his mouth with a kiss.

Laying in silence together, the sounds of the night filter in through the open window on the soft breeze that tickles your sweat damp skin. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent you’d been dreaming about all day straight from the source and your bodies slowly relax together, entwined.

When you feel his breathing even out into a slow rise and fall, you peek up at his face. Taking a moment to admire the profile of his nose, his long dark lashes, the gray gathered at his temples, you run the pad of your thumb across his bottom lip in a feather light touch. In his sleep, his lips purse as they chase the sensation and you smile, the movement so like June when you do the same thing to her.

Leaning forward to give him one last kiss, you reach over him and turn out the light.

#joel miller #joel miller/you #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader

1K notes · View notes

cherigu · 9 months

Text

— ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ All Mine!

Paring: dom!jk x sub!reader Genre: smut, ex2l Word Count: 4.7k Warnings: f*ngering, orgsm denial, praise, finger scking, unprtected pnetrative s*x, very jealous jk

The hardships of adulting have yet to receive their justice, as people only ever tend to talk about the good parts. Everyone deals with it differently, whether by coping healthily or downright ignoring it. Maybe that’s why no one ever talks about how hard it is, they’re too busy coping to warn you.

Your friend group was an exception of some sort, choosing to land right in the middle of the two options. Their idea of unwinding was a night out with a side of drinks.

You knew that joining them wouldn’t be the best option for your well-being. He always knew how to get on your last nerve without even speaking to you.

The shit-eating grin he’d throw you across the club because he knew you were eyeing him down. It’s not like you had much control over what caught your attention.

That stupid Calvin Klein shirt, you had once loved so much, the brand also peeking out from his baggy jeans on the waistband of his boxers. Sleeves folded upward to expose more of his tattoos, dark ink contrasting with the dark fabric of his clothes.

And finally, the curly locks of fluffy brown hair that fell atop his face, slightly covering those big, bright doe eyes that would darken in jealousy as the night went on.

“y/n, baby, you’re here” Jennie called out as you made your way to the full table, watching her stand up to greet you with a quick hug. You waved to everyone, saying a quick greeting before Jennie stopped you from going towards the seats.

“Not too quick, give us a spin” She held your hand and turned you, whistling as you gave her a 360 of your look.

“So beautiful, it’ll be a shame if no one takes you to their place tonight.” she winked, making you giggle at her compliment. You didn’t dress up for anyone, in particular, tonight but rather took the opportunity of a night out to put the club dresses to use.

The skimpy black dress did a poor job of covering anything up, from the low v-neck that showed off more than enough cleavage, to the backless cut that exposed the small of your waist from behind.

Your plump ass was threatening to spill from the glittery material, thick thighs out on full display for everyone. You’d for sure steal hearts tonight, and maybe a one-night stand if you had just enough liquid courage.

“The only person I’d let take me home is you, Jen” You teased back cheekily, finally following her to the sofa seats circling the table. “Don’t play, ‘cause you know I’ll do it” She half-seriously warned, dropping back onto her seat and picking up a shot from the table.

You scanned the seats around the table for a vacant spot, not only landing your gaze on Jeongguk’s scrutinizing stare but also on the only two empty seats.

One is next to Jeongguk, and the other is next to Hyunjin. To protect your peace tonight you’d choose the latter, although you knew there was no way to guarantee that as long as Jeongguk was present.

But you were petty after all, and you loved to push his buttons just as much as he loved to push yours. Hyunjin was an attractive dude, not as hot as Jeongguk, but he’d do it for the night, especially being in the same friend group.

Looking past his great looks, he was annoying and too far up his ass for your own good. Absolutely not your type of man, but definitely someone that would grind Jeongguk’s gears.

The two of you had a long streak of being on and off, currently broken up after a stupid argument you quite frankly don’t remember how it started. At least you knew it ended in you storming out of his apartment and swearing you’d never speak to him again.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ୨୧ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

“You always fucking do this Jeongguk” You raised your voice, walking out of his bedroom into the kitchen for some space. You might as well have stayed in the room, though, as he followed right behind you anyway.

“And you don’t? The only reason you don’t realize it is because I never bitch and whine about it, unlike you” He stared at your frame as you quickly turned around, walking towards him with your finger pointed in his direction.

“Because there is nothing to bitch and whine about, anything I do will never be nearly half as bad as the shit you always pull on me” Shoving your finger in his chest, you hear him scoff.

“Why don’t you leave then? If you think I’m such a horrible person why don’t you get your shit and get out of here, huh?"

“Y’know what, I will!”

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ୨୧ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

And with that, you turned towards the living room. Anger flooding the room and making its way inside your system, turning every moment after that into a blur. From the rapidness in which you snagged your keys off the keyholder, to the loud bang of the door as you slammed it shut.

You don’t even remember how you got to Jennie’s house after that, all you know is that she nervously stood outside the guest room in confusion at the lack of sobs coming from your side.

She would’ve expected to hear a few cries, especially after how angrily she had heard you tell her he was dead to you. But this had become a normal experience, not even worth the tear-shed at this point.

So here you were now, only 2 shots into the night and already flirty for a reason. Your sweet giggles at Hyunjin’s compliments had him pulling you close enough to have you practically sitting on his lap. Normally, you’d be rolling your eyes and walking away at this point, but you had an unofficial mission.

You took advantage of the situation and increased the skin-ship between the two of you. A delicate hand grazing over the undone buttons of his exposed chest and your body leaning towards his own just enough to be in his embrace.

Given the woozy state of the two of you, both had grown bold throughout the night. “You’re so sweet” You fake-smiled at him as his hand trailed further up your thigh, resting right where your dress ended to rub his thumb along your soft skin.

“It’s true, you look gorgeous tonight. Bet it was all for me, hm?” He asked with the familiar cockiness in his tone.

You responded with a coy smile, slowly inching towards his ear, “That's for you to decide, are you worthy of it?” you whispered, dropping a daring kiss to the side of his neck.

You felt his hand drop to the side of your thigh and travel upwards, landing right on the swell of your ass before giving it a tight squeeze. “Let me prove it to you.”

If you weren’t so caught up in your act, you would’ve noticed the flare in Jeongguk’s nostrils as he downed another shot. He didn’t care that the two of you weren’t technically together, you were only his to have.

He’d be damned if another man did so much as look at you a certain way, so for Hyunjin to have you the way he did right now, you might as well take him right in front of Jeongguk and it’d have the same effect.

Rage coursed through his veins, traveling up to his brain and consuming every last of his emotions. His clenched jaw matched his balled fists as he fought the urge to just get up and rock his shit in front of everyone. That way, anyone who even planned to speak to you would know the consequences.

“Yo” Mingyu nudged him, “Can you make it any more obvious?” He teased, nodding his head to where you and Hyunjin were, only to drop the smile quickly when he realized Jeongguk didn’t laugh. His burning stare never left the two of you, shamelessly feeling each other up without any regard for the rest of the table.

Jennie was quick to catch on, not really paying any more attention to her conversation with Wendy anymore. After overhearing Mingyu’s comment, she turned over to Jeongguk who looked like he was ready to jump out of his seat.

“Alright enough drinks, let’s go dance” She got up, motioning her hands for everyone to get up onto the dance floor to which everyone complied. Except for an obvious one, Jeongguk, who strayed from the mob and ran off to a place only he’d know.

The dance floor was packed with hot bodies secreting the gross stench of sweat mixed with alcohol. The crowd left no room for proximity, forcing your body to press up against Hyunjin’s. Without Jeongguk in sight, you couldn’t even force yourself to keep up the act.

But after a few dances and what felt like forever, you finally located his tall frame amongst the sea of people. As if on cue, you pressed your black flush against Hyunjin’s chest, loosely enveloping your arms around his neck. You moved your hips to the beat, softly grinding yourself in contact with his body.

The sensuality of your moves made him grip your waist and match your movements, gaze entirely fixed on you and unaware of the burning eye contact you held with Jeongguk across the club.

It was like seeing a direct reflection of yourself, replacing Hyunjin with Jeongguk and you with a random girl. An arrogant smirk grew on Jeongguk’s face when you dropped your vision to the blonde girl, shooting daggers when she annoyingly arched her back against Jeongguk’s body.

Truth be told, he couldn’t care less about who was pressing their ass against his crotch right now. If it wasn’t you, he wouldn’t react. All he wanted to do was chip at your walls, and see how easily you’d crumble when you catch him playing a fair game.

Suddenly not in the mood, you pause your movements when the song comes to an end, quickly excusing yourself from Hyunjin and heading toward the bathroom.

Jeongguk wasted no time in departing from the girl, eager to chase after you but quickly losing you after the obnoxious voice and short frame obstructed his path.

“Where are you going?” She whined while pouting, making Jeongguk’s nose crinkle in disgust. “Bathroom” He dryly responded, eyes scanning the room for any sign of his pretty, but oh-so-bratty girl.

He attempted to move, only to end up in the same place as before since the girl refused to move, tugging on his arm. “Can you at least give me your number, in case I lose you?” She batted her eyelashes in a failed attempt to charm him.

“Like hell, I would. Move lady.” He quickly responded, slightly pushing her aside once she didn’t bother to resist. No other girl other than you would ever have his phone number, you’re the only one who would ever need it, and the only one he’d respond to.

He freed himself from the situation and rapidly approached the bathroom hall where he spotted you disappearing into. Once caught up, he followed you into the bathroom, swiftly pushing both of your bodies inside and locking the door with a hurried motion to avoid anyone noticing.

“Jeongguk what th-” He cut your question short by pressing his long digit against your lips, emitting a demanding shush before departing from you to check the stalls.

Once confirming it was empty, he leaned back against the wall, slightly chuckling at your angry stance with your arms crossed over your chest.

“So, are you done with your whole theater?” He asked smugly, watching a wave of panic flash through your eyes, leaving just as fast as it came.

“Are you drunk? What are you talking about?” You huffed defensively.

“You seemed pretty bored dancing with him when you thought I wasn’t watching” He paused, “Then all of a sudden you throw yourself onto him when you saw me, gonna tell me tonight isn’t an act?”

“You’re fucking crazy. I don’t know what you’re talking about, just let me go”

Despite the blaring music outside, the bathroom fell so silent you’d be able to hear a pin drop. Your eyes met his face before switching to his arms, and then to the door next to him.

The air that came out of his nose resembled a laugh, a mocking one at that when he noticed you connecting the dots.

“ ‘M not holding you back, or blocking the door. The only grasp you’re fighting against is your own, baby” And just like that, every wall you worked so hard to build tonight, came crashing down like a ton of bricks.

You could lie to yourself and be in denial all you wanted, but at the end of the day, there was a reason you only put up the act while Jeongguk was looking. You wanted him to feel jealous, to make him miss you as much as you did him.

Despite the petty arguments and fights, Jeongguk would forever be the man you are willing to come back to a million times over again. And each of those million times would always be worth it.

He began to step closer to you, “I’ll give you an option right now. You can either choose to leave,” His body was centimeters away from being fully pressed up against you, making you feel the heat radiating off of his body on your exposed skin.

He brought a gentle finger up to your chin, lifting your face to look up at him as he spoke his last words, “Or stay”

Your voice failed to reach your throat, parting your lips only to hear nothing come out of them. The scent of his cologne filled your nostrils and vanished every last bit of sanity you had in you. Your voice was barely audible, coming out as a whisper at best. “Wanna stay.”

The two rings on the corner of his mouth danced as his lips curled into a devilish grin, bringing the pad of his thumb to brush your bottom lip.

“That’s a good girl” He whispered. His words entered your system and wasted no time shooting straight to your core, dissolving into pure arousal that dripped from your empty hole.

He pressed his body onto yours, making you lean back into the sink that dug into your back. He positioned his knee in between your legs and pressed against your core, making you mewl at the much-needed friction. You instinctively leaned in to kiss him, furrowing your brows in confusion when you felt the lack of warmth on your lips.

“You think you deserve my lips after yours were on someone who wasn’t me?” He tutted, raising his knee farther up to raise your dress. You weakly moved your head from side to side, suddenly feeling extreme regret for all of your senseless acts tonight.

“Do you think you deserve my touch at all..?” He asked as he felt your hips slowly begin to grind down on his thigh, feeling a slight dampness soak through his jeans.

“N-no, but I wan’ it”

“Then beg for it, princess”

You whined in a complaint, “Can’t always give you everything you want. That's how spoiled brats are made, you gotta use your manners” He hummed to quickly shut down your protests.

“Please, gukkie, p-please touch me”

His hand trailed lower down your body, landing his large hand on your thigh. “Where do you want me to touch you?” He teased, moving his hand involuntarily when you took it upon yourself to pick it up and place it over your clothed core, “Here..”

He groaned at the feel of the drenched lace. He rubbed the sticky fluids over the soft material of your panties, gaining a high-pitched moan from you as the pleasure began to travel throughout your body. His fingers rubbing circles on your clothed core combined with the friction of your panties to make your tummy grow ablaze.

The heat was quick to cool down momentarily when he halted his movements to peel off the underwear from your body, letting it pool around your ankles.

“Be good for me and don’t cum til I say so, yeah?”

“Mhmm” you hummed in agreement.

You watched as his tattooed hand dipped between your thighs, connecting the pads of his middle and ring finger against your puffy clit and beginning to rub figure 8’s on the swollen skin. The glint of the silver band wrapped around his digit glowed underneath the light, making you inevitably look down.

Desperation to feel him overcame your body, biting down on your cherry lips to hold back from catching an attitude with him, knowing he’d be cruel enough to leave you hot and bothered for the rest of the night if you didn't take what he gave.

He swiveled his fingers further down and prodded your aching hole with a finger to tease you, circling your entrance before moving inside.

He started with lazy movements to prep you for the second finger he wasted no time in adding once your body was relaxed enough.

His fingers slightly curled inwards as he fully entered your core, pulling a soft whimper out of you when you felt the coolness of his rings come in contact with your hot folds.

“Sensitive, hm?” He smiled and watched you nod, too needy to even speak. You felt full from two fingers already, and you knew it’d be nothing compared to his cock.

You pushed your body further down to help his fingers reach impossibly deeper inside you. The desire to feel every part of him fill you up was overwhelming, causing your hips to begin feverishly grinding down on his fingers.

“Mmm,” you moaned out, “Feel so full, wan’ feel good.”

Jeongguk’s pupils dilated at your neediness for him. You were already submitting yourself to him so well after only having used his fingers, which was the most exciting reminder that you did in fact love the way he made you feel. No one would be able to compare to how good he was with your body.

“Be patient, love. I’ll take care of you”

He began to set a stable pace while watching his fingers pump in and out of your leaking hole, creating a squelching sound due to the fluid fighting against his fingers to roll down your thighs.

“So wet baby..” He groaned.

“Just for y-you” You heaved, heavily exhaling from your mouth from the pleasure as you continued to rock your hips back and forth to match the speed.

“Yea?” He smugly smirked as he picked up the pace, scissoring his fingers to stretch out your plush walls and find the gummy tissue inside of you, “This pussy’s all for me?”

“Oh fuck— yea! All for you, just for you” You babbled.

The mix of his rapid movements and the repeated stimulation of your sweet spot had you rolling your eyes back, tightening your grip on the porcelain sink behind you as you fought to keep your wobbly legs from giving out.

He watched as you threw your head back and tightened your thighs around his moving hand. Your walls pulsed around his curled fingers as you felt your high rapidly approach you due to his relentless movements. The knot in your stomach was dangerously close to bursting, so much so that you even began to hear the ringing in your ears.

“Shit— ah, gukkie! ‘m so close” Losing all composure, you began to mindlessly beg for release while you barely held on to hold it back as per instruction.

And just as you were on the verge of tipping over, Jeongguk seized his fingers from your body completely, eliciting a loud whine from your swollen lips.

The protest was short-lived as Jeongguk was quick to raise his fingers to your mouth, tapping twice and leaving the residue of your fluids on your lips.

“Suck” He ordered, pushing his fingers inside of your mouth as he felt your tongue roll around them. Once sucked clean, he pulled back his digits with a small pop of your lips that quickly melted back to an upset pout.

“Want you to cum around my cock, princess” He manhandled your body on top of the sink counter and landed a slap to the side of your thigh, helping you sit comfortably because he knew the last thing you’d be able to do is stand after he was done with you. “You gonna let me?” He asked, to which you quickly responded with a yes.

You admired his physique as he worked quickly to unzip his jeans once he heard your answer, pulling his underwear along with the pants in a quick motion. His painfully erect cock stood tall and proud with drops of precum sitting prettily on the slit, ready to bury itself inside of your heat.

Your eyes fought to decide what to focus on as you watched Jeongguk’s inked hand snuggly wrap around his cock, fisting it a few times to coat the shaft with his natural lube.

On the other hand, his beautiful face was slightly scrunched in pleasure, knitted eyebrows sitting atop his shut eyes as he concentrated on pumping himself in preparation.

“Shit” His parted lips allowed the quiet puffs and hisses to escape from his mouth, quickly pressing it shut once he was ready to be inside of you.

You parted your legs slightly in eagerness to feel him inside of you, letting him align his engorged tip on your hole. “T-too big” you whined when he pushed in.

“ ‘s only the tip, baby” He never stopped sinking himself deeper, “I know you can take it, my sweet girl” And with that, he bottomed out, enjoying your beautiful moans as you adjusted to his girthy size. Your legs wrapped around Jeongguk’s waist not only for support but to pull his body closer to yours.

His hands formed a steady grip on your thighs and began to move his hips rhythmically, soaking in the growing sound of skin slapping as well as the feel of your juices coating his flexed thighs.

His breathing grew shaky when he decided to look down at where your bodies met, his cock perfectly fitting into your tight and pretty pussy. “Oh, yes, yes, yes” Your lips trembled as the string of yesses spilled from your mouth.

“Fuck” He tugged on his bottom lip with his teeth. “Such a perfect cunt” His voice is heavy with lust, working the obscene words towards the heat pooling in your belly once again.

“Mhmm, you fuck me so good- ahh” Your voice got stuck in his throat when he delivered a particularly hard thrust. “Yea? Only I can fuck you like this, hm?”

By this point, he was now pounding into your pussy mercilessly, almost as if he was trying to get his point across. “Say it baby, say ‘m the only one who fucks you this good”

It was hard to speak when Jeongguk was drilling his dick into your insides, rubbing all of your sweet spots at once and successfully knocking all of the thoughts out of your head. “O-only you… Fuck me t-this good, only you Jeongguk”

You felt his dick throb inside of you in satisfaction with the words that came out of your mouth, motivating him to further defend his point. “Princess like you needs a man to fuck her right, yea? Not a little boy.”

Your orgasm was approaching quickly, as was his. “Tell me, would Hyunjin fuck you silly like I do? Hm? Tell me, baby” His tone was soft, not comforting soft, but more like the calm before a storm.

He expressed his underlying anger through his movements, becoming more erratic at the thought of any other man having you spread out for them.

“ ‘m yours gukkie, no one else’s ” The pain of holding back your orgasm began to become unbearable, causing your eyes to screw shut to avoid the tears falling.

“Thats right, no one else can know your body like I do, touch you like I do, have you all spread out ‘n pretty like I do” His hips began to stutter in movement but never failed to deliciously stimulate your insides, “No one– fuck, can love you like I do”

Your eyes shot open at his foreign-feeling words after not hearing them for a while. Tears from the stimulation fell from your glossy eyes onto your pink flushed cheeks, and even with mascara running down them, Jeongguk still thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world. He’d die before he’d ever lose you without a fight.

“Can cum now baby, cum with me” His breathy voice lingered in your ears, feeling his hips ram into your own one last time before his thrusts became slow and sharp.

“Look at me when you do” He used one of his free hands to gently wipe away the hair that stuck to the thin layer of sweat on your forehead.

He stared deeply into your eyes lovingly, letting you know how much you truly mean to him despite the obstacles that come across too often. “I l-love you, love you, so much” you whispered through shallow pants.

“Don’t stop— ‘m coming Jeongguk, please, right th-ere, Oh fuck” You finally relaxed your tense body and allowed yourself to tip over the edge, feeling Jeongguk pound himself into you as he pumped his long ropes of white cum deep inside. “That’s right, princess. Cum for me, shit”

The white light consumed your entire vision, being able to see nothing but Jeongguk’s adoring gaze as you fell apart beneath him. His whiny groans went up a few octaves in your ears as his own high washed over him.

Your orgasms came in sync, allowing the two of you to experience an elevated state of euphoria together. Your heat swallowed his twitching cock repeatedly into your throbbing hole while you rode out your highs.

He admired the way your pretty face melted into pleasure as you came, mouth agape and so inviting for him to press his lips against, and he just couldn't hold back.

He caught your plump lips in his, taking his time in savoring your taste while he slowly began to decrease the speed of his pumps before softly pulling out.

The post-orgasm haze began to hit you hard, making your limbs feel like jelly and giving you the extreme desire to hold Jeongguk close.

You knew that if you held him now, you'd stick by him all the way to his apartment. While it didn't seem like a bad idea at the moment, you knew that you needed to be more level-headed to begin approaching this situation.

While you caught your breath, he took a second to admire the collective mess the two of you had made, a combination of your fluids pooled at your entrance and threatening to spill.

He used a single digit to push the mix of release back inside of your abused cunt, earning a small no more Jeongguk, before retrieving it.

“Just making sure nothing goes to waste” He bent down to wrap his fingers around the thin lace material of your panties, sliding them back towards your hips to cover you up.

“It's gonna run down my thighs, gukkie” You jutted out your bottom lip slightly, “At least everyone will know you have someone who fucks you right” He cockily smiled, landing a kiss on the crown of your head.

“Not funny, 's not like anyone would want to approach me while I look like this anyway” You pointed to your sex hair and smeared mascara. “Bet that guy Hyunjin would anyway, probably still waiting on you right now too”

“Quiet” The sound of skin-on-skin contact mixed with the sound of Jeongguk chuckle, earning a slap to his bicep at the Hyunjin mention. As much as you’d like to forget and move on, you knew he was most likely still waiting for you.

“Hmm, y’know what?” He looked down at his spread-out hand, sliding off the band of silver from his pointer finger, reaching out to take your hand in his. “What are you doing?” You questioned only to earn no response as he simply continued to transfer the jewelry onto your ring finger.

“There you go, now he’ll even know you already have someone who loves you right too.”

And if it wasn't the disheveled hair or slight sheen coating your inner thighs, it’d be the JK initials that sit so perfectly around your ring finger that’d let anyone in the club, especially Hyunjin, know that you weren’t alone.

“You’re all mine.”

A/N: who caught the seven references 🙈

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mymegumi · 4 months

Text

I JUST WANT YOU (FOR MY OWN) ෆ KAMO CHOSO

⠀ warnings: no jujutsu au, situationship/fwb to lovers

⠀ event masterlist ෆ

“please, please stop telling yuuji to do his mariah carey impression, i can only handle so much of his screeching.” you moan, hands over your ears as you tread up the stairs of choso and itadori’s shared apartment. the pink-haired male is still happily singing along to the woman’s christmas hit, but at a much farther distance away so you can hardly hear it now.

“i wouldn’t have had to do that if you didn’t eat the last cookie from yesterday night.” choso says, peeking his head out from the hallway at the top of the stairs, eyebrow raised as he gives you an accusing look. “i even said i was saving it.”

“okay,” you mutter, swiping at his knee playfully as you walk past him to his bedroom, “calling dibs on it while i’m not around means nothing to me.”

choso is sprawled out on the bed when you reach his bedroom, the walls a contrasting dark blue to the light beige carpeting. his bedsheets are, as men are so often predictable, a dark navy with the odd pairing of gray pillowcases. there’s a collection of random objects and souvenirs living on his nightstand, but also scattered among them are your own things, as you’ve come to spend just as much time at choso’s apartment as your own.

“yeah,” he mutters, “well, i didn’t think you were heartless. taking a man’s cookie like that.”

you laugh, falling onto his body and relishing in the way his arms wind around your waist, holding you to him as he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder.

it’s strange—your not-quite relationship with choso. since the two of you have known each other, you’ve been magnets that just couldn’t stay away from one another, and yet neither of you have ever labeled what you were. there was exclusivity in your situation, but there wasn’t a label. you’d only sleep with him and vice versa, and yet there was no girlfriend-boyfriend feeling, no security in the fact that he could technically walk away from you at any minute.

you sigh softly, burying your face in his neck just enjoying the musky smell of him when you feel him shuffle a bit, as if moving to reach something. “you okay? want me to move?”

you can feel, more than you can see, him shake his head, body moving ever so slightly as you feel his hand come up to rest on the back of your head. “you’re okay, don’t worry.”

content to keep your wandering mind to yourself for once, you close your eyes sleepily as you imagine he’s on his phone doing who knows what. there was a point that you had worried maybe he was texting other girls, trying to find a connection that felt better than yours, but there was too much else to be worrying about—other things that required your time and energy and honestly, protecting your peace felt good. not stressing about his every move and his loyalty as a man that wasn’t truly yours was a lot nicer than being anxious about it. instead, you just wanted to enjoy his warmth and listen to his heart beating instead.

it’s this feeling, the feeling of the steady thump of his heart, that lulls you into a light sleep. dancing across your eyelids are you and choso, hands laced and heads pressed together as you laugh and whisper softly, secrets and joys shared between you both.

with a light jostling, choso wakes you with a soft ‘hey’ and unknown amount of time later. blinking, you look up at him as he presents something to you, a small velvet box with cursive gold embossment on the top of it. it makes your breath catch because despite the fact that the two of you have bought each other meals, and occasionally a sweater or a shirt, this was far fancier than what you’d bought him for christmas. you’re quickly snapped from your sleepy reverie to glance between the box and choso’s face in disbelief.

what you’d gotten him for christmas was just a nike hoodie that you had thought he would look good in, and that you were excited to take when his scent was more ingrained in it. while it was a self-indulgent gift, he enjoyed seeing you in his clothes and you were more excited to see his face when you wore it, than you were to see him actually open his gift.

“choso,” you murmur, eyes warily traveling from the velvety red box to his eyes. “you didn’t have to get me something so fancy.”

he didn’t have to get you anything at all, really. did situationships normally give each other gifts for christmas?

“i wanted to.” he mumbles, red slowly rising on the apples of his cheeks as he nudges the box in your direction. “open it, before i die of embarrassment.”

“you look like you’re going to die of embarrassment right now.” you tease, leaning up on one arm to gently take the box from him and laughing as he covers his face with an arm. the velvet is gentle against your fingertips and you notice that you’re shaking, suddenly realizing you’re almost scared to see how precious this gift is.

“i feel like i’m going to.” the words are muffled against his arm and with every breath, his chest is rising and falling sharply. you rub a soothing hand on his chest as you lift the lid of the little box, your own breath catching in your throat.

inside plush black satin, resting ever so prettily are a thin golden necklace and a matching bracelet. even with the limited natural light in choso’s room, the dainty bands sparkle, as if there was a spotlight hidden somewhere to show off their beauty. somehow, as if it were possible, the necklace and the bracelet aren’t the most surprising thing in the box. scrawled on a piece of paper in choso’s messing handwriting, is the simple phrase ‘will you be my girlfriend?’ in black ink. the question makes your heart flutter and immediately your eyes lock with his.

“are you serious?” you ask, mouth agape in sheer surprise. the tips of his ears have flushed bright red, by this point, and he nods shyly as he fiddles with the waistband of your pants. “oh my god, of course!”

you’re moving before you know what’s happening, choso leaning up to wrap you in a tight hug. his arms are wound around you, face buried in your neck as you laugh gently, closing the box and putting it on his sheets, content to put it on when he’s released you from his grasp.

“i was so nervous you were going to say no.” choso whispers into your neck, fingers gripping your clothes.

you shake your head. “i’d be stupid to say no.”

“merry christmas.” he leans back, eyes twinkling and the blush still ever present on his cheeks and ears. “i love you.”

pressing your lips together, hands pressed to both of his cheeks to pull him into you, you can feel a tightness in your chest lifting. his lips are as soft as they always are, lightly taste of vanilla and chocolate, and they slot perfectly against yours—just as he is perfect for you.

“i love you. merry christmas, choso.”

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genericpuff · 1 month

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I really don't like how Melinoe looks like a female Hades with Persephone's pink eyes. It's too generic. Maybe keep her hair and eye colors, but maybe make her skin color a blend of both of them, like a muted purple/gray to contrast her with Dionysus? Anything other than what she has in canon.

What's wild is that the narrative is trying to convince us now that all of the dreams he had of him and Persephone were just peeks into the future. But if that's the case-

1.) Melinoe learns to communicate verbally at some point

2.) There's ANOTHER BABY we haven't even established yet (though Rachel did confirm in a tweet from ages ago that it's some god named Brimos who she read about in a book when she was a kid ???):

(but Brimo was an epithet associated with Hecate/Persephone/other gods of the dead, not necessarily an actual direct offspring of H x P, so... yeah, weird choice of a 'nod' especially now that she's trying to implement Hades' dreams into the plot as 'future sight' or w/e)

3.) All of the visions of their future together feature children that predominantly resemble Hades, not Persephone. This is really telling as to how much the relationship - both on a narrative level and even a visual one - revolves around Hades. Persephone is just an accessory, to the point that none of their children can resemble her in any major way, only through very miniscule references, such as the vines coming out of Melinoe's back and her pink eyes (whereas "Brimos" doesn't resemble her at all).

4.) This goes hand-in-hand with #3, but Dionysus and Thanatos are not present in any of these visions. I'm willing to give Thanatos a pass because he's an adult man (although it does just go to show how little Hades views him as a child), but what about Dionysus? Does his absence from these scenes tell us that Persephone found other accommodations for him? Or, more likely, is it because Rachel never planned to include Dionysus in the first place? And of course, Dionysus' design is also inherently linked to Hades, because while he has purple skin (referencing wine/grapes/etc.) he's got white hair that's explained as a genetic trait that's been passed down through Hades.

All that said, the baby plotlines in LO are a mess in and of themselves, and you can tell just how much of it revolves around Persephone "fixing" Hades or being the solution to all of his infertility and relationship problems. Persephone is the most perfect woman of all who Hades is dependant on to solve all of his problems, everything is about what she can provide him and what he can stand to gain from her, even if it means dragging her down to his level.

Man. Minthe was right.

(seriously in ANY other story this would have been FORESHADOWING-)

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

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junosmindpalace · 8 months

Text

wrote this quick thing to cope with shibuya (and school starting)

contrary to popular belief, waking up with satoru gojo wasn’t filled with angst or longing.

never were you filled with an overwhelming sense of loneliness or abandonment upon seeing an empty dip in the bed beside you, because never, not even once, had you awoken due to the loss of his warmth around your body.

when satoru rose from bed, so did you, and when you rose from bed, so did satoru. whether that was at five in the morning or one in the afternoon, you and satoru started your mornings together. the two of you never had strict sleep schedules, anyway, due to the demanding nature of your jobs.

mornings were a kinder, more merciful part of your routines. compared to all the violence, mental and physical exhaustion that made up the majority of your day, at least you could have a sense of peace as you rose with the dawn.

the two of you shift around in your sleep plenty of times, from cuddling to hogging blankets on opposite sides of the bed, to waking up in a tangled mess of limbs. satoru’s mornings start in the crook of your neck, and if not there, then he turns around to bury himself in the crevice. his hair tickles your face and slowly pulls you out of unconsciousness, and for a moment the sensation alarms you. but when you realize it’s only satoru, with strong protective arms wrapped around your waist and face buried against you, you sigh and collapse against him, turning to lay on your back and card a hand through his messy snow locks.

mornings with satoru were not hurried-- not in the slightest. if there was one thing satoru could get away with as the strongest, it was lazing about and being late. and he certainly wasn’t eager to rush out of your comforting arms, and so the two of you take your time adjusting to the morning light that peeks through the blinds, adjust yourself a couple more times in bed, throwing your legs atop of each others (and hissing when one was too cold), and simply taking what’s left of the dark before slowly getting out of bed and into your shared bathroom.

the whole routine is done slowly, not a single sense of urgency. brushing your teeth, washing your face, patting each other's bed heads down to look just the slightest bit more presentable in the bathroom mirror.

he’s arguably more groggy than you are in the mornings, which makes him all the more eager to finish up in the bathroom and head to the kitchen to brew himself coffee. by the time you finish up, you’re slowly making your way into the kitchen where satoru stands holding the handle of his mug. he extends your own toward you when you approach, and you graciously accept it with both hands and a mumbled “thank you…”, and the two of you take a minute or two to bask in each others company and in the relieving, energizing warmth of your beverages.

mornings with satoru were not loud or filled with much conversation. in contrast to your usual days and nights filled with teasing and random conversation, it was not uncommon for the two of you to go long stretches in the morning without a word. time taken just to reboot and get into the mindset of the day, but not wanting to separate from each other. all the two of you really need is each others’ presence. the habitual noises that come from your routines--the slight clattering of dishes, the wrinkling of fabric as you got dressed, the whirring of cars from outside as you open your windows to let in fresh air-- was the most sound that filled your apartment in the morning.

muttered conversation rises as the sun does higher in the sky, when the sleep slowly starts to fade out of your systems. it’s about the weather, it’s about your schedules for the day, it’s about how he kicked you in his sleep, and him giving you an apologetic kiss to make up for it. small, substanceless conversation, but it was enough.

you take him in in other ways instead. he tastes like coffee and mint in the mornings when he kisses you, a strong combination that you’ve learned to find comfort in. the large white tee he wears to sleep smells of his body wash and softener as you nuzzle your face into the fabric, taking in a couple of extra minutes being enveloped by him before the two of you begin your day. his hair is untameable, sticking out in all directions no matter how much you try to adjust the messy heap into somewhat of a presentable style. he laughs at the small pout on your face as you do so, and takes your hand out of his hair to press a small kiss to your fingertips. he grins and tells you he doesn’t mind and neither should you as he leans into your palm.

he takes you in in other ways, too. silently listening to your hums as you check your phone to see what you missed out on while you slept, the gentle tune soothing his irritation over waking up from his pleasant slumber with you. he watches you style your own hair after giving up on his own, thinking about how much it suits you through his hazy head. and if he’s feeling just clingy enough, he’ll collapse his head atop of yours and breathe in the product you put in that he loves so much, gently swaying the two of you in place. what originally starts out with a single peck to your pouty lips as he holds your chin delicately turns into another, and then another. you laugh at the satisfied look on his face when he realizes it's your lip balm he loves so much that’s pulling him in, and is reminded to snatch the tube for himself from your bathroom drawer before he leaves (though he’s always disappointed, because it always tastes better against your lips).

he adjusts the pin on your uniform after you finish dressing yourselves as you scold him to “spend a little more time with the first years today”, and he can only smile and reassure you that he “has something special in store for them”. you help him pull his blindfold over his head and adjust it so it sits comfortably over his eyes, combing your fingers through his unruly hair that now looks even more wild with something holding it up.

you check once, twice, all over your apartment to make sure you aren’t forgetting anything, and satoru chuckles and reassures you that a simple phone call will have him warping to the school to drop off anything you left behind. as you kiss him goodbye before parting ways in front of the school, he mumbles against your lips that he’ll stop by later with a breakfast treat for the two of you to share in the office (because satoru is still greedy, and though he’ll original buy just one for you to enjoy on your own, he’ll not so subtly eye and indicate that he wants a bite).

and with that, the two of you part your separate ways, and the slow morning transitions into the hectic start of your jobs. but you know that even so, you’ll be filled with a solace reminiscent of the one you two shared earlier when you enjoy your treat in the empty staff room together later.

#wanted to write for the main trio but nothing is coming up!!#jjk x reader #jjk oneshot #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #jujutsu kaisen fluff #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo oneshot #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru oneshot #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo oneshot

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binniebakery · 3 months

Text

Lover

nonidol!au soobin x gn!reader fluff established relationship ♡ Summary: based off of taylor swift's lover !!! soobin is being the gentleman he is, neither of you know how to not be sick🤨 ♡ Warnings: tall soobin agenda??, reader gets called cute, someone's a little sick smh, lmk if theres something im missing! ♡ A/N: second fic wow.. l! this was a little self-indulgent but I really hope yall enjoy! idk if someone has done this before im sorry adsfasdf this song smacks and soobin is so lover coded i had to put my thoughts down asap (erm also not proofread so!!! 😻😻)

You were never really a morning person. It was a Saturday, why would the sun be so cruel as to wake you up as it shone through the beige curtains of your bedroom? As soon as your lashes fluttered open you realized that the blanket had been pulled away from you, only covering half of your shivering body. Sure winter was coming to an end soon, but snow still covered the ground outside and the warmth of your sleeping boyfriend’s body seemed more inviting than ever. You flipped around to catch Soobin softly asleep. His hair was messily fluffed around as one arm rested above his head, the other mistakingly holding on to the bunched-up blanket that was meant to cover your side of the bed instead of holding you. You couldn’t possibly be mad at someone for stealing your blanket when he slept like such an innocent angel. After all, you knew any other time he would be willing to give you the entire thing just for you to stay warm. And there’s this dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you dear.

Smiling as you wrapped your arm around his side, you leaned in to press your forehead against his. Of course, just softly enough so he wouldn’t wake up. The sun’s rays hardly peeked into the room but it was enough to perfectly land on his features and highlight his button nose as Soobin occasionally sniffled in his sleep. His dark hair and lashes a lighter color from being showered in sunlight. Work had been stressing him out more than usual lately and he finally was able to get a few days off. Just in time for him to start catching a cold. Luckily, you being the cautious couple you are, were able to catch the symptoms in time and he had been recovering quite quickly. That’s when it hit you that you needed to walk to the nearest market to restock the tea he had been drinking for dear life to help with his scratchy throat.

You pressed a kiss onto his forehead and as carefully and quietly as you could, sat up from your bed. Right as you were about to slip a foot onto the cold floor, you felt a large hand lazily reach for you, lightly dragging an index finger down your arm in soft protest. “Mm hey, where you going?” a soft mumble could be heard from the once sleeping giant that lay beside you. You turned to see Soobin forming a soft pout. “Just to the store really quickly Binnie. Need to get you some more tea for your throat.” you responded, softly poking his doughy cheek. “So.. you’re going without me?” his pout was now more prominent than ever, cutely contrasting his deep and groggy voice. “Soobin, you’re still recovering. I don’t want to reverse that” you sighed. Your boyfriend was now tugging at the hem of your sweater. How can someone be so endearing? “It’s fine, justmythroa-” he wasn’t even able to finish his sentence as he coughed and reached over to grab the half-empty water bottle that sat on the nightstand. Can I go where you go?

“Please.. I feel fine I swear y/n. I’ll wear a mask and everything. Can’t have you going by yourself.” he pleaded with a soft smile. You knew Soobin was clingy when he got sick, but it was obvious this time that he wanted to make up as much time as he could for how busy he had been the past month. How could you say no? Can we always stay this close? You made sure your boyfriend was wrapped as tightly and warmly as possible. Holding onto him tightly as you walked down the street. The urge to constantly adjust his scarf every few seconds scratching at your brain. You looked up at him to see Soobin smiling fondly down at you. “What? Toothpaste on my mouth?” you tilted your head. Soobin chuckles and shakes his head. “No, you just are extra cute today, nothing new.” Forever and ever.

On your way back to your apartment, you felt your own throat begin to feel sore and itchy. Most likely due to the reason that you weren’t wearing a scarf yourself. Not wanting to alert the overprotective giant bunny walking beside you, you (not so) discretely coughed into the arm that wasn’t currently wrapped around your boyfriend as soon as a loud gust of wind whooshed by. On instinct, Soobin immediately stopped in his steps. “Did you just cough?” he said as he stared you down. “No- I-.. okay yes sorry I just don't want you to think I’m si-” Before you could continue you felt warmth wrap around your neck. “Binnie! What are you doing?! You’re going to get sick again!” Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? “Hey, hey, don’t fuss you need it more, I already feel better just being with you. Plus, we’re already here.” Soobin pointed out as you realized you were only across the street from your apartment. Smiling softly, you intertwined your cold fingers with his warm ones as you finished your journey back home. Or you could say home was right there in that moment, holding you close and offering his scarf.

With every guitar string scar on my hand take this magnetic force of a man to be my, lover

As your boyfriend quickly put the laundry away, you were just about finished making tea for the both of you. Pouring the tea into your favorite mugs, you felt a warm pair of arms wrap around you. Soft music played on your tv speakers as the snow began to fall outside. “This might be the last time we get snow this year..” you mumbled as Soobin rested his nose into your hair. “Mhmm.. how’s your throat bunny?” he responded. “Hmm.. you know I think I need a kiss better from someone.”

Soobin chuckled, a light smirk on his face as he turned you around to pull you in. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t. After all, you’re getting sick, I’m getting sick-” he teased. “Oh can you please just shut up and give me a kiss” you laughed as you pulled him in. Just like every kiss you had with him and every kiss to come, his lips were sweet and inviting. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he leaned down to wrap his around your waist and lift you up. Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover Sharing soft laughter and light touches, you both remained protected and oblivious to the harsh cold outside. Winter was getting warmer, not because of spring, but because of your lover.

#tomorrow x together #soobin #soobin fluff #soobin x reader #soobin x y/n #txt fluff #txt imagines #txt scenarios #BakeryTreat♡

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inkykeiji · 9 months

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character: jouno saigiku x fem!reader genre: smut warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink, face fucking, boot humping, a lil degradation mixed with a hint of praise, dacryphilia, size kink/size difference, lots of cum words: 3.7k

He knows you’re up, the moment he steps through the flat’s threshold.

He can hear your gentle breathing, can hear the soft rustle of lace and satin against your skin as your chest rises and falls, can hear your sock-clad toes, overlapped and wiggling, weight shifting slightly from one foot, then the other, as you wait in anticipation.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” he asks aloud, not bothering to turn toward your hiding spot, attention focused on his hands as he slowly pulls a white glove from his fingers, one by one. “What are you doing up?”

“Missed you,” you mumble out through a pout, cheek pressed into the doorframe, face half hidden.

“Yeah?” he’s asking as he tosses the first glove onto the counter and begins work on the second, his features contrasted by shadows, but you can still see the smirk on his face. “Why don’t you come give me a hug, then?”

A sweet little squeal of affirmation sounds in your throat and then you’re off, bare feet pitter-pattering against the polished hardwood, body barreling into his chest only a second or two later, hard enough to knock a gentle chuckle from his lips, his arms catching you easily.

A deep sigh deflates his chest, his body melding into yours. His head droops, lips pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before he rests his forehead against your skull. A thick thigh slots itself between your own, your limbs twining together; a tangle, a knot of a single entity.

With a slow, steady, purposeful inhale, his ribs stretch against yours as he fills his lungs with your scent, breathes you in and gulps you down and holds you close to his heart, steeping his tissues in your essence, infusing his blood with you.

A beat or two passes, the two of you motionless but melting into one another, before he finally plants another kiss in your hair, arms tightening infinitesimally, squeezing you to his form.

“Hate that you work such long hours. Love this uniform on you, though,” you murmur into his chest, nuzzling your cheek against the starched fabric of his jacket.

A gentle laugh rumbles behind his sternum.

“Is that so?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How much do you love it on me?”

“I think you know,” you say shyly, peeking up from his chest.

He does know—he can smell it on you, can smell the arousal rapidly seeping into the silk of your panties, can feel the warmth on his thigh through the thin material, a swiftly expanding patch of slick.

But he wants to hear you say it.

“How much?” he repeats, slow, stern, an order.

A stringy whine sounds in your throat and your bottom lip juts out further, chin puckering, but you obey anyway, heat staining your cheeks.

“So much. So much it makes me wet,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut, scorching prickles of humiliation rippling beneath your skin. “So much it makes my clit throb and pussy flutter,” you grind against his thigh in emphasis, legs tightening around it. “Feel it?”

A hum of recognition vibrates on his tongue, head nodding. His cock twitches against your hip—just once, nothing more than a greeting—and you giggle, humping his leg with a little more vigour.

“Sit down, Daddy,” you say softly, delicate fingers unfastening his cape and pushing it from his shoulders. “Let me fix you a drink.”

“It’s late,” he says, but he goes willingly, collapsing in his favourite armchair. “You should be in bed.”

“And you work so hard,” you respond lightly, prancing over to the gold bar cart, filled with sparkling decanters and amber liquor. “Let me do this for you. Then bed, pinky promise.”

With a small resigned smile, he nods, accepting a crystal glass of scotch from you a moment later. Ice clinks against the sides as he brings it to his lips, taking a slow sip, another sigh seeping from his chest, the burn of alcohol eating away at more tension, liquifying his tired muscles.

You assume your designated position then, on the floor at his feet, between his spread knees, cheek laid against his thigh. A large hand cups your head, thumb stroking your hair in slow, rhythmic motions.

This has become somewhat of a habit as of late. The Armed Detective Agency case has been devouring all of Jouno’s time, and it has left him with mere crumbs to give to you.

He’s just about polished off his drink when your hands begin to wander, palms smooth as they run up his strong thighs, dainty fingers digging into lean muscle as they go, his legs instinctively spreading wider.

Your head shifts, eyes gazing up at him adoringly—he may not be able to see you, but he can feel you, your body welded to his shin as your hands work, your face nosing along his thigh, cuddling into him, desperate to be as close as physically possible.

He swears he can feel your stare, too, potent and powerful and oozing thick love as it slathers across his skin, dousing him in indescribable warmth. It saturates the air around you both, enveloping your tangled bodies in its dense embrace, permeating his flesh straight to his very soul, where it poisons him so sweetly.

It’ll always amaze him, how someone can look at him with such reverence, such admiration, like he’s a fucking god, so strongly that he can sense it—feel it on his body, taste it on his tongue. It’s fucking intoxicating, his cock twitching again in his trousers, a rush of hot blood fizzing through his veins.

Your fingers knead aching muscles steadily, expertly, climbing a little higher with each cycle through the routine, closer and closer to the apex of his thighs but never quite reaching it.

It’s utterly teasing, rigid flesh mollifying beneath your amorous motions as the pressures of the day leak from his pores, massaged from his body by your gracious hands, wrung from his soul bit by bit.

It’s utterly teasing, but it’s so good, a craving for more clawing at the pit of his stomach, igniting a mild itch in his veins.

Something sounds in his throat, the ghost of a whimper—something he’s hopeless at smothering, an instinctual, uncontrollable reaction to you—and he feels your body respond, a minuscule jerk of your muscles in response, a curious little gesture imbued with a question.

Gasping gently, your gaze slides down, watching with a sort of morbid fascination as his cock fills with life, as it strains, more and more, heavier and heavier, against his maroon trousers, yearning for your tongue, your touch. Grinding your fingers into tense tissue near his hips, you giggle a little at the way it jerks gently, begging you for attention. Another noise plays on the back of his tongue; a caution this time, not to play around too much.

Finally, you lean forward, hands clamped around his thighs, and nuzzle into his swelling cock, rubbing your face against it like a cat with a small hum of contentment.

A fond little melody falls from his lips, nothing more than a wisp of breath—so starkly different from his usual sharp snickers, most often kept sealed behind smirking lips and reserved for those who deserve it—something private, something just for him to savour and enjoy, his palm moving to caress your head again, urging you further into his groin.

“Really do love this uniform so much,” you mumble out dreamily, muffled by the material.

“Show me,” he breathes, just barely shifting beneath your touch. “Show Daddy.”

Fondling halted, you pull back slightly, staring down the bridge of your nose at his cock, almost as if you’re taking a moment to admire it before scattering a few well-placed kisses along the silhouette—underside, shaft, tip. It jumps beneath your lips in response, and you giggle again, snuggling back into it lovingly.

Tongue unfurling from your mouth, you trace the bulge slow and sloppy, dragging your the slick muscle along the outline of his massive cock and leaving a damp, gleaming trail across his lap. His hips twitch ever-so-slightly, a motion you wouldn’t have noticed had you not had your entire face pressed into his crotch, and you relent, tongue grinding over the head in hard, steady strokes—back and forth, back and forth—before your mouth closes around it as best it can, suckling at the tip.

And you swear you can taste his pre-cum, dribbling from his slit and oozing through the thick material of his work pants, bitter and strong like his favourite blend of coffee. A moan slips from your lips, the sound hot and wavering against him, your lapping turned desperately vigorous, starved for another drop of him.

You’re making a real mess now, he’s sure of it, threads of spit knitting your lips to his trousers, chin syrupy with your own drool, smudged across your mouth and jaw, a direct result of your burrowing.

He’s getting restless now, you can tell, can feel it in the way his thighs clench, can hear it in the gentle, barely-there hitch of his breath with each firm glide of your tongue over his cockhead. And eventually, finally, he snaps, just like he always does, just like every other night before.

“It’s not nice to get Daddy’s cock hard and then not do anything about it, baby,” he warns, amicable tone sewn together with an implicit threat. “Don’t be a little tease, now. Finish what you’ve started.”

The authority in his voice—not a statement, not a suggestion, but a demand, a direct order—sends spears of heady adrenaline shooting through your chest, body jolting, and you nod, fingers obeying immediately, instinctively.

The heavy brass buckle of his belt jingles as you hastily unfasten it, leaving it hung undone as you shove his jacket up and pop the button of his trousers, mewling a little at the way the smooth planes of his stomach flex, tightening in anticipation.

Hooking your fingers in his waistband, you tug his pants to his ankles, Jouno lifting his hips and aiding your efforts, cock greeting you eagerly a moment later, slit drooling pearly sap.

“Oh, gosh, Daddy,” you whimper, sounding almost on the verge of tears—you’re not, of course, he would know if you were—voice infused with sheer awe. “It’s—It’s so pretty.”

He’s sure it is, with its pretty pink tip, flushed a shade of rose, and its perfectly symmetrical shaft, straighter than Cupid’s arrow, and its delicate veins, ivied around his girth and softer than velvet.

Logically, you should already know this; you’ve certainly seen it enough times. But every time you pull it from his pants is like the first time all over again, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love your fawning, even if it is characteristic.

“I bet it looks even prettier in your mouth,” he says, and there’s a trace of melancholy in his tone, as if he genuinely regrets being unable to see it.

You take that as your cue to get to work, wrapping a palm around the base of his cock and taking him between your lips, tongue curling almost protectively around the shaft as you suck him in.

“That’s it,” he encourages, a palm cupped beneath your chin, thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “Take the whole thing down your throat, as much as you can.”

And, really, you do try your very hardest, your very bestest, to take as much of him as possible, throat gorging on his cock.

But it still isn’t nearly enough.

Because you’re already coughing just before you reach the halfway point, spasming around his tip as your body tries to reject him.

And, oh, that just won’t do.

“Aw, is that all you can fit in your little mouth?” he clicks his tongue, as if he’s disappointed, though there’s a sharp smirk on his lips. “How pitiful. That’s alright, Daddy’s here to help you.”

A large palm finds its rightful place on the crown of your head, fingers splayed across your hair and digging into your scalp as he presses down, slowly, his breath stammering with each constriction of your throat.

This is how it always starts.

Leisurely but firm, you’re forced to take his cock inch by inch until the whole thing’s shoved down your throat, your nose pressed flush to his pubic bone—pause, hold, choke, release, repeat—enabling him to feel every single gag and gurgle his actions elicit, taking his time to savour them, to breathe in your pain and torment and let it marinate in his bones.

Because it’s all so heavenly, isn’t it? To feel every pulse, every choke, every squeeze of distress and know that, despite it all—despite the drops of crystal streaking your cheeks (he can smell them) and the viscous snot pouring from your nose (he can feel them, dripping on his cock) and the foaming little bubbles of spit collecting in the divots of your puckered lips (he can hear them)—you’re still taking him, you’re still doing the very best you can for your Daddy, to please your Daddy.

And that dedication, that utter devotion—that’s better than anything else in the world, that’s the best.

He continues like this, agonizingly unhurried, until your throat is grated raw by the sobs, and your jaw is aching, little muscles stiff and locked, and he can no longer tell which convulsions are from his cock and which are simply a result of your crying.

Christ, it’s so easy to make you cry, sweet little sniffles and shredded little snivels that dribble past the seams of your lips—pretty little mouth jammed full of him—and it’s such a beautiful sound, precious noises reduced to nothing more than a gentle stuttering in your throat as they’re pushed back into your chest by the steady driving of his cock.

Finally the pressure on the back of your head lets up, but you don’t dare raise a mere centimeter, whole body quivering as you struggle to stay right where he left you, mouth stretched wide at the base of his cock.

He ceases all action for a moment or two, forces you to hold the position, revels in the sweet sounds of anguish trembling around his cockhead, before his palms grasp your cheeks, fingers so long they nearly overlap at the back of your skull, holding your head steady.

And then, he truly begins, abrupt and without any warning, hips pumping hard and fast, fucking your mouth with a sort of ruthless vigour, a relentless voracity, the thick soles of his boots squealing against the hardwood as he uses his planted feet as leverage.

Your grip on his legs tightens with each piston, nails biting into the flexing muscles of his thighs, and he laughs breathlessly; how absolutely adorable.

And oh, it’s so messy, he can feel your stringy saliva drooling from the corners of your mouth to drizzle off your chin in fat, sticky cords, swaying and stretching with each ram of his cock. They splatter almost artfully across his bare thighs, cooling upon impact, inspiring a crop of chills to pebble across his skin.

He can feel your warm tears, too, dripping off your jaw to collect on his flesh in little puddles, can smell their potent salt—bitter and tangy and making his mouth water—as they leave crusted trails on your cheeks. Thick hunger collects in the creases beneath his tongue, a longing to lick them clean from your face, to sop his tongue full of your devout servitude and stain his tastebuds with your tartness, to swallow down any and every bit of you, let you take root in the pit of his stomach and bloom there, grow there, fester there, for eternity.

Everything must hurt, he thinks, all your muscles coiled tense and taut, but you pry your jaw open wider for him, just like the good girl you are, desperate to take as much of him as possible, devoted to your cause.

Because no matter how much it hurts, you’re enjoying this just as much as he is.

A moan catches in his throat as the dense scent of your arousal hits him, and God, it’s so strong, you must’ve soaked right through your panties by now, must be gushing slick all over your inner thighs, coating them in your essence.

He wishes he could taste that, too; mop it up with his tongue and saturate every inch of his mouth with you.

“You’re so wet from this, huh?” he says, question fading into a feathery breath, the only indication this is affecting him at all. “Naughty girl. Are you leaking all over our nice hardwood floor? Should Daddy make you lick it up afterward, punishment for making such a mess?”

You choke around his cock in response, and he groans, hips stuttering slightly before regaining momentum. The rubber toe of his boot nudges your thighs and they part instantly for him, allowing him space to wedge beneath your cunt.

“My poor baby,” he spits through a mocking pout. “You must be so horny from sucking Daddy’s cock. Here,” his toe pushes up, grinding into your hole and evoking a soft yelp, “why don’t you hump Daddy’s boot while he occupies your mouth.”

You comply immediately, hips snapping into action, rutting against his foot with a sort of greedy eagerness, ravenous for any little part of him he’ll give to you.

He can’t feel how sopping wet you are through the thick rubber of his boot, which is truly such a shame, but he can hear the embarrassing squelching of your drenched cunt as you rub it into his toe.

It’s probably leaving such a pretty sheen of your slick across the top, a thick layer that glitters as prettily as the tears on your face must.

“There you go,” he says, sugary sweet condescension dripping from his words. “Does that feel better, baby?”

All you can do is whimper in agreement, the gentle sound sending vibrations down his shaft, and his hips jerk, belt buckle clinking together as his thrusts turn vicious, such a delicate melody contradicted by the growls and snarls he keeps swallowing back.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he nearly gasps out, edges of his letters turned ragged. “Such a good little toy for me, aren’t you?”

He hears your heart jump in your chest, fluttering at his praise, a torrent of warmth rushing through his veins in response, leaving his blood tingling.

“You love it when Daddy uses you, don’t you, precious?”

You respond with another sloppy moan, tongue quivering around his cock, and a whine breaks in his throat, sharp and jagged.

It’s building in his gut, a heady rapture, stomach beginning to contract as the muscles draw up into firm knots, scrunched by cresting pleasure. Shards of hedonism escape his nose in uneven little huffs, matching the relentless pace of his hips.

It all harmonizes so perfectly, the sounds shattering on his tongue and the stifled sobs shoved back down your throat and the squeak, squeal, squelch of your cunt on his boot, of his soles on the hardwood floor, of his cock fucking your mouth.

His actions have turned clumsy now, a stark contrast from his usual prim perfection, palms slippery with sweat on your jaw, grip tightening as his fingers readjust, digging bruises in the shape of his prints into your scalp.

He’s sure they’ll be swollen tomorrow. He can’t wait to feel them.

Three more thrusts and then he’s forcing copious amounts of hot, thick cum down your throat, holding your head in place as his cock throbs on your tongue, each pulse spilling another rope of cream into your mouth.

And, oh, it’s so much, too much, cum collecting in the divots of your cheeks and the creases beneath your tongue, but you don’t waste a fucking drop, swallowing obediently around him with every surge, making room for the next load.

And then you don’t fucking stop, zealous in your quest to milk him for everything he’s got to give you, desperate to fill your tummy with as much of him as you possibly can, enough to sustain you until you get to see him next, at this time tomorrow night.

You suck him fucking dry, suck every ounce of cum from his balls, suck until a bristled shudder runs through his form and a hiss is spit through his teeth, the white-hot overstimulation now too much for him to bear, fingers tangling in your hair and pulling you up.

You collapse on his thighs the moment he releases your head, weeping into his soiled skin—a mess of salt and drool and snot and cum—your ribs hiccuping with frayed breaths and harsh sobs, nails scraping weakly against his flesh in a pitiful attempt to tug yourself closer.

A coo slips from his lips, the sound both compassionate and condescending, as if he finds your tattered soul so cute; slashed yourself to pieces for him, always for him.

“Come here, darling,” his hands slip beneath your languid arms and hoist you up, dragging you into his lap and cradling you to his chest, collecting the remaining ribbons of you in his arms, strong and protective.

“Da-Daddy!” you’re wailing into his neck, fingers curling in the collar of his stiff jacket, spit and tears staining the pristine material a chalky white. “Daddy, Daddy.”

Clinging to him, you bury your face in his shoulder, another rough sob hacking through your form, and he hugs you tighter, gentle hushes falling from his lips as they scatter kisses across the top of your head.

“I know, I know, I’m here,” he murmurs into your hair, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin. “You did good, sweetheart. You did so good for me. You always do.”

Tender fingers press into your sore muscles as he rocks your bodies; a slow rhythmic swaying, back and forth, back and forth, while sweet nothings pour from his mouth, voice hot against your skin. The words are even warmer, snuggling into your flesh between soft kisses, the little hitches in your breath—residual sobs that have your chest stuttering and your nose sniffling—ironing themselves out with each brush of his lips.

And although he loves returning home to you no matter what the circumstance, this is, and always will be, his favourite way to be greeted after a long, gruelling day.

Maybe he’ll sit here, just like this, for a little while longer.

#jouno x reader #jouno smut #jouno x you #saigiku jouno x reader #saigiku jouno smut #jouno saigiku smut #jouno saigiku x reader #jouno saigiku x you #i can't get him out of my minddd i swear to god it's a sickness

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the-kr8tor · 8 months

Text

Loose Thread

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (R is mentioned smaller than Hobie though), food mentions, sexual innuendos, FLUFF.

Main Masterlist

Thread the Needle Masterlist

CHAPTER 2 >>> CHAPTER 3

You hold onto Hobie's waist like your life depended on it, the wind whips at your face, your cardigan not helping with the cold breeze. Your arms perfectly mold around him, like you're made for each other.

You shut your eyes when Hobie accelerates his bike, the harsh wind kisses your cheeks, making you hide your face behind Hobie's back. Feeling the leather against your skin, you get a whiff of Hobie, he smells like leather and citrus, the familiarity of it relaxes you, your hold on him eases a bit.

Hobie feels your hold on him waning, he slows down before tapping on your thigh, bringing you back on earth. "Don't tell me you're falling asleep" He yells, staring at you through his side mirror. Your face pops out, peeking behind his back.

"No, I'm not" you wrap your arms around him tighter, intertwining your fingers with each other. Making yourself his personal seatbelt.

"Sure," he revs up the engine, you yelp when he drives faster, weaving through traffic. You're sure he broke some traffic laws.

Despite the threat of possibly getting arrested, you squeal. Hobie stops abruptly, bumping your head on his back, Hobie's free hand holds your back so you won't get thrown off, the awkward angle making his shoulder ache. He doesn't care for the discomfort though as long as you don't turn into a street pancake.

"Hobie!" You yell, your arms let go of him, slapping his back with your palm "I almost flew off!"

"I'm holding on to you aren't I?" He says in between laughs, as you smack his back a few more times, he's wearing leather, this is definitely hurting you more than it's hurting him.

You stop when your hand stings, but you don't give him much reprieve when you pinch the back of his hand that's still holding on to you.

He brings his hand back at lightning speed, "I just saved your ass, and this is how you repay me?"

"You drive like a maniac! You could get hurt, Hobie!"

"You liked it" he taps his helmet with his knuckles "besides, I'm wearing a helmet" Hobie hitches his leg up, getting off the motorbike.

You stay seated, arms crossed around you, you glare at him. "Not the point"

"Alright, would you get off?" He extends you a hand, helping you.

You hold his outstretched hand, making goosebumps appear on your arms, you slap his hand away when your feet hit the ground, hiding how a simple helping hand makes you feel.

"I'm serious Hobie, Be careful next time, please"

"I will, promise" he can't help surrendering to you, especially when you look up at him like that, your eyes gleaming with determination. If only he could just quickly lean down maybe he can–

Hobie quickly stops his train of thought, bringing his hands over to the clasps of your helmet, taking it off for you.

His fingers graze your chin and neck, making your breath hitch in your throat. He sees you swallow, neck bobbing up and down. Hobie takes his eyes off your skin, clearing his throat.

"Hold still, I'm trying to fix your hair" you pause, actually holding still for him. Hobie tucks it behind your ear, his fingers stay a few seconds longer on the shell of your ear. The cold rings on his fingers are a stark contrast to your heated skin. You stare up at him the entire time, waiting for something. He doesn't take that step, instead Hobie hands the helmet back to you, before he takes his off.

One day all these lingering looks and soft touches will finally break the dam, spilling your affections for each other that's been festering for a decade inevitably take over. Hobie knows once you both cross that line, there's no turning back. He won't risk it, afraid of ruining your friendship for something he's not a hundred percent sure about, he obviously can't read your mind, so until you vocally tell him you like him, he won't cross that line. Hobie sometimes thinks he's delusional, reading your concern for something romantic and not completely platonic on his end. You're best friends of course you would be concerned for him.

Meanwhile, you share the same sentiment, waiting for those words that you've been waiting for to come from Hobie. You see your relationship like a loose thread, just one tug and everything will unravel. Either making or breaking everything you've built with him.

So you're stuck in a perpetual cycle of mutual pining, waiting for the right time to say it, and yet too afraid to cross that thin line of friendship into something more.

You scratch at a peeling sticker on your helmet. Your eyes downturned. The cherry red color of your helmet compliments his jet black one, yours is covered in various stickers you've collected over the years, some cutesy, some you've nicked from Hobie's stash. His helmet is absolutely covered in band stickers, some random ones he picked up from different places; there's no coordination where he placed them. There's a few scattered ones where you sneakily placed your own stickers, adorable looking ones in a sea of punk. The helmets do a good job representing you both.

"Alright, this is the place" he takes his wicks out of the ponytail. Showing you the name of the place.

"Aunt Janet's fabric store?" You read the sign out loud.

"Heard this place from a friend who does that thing where you dress up as a character"

"Cosplay?"

"Yeah that, he said this place sells fabric for cheap. Said this place was a 'hidden gem'" Hobie makes quotation marks with his fingers. "Might help with your project" the way you're staring at him, makes him doubt himself by bringing you here, what was he thinking?

You snort "well, let's see about that" you grin, taking his worry away.

Hobie opens the door for you, the bell jingling, signaling your arrival. The inside looks bigger than you thought. The walls are lined with multitudes of fabrics, all in different colors and types, some shiny and metallic, some sheer.

"Wow, they've got everything" you look at a random fabric, your eyes land on the tag. "Holy shit!" You look at Hobie, pointing at the price tag "is this real?"

"Is that cheap for that kind?"

"Duh-doy!" You point at the price again, almost fifty percent off the usual fabric you buy in your regular store.

"Dork" Hobie flicks your forehead, "let's look around, yeah?" He moves through the store.

"Am I dreaming? Oh my gosh! Look at this one!" You squeal when you see a dark fabric embroidered with flowers, Hobie watches you fangirl over cloth, a lopsided smile on his lips. You gasp "it's sixty percent off!" Feet bouncing excitedly.

"You want me to flick you again? Just to make sure you're not dreaming" Hobie leans on a display, toppling a dozen rolled up fabrics. It crashes loudly on the tiled floor, making you stare wildly at Hobie, he stares back at you, eyes wide, should you make a run for it?

"Shit" you both say simultaneously.

"What was that?" A third voice rings out from the back of the store, a tapping sound comes closer to your frozen bodies.

You grab Hobie's arm, Hiding behind him.

A small woman with a cane rounds the corner, "Oh, what happened here" for dramatic effect, a rolling green fabric stops near her cane. She has thick eyeglasses, her colorful clothes grabs your attention, she rests her hands on her cane, eyes turned curiously to the both of you. She reminds you of a fairytale grandmother, only this grandma might make you pay for damages. "Well? They can't talk for you" she gestures towards the fallen merchandise.

"I leaned against the shelf, sorry. I–" He pushes you out from his back to face the woman. " – we'll fix it, don't worry"

"You better, these old bones can't lift those up" she sweetly smiles.

"We're really really sorry, um?" You ask for her name.

"It's Aunt Janet for you sweetheart"

"Wow, you're the Aunt Janet! It's my first time here, I love your store!" You excitedly say, Hobie raises a brow at you, it's like you're meeting a celebrity.

"Aww thank you, honey. Come with me, I have new fabrics sent in a few days ago, you look like a lace kinda gal" you nod enthusiastically. Aunt Janet gestures for you to go over to her side. You dodge rolls of fabric on the floor, careful not to step over them. "As for your boyfriend, he has a lot of work to do," she laughs at Hobie.

You correct her, as to not make things awkward for the both of you later "oh, he's my best friend, actually"

"Mm-hmm sure, 'best friend' y'know that's how my husband and I used to call eachother" she leads you farther into the store.

You crane your neck behind you, looking apologetically at Hobie. You have a silent conversation with him, while Janet leads you.

He makes a rectangle with his hand, his index finger poking a hole in it. You owe me.

You make a number two with your fingers. Two down eight to go. Already dreading what he's gonna ask for in exchange.

Hobie stares at your retreating back, watching you walk away with a fond smile. Unbeknownst to him, Janet was sneakily watching the interaction.

You and Aunt Janet talk about various things, from facts about different fabrics to your lives. You learned that she did in fact marry her best friend, she even showed you a few pictures (you thought they were adorable) She also told you that the store can sell fabric at a cheap price because she owns the building, also learning that she used to design clothes in her youth, prompting you to tell her that you're a fashion student. Janet talks about her days in the fashion industry, even giving you a few tips.

But of course she asks about you and Hobie, that's inevitable.

"So just best friends huh?" She asks as she gives you another fabric sample, a deep royal blue with a shine on it. "From where I was standing it didn't look like that" she looks at you from the corner of her eyes.

"We've been friends since year six. No offense but you only saw us together for like five minutes"

"Those five minutes were enough for me to see that you're both hopelessly in love with each other, I saw how he looks at you"

You look in between the shelves to see If Hobie heard your conversation. You see him struggling to put together the display, a roll of fabric smacks him right in his face when a shelf topples over. You hear him hiss, immediately wanting to help him.

Janet looks at you with a knowing stare "I know you want to help him" you turn to look at her "trust me I know that look anywhere, I had the same face everytime I look at my best friend"

If she can see that you're absolutely in love with him, why can't he see it for himself?

You clear your throat "thank you, I think I'm gonna help him, before he hurts himself more"

"I mean no disrespect, sweetheart" She taps your foot with her cane "all I'm saying is, it's a rare thing, what you two have. Some people look for it their entire lives, and yet you two already found it. Don't let it pass you by"

"I'm– I don't know" you stammer out.

She nods, grabbing your hand, her hand feels foreign over yours and yet comforting. "One day" you'll know she lets go. Thumping her cane on the floor, "now, you gonna buy something or what?"

You chuckle, as you hear an oof behind the shelves.

—

You give Janet your list of fabrics you're ordering in front of the register, your hand plays with a square sample of a metallic cloth, it feels cold in your hand. Hobie pokes your side, getting your attention, he lays his arm on your shoulder, leaning against you.

"Got it fixed, Aunty" he points behind him with his thumb.

"Good, how's your nose?"

"I'll live" Hobie taps your elbow "Got everything?"

"Hmm? Oh, not yet I've only bought a few that I'm sure I'll use, I'm still not done designing yet, so I still need to come back here" you look up at him, breath warm on his skin.

"Alright, tell me when, yeah? I'll give you a ride"

"You don't have to"

"I want to," He shrugs, avoiding your eyes. Hobie sees Janet stares at you two with a knowing look. He raises a brow.

"This is your total" Janet exhales, showing you what you owe her. "You come back, I've enjoyed our little conversations"

"Thank you" you notice she added another discount on top of the already cheap price but before you could decline it, she gives you a stern look, shutting you up immediately. "Thank you, really. And we'll definitely come back, I mean look at him, I'm gonna need yards of fabric" you give her the bills.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hobie leans slightly away from you, arms still looped over your shoulders.

"It means you're very tall and you need a lot of fabric to cover your tall ass"

Hobie smirks, an innuendo on the tip of his tongue.

Janet cuts him off before he could open his mouth "okay, go flirt somewhere else. You're getting too sweet for my taste"

"I'm not flirting" you simultaneously say, making you look questionably at each other.

"Thank you, come back anytime" Janet smiles sweetly, practically pushing you two out of her store.

—

You grab the paper bag from the cashier, a quick thank you thrown their way. Walking outside you spot Hobie immediately. He's leaning against his bike, hands tucked inside the pocket of his leather jacket, smoke bellowing out from his lit cigarette. Hobie looks cool without even trying, looking like he came out of a magazine. He quickly flicks his cigarette over to the nearby trashcan when he sees you.

You set the bag on the bike's seat, grabbing his shawarma, handing the hot food over to him. "You got my chips?" He asks, peeking inside the bag.

"Our chips" you bite a piece of fry.

"Don't eat it all" He grabs your hand that's holding the half-bitten chip, bringing it closer to his mouth, you play tug of war, pulling your hand back. But he's too strong for you, he ends up almost biting your finger off, leaving some of his drool over your fingers.

"Ack! Hobie, come on, that's disgusting!" You try to wipe your hand over his shirt, but he dodges you last second.

"That's what you get for eating my chip" he steps back when you try to come near him again, a lopsided smile on his lips.

"I bought them" you say matter-of-fact.

"I punched out my card for it" he bites into his shawarma.

You narrow your eyes at him "ass"

"Love" that sounded a lot sweeter in his mind, but he's still chewing his food so it came out muffled, sounding a bit like 'calf'. But you still understood it, you wiped your hand over some napkins in defeat.

Hobie comes closer to you, you're both leaning on the side of his bike, taking bites of your own food. You watch as the sky slowly turns orange, the late afternoon sun glowing on your face.

Hobie watches as your eyes glimmer in the light, taking his breath away. He can't help but take your attention away "Oi, tell me about your project again?"

You knit your brows in confusion "wait, you went with me, without understanding the full thing?"

"Well, you did rush it out last time"

You sigh, not in exasperation but because of his overflowing fondness for you. He accepted your terms without understanding the full extent of your project, he trusts you that much. He just understood that you needed his help with a project, and he accepted, well the favour card helped. But still he agreed.

"We have to make this look, um, outfit, that is the perfect blend of both our styles. And you have to model it in front of everyone" you explain the gist of it.

"A perfect blend of each other huh? so basically we're making our kid then, yeah?"

"That's a weird way of putting it, but yeah I guess so, aren't you worried about modeling?"

"Don't worry about the modeling part, have I ever told you I got scouted once?"

"Hobs, I was there" you reminded him. "You told the guy to fuck off back to his mother" you chuckle remembering the memory.

"That was a good day" He grabs a chip from the bag, "I've got you, yeah? 'm not letting you fail"

"I know you do" you sip at your drink, hiding your shy smile.

—

You step on a stool to reach the top of Hobie's head, the wood wobbles, making Hobie protectively hold your waist. You can feel his warm hands over your blouse.

"I've got you" He watches as you take measurements of his head with a tape measure "please don't tell me you're gonna give me a bloody hat"

Various conversations from your classmates can be heard but you ignore them, focusing only on Hobie.

"Maybe" you smirk at him, "you've got a big head, Hobs"

"Y'know what they say about men with big heads" he loops his thumbs on your belt loops, playing with the rough denim.

"Please don't finish that"

"What? I was about to say we have big brains, what were you thinking 'bout?" He tilts his head, you move him back to place, your hand over his jaw, making him look up.

"Nothing, I was thinking the same thing" you quip as you measure his neck, the tape is cold over his warm skin.

"Sure" he peeks down at you, the tip of your tongue poking out from your slightly parted lips. He exhales "you almost done?"

You scoff "we just started, Hobie. What, you got places to be?"

He rolls his neck when you finally let go. "Band practice" he lies.

"I'll try to be quick then" you hop off the small stool, Hobie helps you down, still grasping your hips. "What size suit do you wear?"

He scrunches his nose "do I look like I wear bloody suits?"

"Right, stupid question" you straighten out your tape measure. "Size of your shoes then?"

Hobie smirks, a quip already on his lips.

"Don't, you already tried that" you point at him. He shuts his mouth playfully, mimicking closing an invisible zipper over it. "Size shoes please" you slap his chest lightly.

He dramatically shrugs, mouth still tightly closed.

"Don't make me take your shoes off" you bunch his shirt in your hand, playfully threatening him. He finds it adorable, he can't help teasing you more.

"Guess"

"Guess?" Your eyes widen at the double meaning of what he's asking. Knowing him, If you answer with a size too small, he's gonna be a brat about it the entire time. But if you answer with a size too big, the size of his ego will triple in magnitude, making him an absolute menace. It's a lose-lose situation. You have to guess correctly.

"What will it be, lovey?" He looks at your thinking face, a knot on your forehead, lips pursed.

You choose neither "I'm not answering that, just wear your own bloody shoes" you pat yourself on the back internally, outsmarting Hobie.

"You're no fun" despite his disappointed words, his large grin betrays his true feelings. "Cheeky" he scoffs, waiting for your reaction.

"Mm-hmm" you tap his arm with your pencil, "lift your arm, please" you bend his raised arm at his wrist, making a half ballerina stance. You choose to ignore his last comment, rolling your eyes, putting a stop to your back and forth.

Hobie watches you measure his arm, your knuckles brush against his warm skin, you take notice of the goosebumps blooming on his skin, choosing to ignore it, avoiding another back and forth teasing, this time coming from you.

"Right" you take the pencil from where you've placed it on your ear, scribbling his size on your sketchbook. You brush away the various papers and tools littered over your table. Hobie brings his long arm down for a second before you put your hands over both, raising them to his sides.

"You done yet?" Hobie's getting antsy, especially when you hold him so tenderly. It's not like he doesn't like it, it's just that he wants to get it over with so his heart will stop thumping so fast against his chest. He's sure you're gonna give him a heart attack any second now.

The classroom's noise fades out in the background.

"Not even close, Hobs" you scribble down the words 'chest and waist'. Hobie sees it, legs bouncing so he has an excuse when you feel his heartbeat while measuring his chest. "Hobie, stop moving or I'll have to start again" you stretch the tape over his chest, sure enough, you can feel how fast his heart's pounding. Shit you gotta finish this fast, or you'll be a goner.

You quickly jot the information down, clearing your throat. Bending down slightly, you hug him, pulling the tape over his waist, face almost completely over his stomach. Hobie feels the dam cracking.

"Sorry, I just gotta" you point down, too awkward to tell him what you have to do.

"Sure" Hobie nods, not completely understanding what you meant. He should've asked though.

Hobie doesn't like not moving, but when you fully kneel in front of him, embracing him again, pulling the tape over his lower waist, He turns to stone, avoiding looking down at you as you clearly avoid that area.

You've done this a million times before, why is it when it comes to Hobie everything seems to leave you flustered?

You look up at him through your lashes, blinking slowly "is this okay? Tell me if you're uncomfortable and I'll stop, okay?"

"I'm fine, it's fine" Hobie avoids your gaze, he plays it off nonchalantly, inside he's burning, he hides his shaking hands behind him.

Hobie watches the white ceiling instead, focusing on listening to your classmates' conversations to trick his mind from thinking something inappropriate. He finds out your classmate just bought their first car, good for them, he thinks.

Hobie exhales a trembled breath when you wrap the tape over his thigh. You can feel his muscles tensing at the contact. You bite your lip, trying to focus on finishing it up.

He just learned that one of your classmates' name is Hannah, and she apparently likes shepherd pie– Hobie closes his eyes when your hand grazes his hip again, the tape falling on the length of his leg.

"Almost done, you okay?"

Hobie looks down, that was a mistake on his end. He almost chokes on his own spit. Be a fucking adult, it's just her. He curses himself, that's the problem though, it's you, isn't it?

You feel hot, seeing how he looks down at you, his lips slightly parted. You shake your thoughts, That's your best friend you moron! Stop!

" 'm fine" Hobie's proud of himself for managing to say something. He feels bad, you're acting like a professional and he's a mess, heart stuttering with every contact.

You stand up, knees creaking. You're not even done measuring him yet, maybe you could just estimate the rest? He's fine having loose clothes right?

"Right, uh, I need to meet with you again, bang out some– I mean brainstorm some ideas" you change your choice of words so fast, already learning your lesson from last time. It doesn't go unnoticed by Hobie though.

Still reeling from a second ago, Hobie clears his throat, he internally fights with himself, whether or not to tease you with your first choice of word. "Of course, just let me know" He decides not to tease you more, if he chose to say it, he might end up flustered too. But his last sentence sounded too formal, a consequence of his (still) fogged up mind.

"I've already submitted the first rough sketch to Mrs. Williams, so we're good" you awkwardly make a double thumbs up.

"Yours or my place?" He blurts out.

"Uh, yours if that's okay? My dorm doesn't allow visitors staying late so"

"That's fine then, just don't come over too early" you both sound like you're acquaintances, oh Hobie hates this, this is exactly what he was avoiding.

You take notice of the mood change, so you try to break the ugly vibe permeating from you both.

"I'll bring the food" you say in a sing-song voice, bumping the tip of your shoe over his boots.

"And drinks?" Hobie raises a brow. Tricking you to use one of his favours without punching a hole in your card.

"And drinks" you sigh defeated, it's the most you can do after making him uncomfortable, in your mind at least. For Hobie it was far from uncomfortable, he felt like he was drowning, your touch the only thing bringing him back to the surface. It was the most pleasant thing, if only it didn't end with you both being awkward towards each other.

"Deal"

You shake his hand, doing your old secret handshake with him, your mind drifting off in the past.

You were this close from unraveling the thread that binds you both, good thing you stopped tugging at it. Hobie can see the fissures you've left on the dam.

A/N: Sorry this took a while. Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are always appreciated ❤️

*pictures above are from pinterest*

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iamthecomet · 6 months

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Kinktober Day 17 - Nipple Play

Guys, it's just 900 (ish) words of Swiss playing with Dew's nipples and ruining his life. A little lactation kink thrown in because that's what happens when you leave me unsupervised.

“Bet you can cum like this.”

Dew shakes his head. Vehement. Sweaty golden hair cascading into his face as he does. He leans back, body arching head dipping away from Swiss even as Swiss holds him firmly on his lap with an arm around his waist. Fingers digging into his hip to keep Dew exactly where he wants them.

It’s early morning. The sun just starting to peek over the horizon. Dew is undercaffinated and still sleep warm in Swiss’ arms. And that means that Dew is basically defenseless. Dew’s still shaking his head like he’s trying to chase the thought away entirely.

“No.”

Swiss doesn’t respond to that. Doesn need to. Instead, he seals his lips around one of Dew’s swollen nipples. He sucks hard, tugs on the ring through it with his teeth. Dew’s back arches deeper as he presses his body closer to the heat of Swiss’s mouth.

He uses his fingers on the other one. Plucking, twisting. None too kind. But Dew loves it if the way his cock spits between their bellies is any way to judge. Swiss could help him out. Hitch Dew a little closer on his hips, rub their dicks together. Tips sticky and wet. Could have Dew cumming all over him in a matter of seconds like that. But this is better. The aborted little rolls of Dew’s hips. Stutterin when he realizes there is nothing to grind against. The broken noise he makes when Swiss really digs his teeth in.

Swiss pulls back. A string of spit connecting his lips to Dew’s nipple as he tips his head up. Leans back against the mahogany headboard and looks at Dew. Really takes him in. Dew’s red down to his throat. His hair damp with sweat. Fingers clenching and releasing against Swiss’ back. Jaw slack, mouth glazed.

“They always get so puffy for me,” Swiss muses, and Dew whimpers at the words. Swiss gives his nipple a cruel twist and Dew jolts. Somewhere between trying to pull away and push closer. Hips jerking forward.

“Swiss–fuck–please.”

“Please what? Firefly?”

“Touch me.”

“I am.” Swiss drives the point home with another sharp twist. The press of the flat of his tongue over the other sensitive bud. Dew growls. Frustrated, desperate, needy in a way he only gets when Swiss does this to him. Torture that Dew has learned to beg for. “How much longer until they let down, huh?”

“Fuck–don’t say shit like that.”

Swiss ignores him. “Get them all swollen, nice and full for me? Huh? You’d like it.”

Dew shakes his head again, but Swiss can feel the way his cock kick between them. He hears the whine Dew tries to hide with clenched teeth. . “Bet it’s real sweet.”

“Satanas, Swiss. What the fuck?”

“You’d look so pretty like that too,” Swiss cups his hand around the non-existent swell of Dew’s pec. “Puffed up, aching. Cute little tits. Bet if I work at them enough it’ll happen. Does it hurt?”

Dew nods without any hesitation. Blush deepening. Spreading down his chest now. . "Y-yeah, please. Come on. Just touch me already. Make me cum."

"I'm trying." Swiss grazes his teeth over Dew's nipple and Dew thrashes.

"Can't cum like this, Swiss. Can't. Fucking hells, need you to touch it. Need–"

"No you don't," Swiss kisses him over his heart. Sweet. A bitter contrast to the tone of his voice. Dew is falling apart in his arms and Swiss is insane with it. Stomach clenching. Cock kicking. He'll bury himself in Dew's body soon. Fuck him until his eyes get misty. But first–

"You can do it, Dewy. For me. I know you can."

Dew's near panic is so sweet. The way he whines. How he tries to scoot his hips closer so he can rut against Swiss' belly. Anything to make it happen, anything to please Swiss. To give him this. It’s an impossible task. But Swiss isn’t about to let up. Not until Dew’s nipples are red and raw. Not until he’s had his fill of sweat slicked skin.

He rolls a nipple beneath his thumb and basks in the way it makes Dew gasp. Barely a touch. Swiss looks down and finds the tip of Dew’s dick flushed so dark it’s nearing purple. Sticking straight out from his body. Kicking wildly as Swiss toys with him.

“Swiss–please,” Dew voice is a pathetic whine. Another few minutes and Swiss knows Dew will promise him anything for a chance to cum.

“Not yet.” Swiss mumbles, sucking hard on the pebbled bud. Rock hard and swollen beneath his tongue. Dew bows in on himself. Hiccups on a moan. Body shuddering beautifully in Swiss’ grip. He wonders what they have to do today. Rehearsal probably. Mass later. He can’t wait to see Dew wince when his guitar strap shifts the wrong way. Can’t wait to scurry across the stage and touch him through his uniform. Drag his fingers over those bruised nipples while Dew fumbles through a solo.

Maybe Dew will fuck him about it later.

“Come on, Swiss.” Dew begs so beautifully. Swiss could listen to it forever.

“Not until they let down. Not until you give me a taste.” Swiss’ mouth descends again, worrying abused flesh with his teeth. Dew sobs, Swiss has never heard a sweeter sound.

#comet writes #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #ghostober #ghostober 2023 #someday I'll get my days back on track (as in I'll write the ones I haven't yet) but it is not this day #swiss army ghoul #swiss ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #dew/swiss #swiss/dew #dewdrop/swiss #swiss/dewdrop #ghost fic #ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfic #ghost band fic #ghost band fanfic #ghost band fanfiction

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solarwonux · 8 months

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Business Proposal || knj (6/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love Warnings: slow burn, angst, talks about sexual assault, talks about being drugged, nosey people, rumors, boxing, drinking. Rating: mature, 18+ w.c: 11.7k Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

a/n: hello, I'm here after thousands of years. Thank you so much for sticking around I know I can't upload as often as I used to :( Lololol and I couldn't wait unti tomorrow^^ Also this chapter was very heavy for me to write, but I'm happy that I did it! That's all lmk your thoughts and I will see you when I see you :))

AO3 || Masterlist || series masterlist

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It took you almost three hours to fall asleep.

You felt all giddy and excited for the morning to come, so much so that you woke up before your alarm without a complaint. Everything just felt so much simpler and brighter. You didn’t groan when the morning light peeked through the little slits between your blinds. You didn’t hesitate to push the white duvet from your body. And you practically skipped to the kitchen where Namjoon danced to his own rhythm as he prepared what seemed to be kimchi eggs.

At least that’s what your nose was hinting at. If you weren’t so distracted by the pleasant tangy smell, you would’ve noticed it the second you walked through his kitchen arcs. Maybe you would’ve had enough time to keep your jaw from hitting the floor, but it was like he sensed you despite your slow movements and turned around the moment you walked in.

“I made you breakfast.”

There was Kim Namjoon in all his perfect glory. Smiling. Shirtless. With a pair of black sleeping shorts hanging just below the navel of his abs, a light brown apron to protect him from the gas stove. You couldn’t see everything but you could see enough, and if enough was what was making you shake, then you were thankful you couldn’t see everything.

“Did you sleep well?” He cocked his head to the side as he plated your eggs on one of your ceramic plates with painted clouds on it. The stark contrast between his decor and yours was starting to morph into each other, slowly becoming perfect molds of the other and you had only been living together for a day.

“U-um, yeah my mattress is much more comfortable than my old one so I slept like I was on a cloud.” You said in a soft whisper as you slowly made your way to the barstool. Once you were seated you looked at the absolute feast in front of you.

Perfectly scrambled eggs with kimchi, a side salad, peanut butter toast topped with a perfect circle of sliced bananas, and a small bowl of tofu soup. This wasn’t like any breakfast you could ever make yourself. It was more than you deserved.

Suddenly you felt like crying. It’s only been a day since your compromise. You didn’t expect him to do a complete one eighty in the last twelve hours since you last saw each other. You were expecting small arguments here and there before they slowly died down. The domesticity of it all was slightly overwhelming, but you didn’t get enough to react like you would’ve liked because he was clumsily working his way through the kitchen again. Turning on the stove and mixing ingredients right before your eyes.

He looked so comfortable, effortless. You felt like a misplaced doll.

“What are you doing?” Was what came out of your mouth instead of the ‘thank you’ you had been mindlessly repeating over and over in your head. He chuckled, turning his head giving you a sweet dimpled smile.

He had to be messing with you. Not even the Namjoon you knew before acted like this. He never smiled wide enough to make his dimples appear and his eyes turn into little half moons. Unless it was towards his mother, who always made him turn into the sweet little boy she helped raise along with her son.

“I’m making us lunch. I figured we should clear out the fridge as much as possible to restock with new produce.” He shrugs and turns his attention back to the lilac frying pan he was using. Before you can answer with whatever obscenity your frontal lobe was currently developing. He spoke up again, “I’ve finished most of it already but when you’re done eating can you cut up the kiwi’s for me.” He finishes, continuing his task.

Certainly you’ve woken up in a different dimension. Are you still dreaming? This was most definitely not the same Namjoon who you were arguing with just a couple of days ago. Maybe it was his long lost twin brother that his entire family had kept hidden until now. Though, that theory would’ve been debunked with the amount of times you spent at his parents house doing Jungkook’s laundry for him. Maybe he fell last night and hit his head against one of his curated art pieces.

Come to think of it, you did wake up to the sound of something falling last night at around three in the morning.

That just had to be it!

“Are you okay?”

Namjoon stops and reaches his arm over, circling his fingers around the black knob to turn off the gas. He waits for the flame to die down before placing the pink rubber spatula on one of your cat holders. He turns around slowly, moving a bit to the side and leans against his perfect marble counter. One hand resting firmly on his hip.

He tilts his head to one side and narrows his eyes at you in suspicion. “I’m perfectly fine, why do you ask?” He replies through a forced gritted smile. His calm and composed demeanor falters for a second and you almost let out a sigh of relief.

There had been no alien abduction last night. The last and final theory you had come up with. The Namjoon you knew was still present, and he was slightly annoyed.

“You’re not being you?” You confess pushing your eggs around on your plate.

Namjoon scoffs and pushes himself away from the counter and begins to untie his apron. You’re in the middle of your first bite, when you see him throw it onto his kitchen island. Your eyes almost fall out of their sockets when you finally get a glimpse of his faint abdominal muscles. But what really has you swallowing fast so you don’t choke on your food is his chest. And the bulging muscles of his arms as he crosses them in front of him.

Did he turn off the air con? It is suddenly really hot in this kitchen.

“I don’t think you know me well enough to make that assumption.” He speaks up, taking you out of your trance. Right, you think. This isn’t time to shamelessly ogle at Namjoon’s body. You’re in a serious conversation? At least that’s the direction it seems to be heading. Whatever type of conversation you could currently be having with Namjoon, his tone of voice and accusatory glance triggers something in you. You’ve forgotten the compliment about how his hard work at the gym is paying off. The heatwave is replaced with a wave of defense and you’re up in a seconds ready to stand your ground in a battle that you have unintentionally started.

“I’m just saying Namjoon, you’re acting completely different than the person you were just last night.”

Namjoon shakes his head, grabs hold of the pan and sets it on top of an old kitchen rag. “You wanted a compromise, this is me trying. You wanted to be friends, so I’m treating you like how I treat all of my friends.” He mumbles and opens a lilac tupperware and begins to plate the spinach spaghetti aglio he had been making this entire time.

Defeated, you sit back down on the barstool. So, this is what being Namjoon’s friend was like. What were you all of those years ago?

It’s that realization that has you standing again, almost knocking down the barstool, catching Namjoon’s attention whipping his head in your direction, a confused look on his face. The conversation isn’t over yet, and he guesses it’s because that stubborn part of you that always needed to have the last word is still in there. He finds it just as infuriating as he did all those years ago.

“So you basically beg all of your friends to marry you?” You start, the accusation isn’t enough to fire up Namjoon. That is until you open your mouth again. “You kiss all your friends too.” You mumble, looking around his kitchen, taking in the modernism and avoiding the glare he sends your way.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” He speaks up. His voice is laced with annoyance. You always knew how to hold a grudge and you always knew how to bring up past mistakes in order to win an argument.

“Do you cook breakfast and lunch for all of your friends? You give them all jobs and help pay for their student loans? Oh, do you offer them a place to live or a separate house too? Or do you only do that for the woman you pay to be with you?” You accuse, rolling your eyes in annoyance. It’s a petty accusation and definitely out of pocket, but that’s what he does to you. He brings out the nasty little monster that still holds a grudge against him for what he did to you all those years ago.

Namjoon has had enough. The anger sizzles inside of him. He slams the lid of the tupperware down against his countertop, making you jump. He turns to face you slowly, moving his chest up and down in a poor attempt to stay calm. The peaceful and easy morning you thought you were going to have has moved out of the vicinity. As well as the deal the two of you made last night, and you’re the only one to blame.

You just can’t ever keep your mouth shut.

“What exactly are you referring to?” He seethes, taking deep breaths as he grips the corner of his countertop with one hand.

“I can’t help but think you have ulterior motives. Nothing about this makes any sense to me. I haven’t been working on campus for long but I have already heard the rumors questioning your character. And Jungkook has continuously ranted about the revolving door of women that would come in and out of your apartment when the two of you lived together. I just can’t begin to understand why I’m your last choice, why I’m the one in this position when you and I both know that there’s someone out there way better. Unless you want something more from me otherwise why would you have kissed me?”

Namjoon closes his eyes, taking in your words. If he’s being honest with himself he also doesn’t understand his motives. He knows why he is doing this. At least the half that involves his parents. But you’re right he doesn’t know why it had to be you in the first place. Sure, it was the simpler choice and he was running out of time, but if he really wanted to he could’ve bought himself some time to find the person he truly wants to share his life with.

Could it be that deep down he wants it to be you?

He can’t stand you accusing him of stooping so low though. He doesn’t know why he kissed you. It was an impulse that he has never felt in his entire life. Yet, he feels so angry that he can’t think clearly, because he’s spent years dodging the accusations at work, and Jungkook’s gossiping.

“You think I am paying you for sex?” He says in disbelief.

You shrug, pushing in the barstool. “I mean it wouldn’t be the first time that you pay someone for sex, according to your colleagues. Which I hold no judgment for but I am not that type of person.”

“And you believe that nonsense?” He chuckles dryly, shaking his head. “I thought that you out of all people would not believe those rumors. I have never done that in my life, because like you just said I am not that ‘type of person’. I will also never do that to you.” He argues, taking slow steps in your direction, reducing the air that’s separating the two of you.

“Why? Because I am undesirable?” You spit out. Throwing out the words that hurt you the most all of those years ago.

He shakes his head, rounding the corner to the bar and stands right in front of you. “No, that’s not why? I–”

“Then why? Namjoon I don’t understand I–”

“I respect you too much.” He interrupts looking at you with pleading eyes. It’s a look you have never seen on him before. It’s new, it feels foreign and it makes you doubt his words even more. Especially when you know that he hasn’t shown any ounce of respect for you since before he rudely barged into your life again.

You click your tongue, turning your head to the side. His gaze burns with something you can’t decipher. “You don’t have to lie, there’s no one around.”

“I’m not lying.” He fights back his voice full of hope. “You don’t have to believe me but–”

“Of course I don’t. Not only have you been a complete asshole since we met again but years ago you threw my feelings for you right to my face. You called me crazy, undesirable, and unlovable. And in that same vein you confessed to me.” Your hands quickly go up to cover your mouth. Your eyes bulge out in surprise. The little secret you had been holding in for the past ten years escapes you before you can even stop yourself. Nobody knew what had really happened after your tumultuous fight. It was something you were going to take with you to your grave.

Namjoon is stunned. He’s stuck between calling you out on your bullshit and believing you. Truth be told he doesn’t remember anything else from that night. Apart from the fight he had with you, and the words he said very clearly.

Could it be that there has always been a missing piece to his story. One that he never bothered to look for because he didn’t know it existed. Until now.

If he’s being honest, Namjoon never understood why you cut all ties with him from one day to another. Sure, he was brutal in his choice of words. He wanted to get his point across but he was always so much better at writing them rather than saying them. The second he opened his mouth both of your worlds turned upside down, and he was full of regret. As a last ditch resort to salvage the remaining spark of your friendship because back then he couldn’t picture a life without you in it–and maybe that’s transversed to now–he apologized. He wrote you a letter, explaining his thought process and that he valued you a lot more than you could ever imagine, but nothing came out of it.

Did you even get his letter?

He figures you did but choose to walk away for good. It’s something that he’s kept locked next to his heart. It’s a hurt he’s never fully healed from and it’s why he acts so cold towards you. Believe him, he’s been suffering since Taehyung’s party. But if what you’re saying is true, then he might finally understand something that has been keeping him up at night whenever he gets into his head.

“I what?” His ego is faltering as he watches your eyes water with frustrated tears. Every negative thought he’s ever had of you since then to make himself feel better for his heinous words and unproclaimed apology, makes him look even worse than before.

Your shoulders drop, “You came back. You apologize, and told me that you had loved me all this time.” You sniffle, wrapping your arms around yourself tightly. “You were drunk, so I didn’t believe you. I thought you were playing a joke on me, but I made myself believe that if you could tell me exactly that when you woke up the next day then I would forgive you.” You take a deep breath in, closing your eyes tightly. “I never got to know the truth because Jungkook called me. He was furious, asking if I had seen you. He let it slip that the girl you had picked up that night refused to leave and was trashing the apartment.” You take a step back from him. “So, I can’t believe you when you tell me that you respect me because if you did then you wouldn’t have told me that you were in love with me after you told me I could never be loved, and not after you had slept with someone else.” You finish, bringing your hand up and whipping away the lone tear that you had let slip.

The truth was finally out.

The real reason why you never talked to him again. And the reason why your self-esteem crumbled into tiny pieces of glass. You hated that time. You slipped into bad habits, looking for validation in different crowds that never had your well-being in mind. You spiraled out of control. You let go of your bodily autonomy because for the longest time you thought you weren’t worth it. Until the night in which everything was taken from you. Both Jungkook and Jimin were there to witness the crumpled up piece of paper that you had become. It’s why they’re so protective of you because seeing you so helpless and paralyzed with fear was horrifying.

They haven’t voiced it out loud yet, but you know they don’t want you to go through this thing with Namjoon. Although, he wasn’t the culprit for your distrust in men. He was the reason as to why you went down a road that you didn’t belong on.

So, as much as you would like too, because guarding yourself with high walls is tiring. You can’t let them down. You lost so much for such a long time. Keeping them up is the only way you can protect yourself.

“No, I’m–no, I didn't do that.” He starts letting his hands fall against his sides. Your attention is back on him and you’ve never witnessed someone look so lost. “I would’ve remembered, I never drink that much.”

“So, I’m lying?” You scoff, throwing your hands in the air. As much as you're angry and want to continue fighting for your side. You’ve held on for so long to that little secret and now that it is out. You feel more exhausted than before.

Namjoon shakes his head. “I didn’t sleep with anyone that night. I would remember if I did.” He says more to himself. His head feels like it's being rewired a milliseconds at a time. Everything he’s thought up until this point feels foreign to him. He’s angry at himself, at Jungkook, and you. He’s trying to recall the events of that night. You told him you loved him with a starry look in your eyes. He turned you down in the worst way possible. He left. He went to the little speakeasy bar located in between a chinese-korean fusion restaurant and a lighting shop, by his apartment. He was approached by someone they talked a little and then he hits a black wall. He suspects that’s where the missing puzzle piece is hidden. He truly doesn’t remember ever going back to see you. Only that the next day he woke up woke up with the worst hangover of his life and Jungkook’s silent treatment that lasted more than two months.

“I really don-“

You lift a hand in defeat, and Namjoon’s words fall dead in the air. You let out a big sigh. “You don’t have to come up with any excuses to spare my feelings. What’s done is done. You don’t have to do all of this either.” You signal to your now forgotten breakfast and half packed lunch. “We can continue to pretend outside of this apartment, but we don’t have to try so hard to like each other and build something between the two of us. I’m sorry for suggesting it in the first place. I thought it would make things a lot easier but now I see that it won’t.” You say almost sadly before finally turning around and walking away.

It’s frustrating because even now he still lets you have the last word. He has so many things he wants to say, but his words are stunted with shock.

If Namjoon was born lucky, we would’ve stopped you from walking away from him again. He would’ve tried to convince you to call out of work so that the two of you could figure this out together. He’s never felt more serious about something before in his life–except for his research. He needs to know what happened during the second half of that night, and you’re the only one who seems to know.

Sadly, he wasn’t born lucky, and he loves to take the easy way out. He’s stuck watching your back, while his feet stay glued on the ground. He’s stuck with having to go about his day as if his world hasn’t just been flipped upside down by you.

There’s a rumor going around in the Literature/ Philosophy/Rhetoric department of HYBE U.

Professor Kim has stormed out of his classroom.

It was a lecture on aesthetics. Ancient aesthetics to be exact. It is one of his favorite’s to teach because he can talk about how beauty can be found in tragedy. It’s an immerseful lecture, it’s inspiring at all times. Namjoon loves to get lost in the philosophy of it all. You could almost say that he’s obsessed with how they believed that for one to be beautiful on the outside, they would need to be vicious on the inside. It proposes the questions:

Is beauty reflective of one's inner self or of what they desire? What lengths would you go to, to achieve that beauty?

Except on Monday for Namjoon’s first lecture of the day, he never made it that far. He never got the chance to hear his students' input, because he walked out ten minutes after walking into the lecture hall. He didn’t give anybody a warning. He didn’t pack up his stuff, he just stormed out, leaving behind a bewildered room of about twenty something pupils.

He hasn’t been seen since.

“I heard that one of Professor Kim’s parents died.”

“I heard that he was coming out of a weekend bender, I mean did you see how he was dressed. It’s like he just rolled out of bed.”

“I heard that it was a cocaine bender. I mean none of those crazy philosophy professors are sober.”

“Actually I heard Professor Kim’s fiance left him. She took advantage of him and then walked out on him this past weekend.”

Normally, contrary to popular belief you wouldn’t have thought twice about the rumors going around campus. Sure, you did tell Namjoon that you believed the rumors that were going around about him sleeping with multiple of the staff. Deep down you knew they weren’t true. At least to a certain extent, you won’t fault him for entertaining his desires.

Now as you’re making your way through the department the whispers only get louder from both faculty and students. The vicious stares only keep zeroing in the closer you get to your office, and if you have to hear one more person say something along the lines of: “Oh, she’s the one that took all his assets, look at her prancing around like she owns the world.” You will go insane.

Have they never seen a couples brawl before?

Though it does bother you to a certain extent. You didn’t leave him. You’re very much still with him. The only difference is the dynamics between the two of you. You only assume you’re being brought into this because you took a taxi to work rather than riding with him.

“I heard Professor Kim caught her with his step-brother, looks like she’s interested in good for nothing guys.”

You stop dead in your tracks, clutch onto your laptop case with an iron grip. Furious is an understatement you’re seething. You could ignore the things being said about you, knowing they would die down the minute they see the two of you together, but not the things being said about Jungkook.

Seriously, did they never fight with their significant other?

Yet, now that Jungkook is being thrown into the mix. You’re seeing red. So, instead of continuing your route to your office, you quickly turn, glaring at the person who just spewed the accusation, and make your way to Namjoon’s office.

You’re walking so fast that you’re there in seconds. You stare at the gold name plate in front of you. Dr. Namjoon Kim, it reads. You don’t let yourself admire it for a second longer because now you have an urgency that feels overwhelming. You knock so hard, your knuckles turn red. He opens on the third knock. His blue dress shirt is untucked, his tie forgotten on his desk. There are papers everywhere, yellow notepads sprawled all over the floor.

Jungkook is sitting at his desk, scrolling through the desktop.

Now you understand why Jungkook was suddenly being brought into the mess.

Namjoon is stunned, he’d been so out of it for the whole day, that he had forgotten that you worked with him in the same building. He’s been hiding out in his office, sending mass emails to all of his students, letting them know that due to ‘unforeseen circumstances’ he will be canceling all of his classes today.

Then, Jungkook showed up. His confusion lasted for a few seconds when he remembered that his brother’s sudden appearance wasn’t out of the blue.

Somewhere on his desk calendar were the words ‘Jungkook computer’ penciled in. It had completely slipped his mind that he had contacted the younger to set up the new desktop computer he had just bought. It required a set of skills that Namjoon d didn’t posses, and the only language he hasn’t bothered to learn, unlike his brother. The computer genius, Jungkook’s strongest forte. Those three semesters of computer coding classes didn’t go to waste. Only the amount of money he spent on them. He left them behind right before his last semester to earn a two year degree in photography, along with his parent’s disappointment.

“Can I come in?” You tilt your head gesturing to the inside of his office. He’s still looking at you wide-eyed, lost, and confused. Almost like he doesn’t quite understand why you are here. He thought he read the signs right this morning when he went to get you from your room to ask if you still wanted a ride to work. It was empty so he immediately took that as you not wanting to talk to him for a while.

Now, you were here standing in front of his office. It wasn’t even lunch time, and he knows you’ve already finished your last lecture of the day. Usually at this time you’re in your office waiting for him to finish, to go home together. It’s a routine that didn’t take long for him to memorize, especially because he had your work schedule printed out and pinned next to a picture of his family on the gray bulletin board of his office.

He is confused because you do want to talk to him now?

He doesn’t realize that he’s only been staring at you like a deer caught in headlights, without saying a word. His train of thought only breaks when you open your mouth again to ask the same question as before. “Um, yeah sure. Sorry about the mess. I think I lost some student papers.” He swallows, scratching the back of his head, as he steps to the side to let you in. He takes a deep breath before closing the door behind him, avoiding all the intrigued stares looking into his office in hopes to get a peak of the situation to add on to their fabricated stories.

“Hey Bunny, I was going to stop by your office to set up your new desktop in an hour.” Jungkook says, his eyes don’t leave the wide screen in front of him to know that you’re absolutely confused.

“I don’t have a new computer, Kook.” You say, walking up to Namjoon’s desk and setting your laptop in front of it.

Before Jungkook can answer and add onto your suspicions. Namjoon speaks up from behind you. “I bought you a new one when I bought mine. They both came in today so I asked Kook to come set them up since he’s the computer genius.”

You whip your head to face him, making him cringe. He hates that you look equally as shocked and annoyed at him. Truth be told he wasn’t thinking when he placed the order. He saw a good deal and took it. Thought that it would be a nice welcoming gift for you. Plus, speaking from experience, HYBE U’s faculty computers were so old that they never backed up anything. He’s lost so many hours of research in the years that he’s worked here.

“You didn’t have to do that Namjoon.” You sigh, shaking your head and making your way to one of his guest chairs. “But we can talk about that later because now that the two of you are here. We have something to discuss.”

This catches both of their attention. Namjoon stops looking through the old files in his filing cabinet, and Jungkook pauses his typing, indicating that you have their full undivided attention.

“Namjoon walked out of his lecture this morning. So, people are assuming the worst of you. And I’m guessing because someone saw Jungkook they’re also saying that I’m in some sort of love triangle with the two of you. Not to mention I am now a gold digger.” You let out a frustrated sigh, looking between the two of them. They look unfazed and it triggers something in you.

“My favorite one is the one where Namjoon is an alcoholic slash drug addict, slash mafia member.” Jungkook shrugs before returning to his typing, humming underneath his breath as he pulls up windows on windows of numbers and letters you can’t begin to understand.

You roll your eyes crossing your arms in front of you. “Don’t listen to them, they have nothing better to do than to assume.” Namjoon says, closing the filing cabinet and then moving on to the stacks of papers on his office floor. He sits down crossed legged, furrowing his brows as he begins to sort through them.

You scoff, “I understand that this is something that you are used to, but I’m not. My life was peaceful, rumor free before I got involved with you again. Now, I’m a gold digger, and a heartbreaker, and a mafia leaders wife.”

Namjoon slams the stack of papers he had been holding down on his carpeted floor. He’s been on edge since your big reveal this morning. He understands your frustration, but what is he supposed to do? Go out into the lobby and tell everyone that the real reason why the two of you are arguing is because ten years ago he confessed that he was in love with you and doesn’t remember a thing. And that the reason why things don’t make sense in your relationship is because your engagement isn’t real, and that the two of you are only together for personal and financial gain. Truthfully, it will only fuel the rumors more. And from personal experience, he’s learned to ignore them because eventually they’ll die down.

“There’s nothing we can do, but ignore them. They’re baseless and people will forget about them by tomorrow.” He pleas, running a stressed hand through his hair. He really needs to find those student papers. He didn’t realize they were missing until he came back from his lecture this morning. This stress is only adding onto the stress of the missing memories from ten years ago. He wants the whole world to hide away until he can figure shit out for himself.

“Maybe if the two of you stopped fighting people will stop making up rumors. I heard the two of you came to work in separate cars.” Jungkook suggests with a shrug. It only adds to your annoyance.

“There’s a reason for that.” You grumble.

“I’m sure there is but you guys are doing such a shitty job at this whole engagement thing. So, you better sort your shit out before it somehow reaches mom and dad.”

You roll your eyes and move to sit on the floor in front of Namjoon. Your heart aches to see the stress lines form all across his forehead. You wish you had been a bit nicer to him this morning, but the adrenaline from your reveal was doing most of the talking. If what he claims to be true. That he doesn’t remember anything then your heart aches for him. You know what it’s like to have pieces of your memories go missing. You’ve been where he has been before, and it takes a lot of brain power and willpower to not give up.

“Do you need help?” You whisper, crossing your legs in front of you. Namjoon lifts his head, nodding at your question before moving onto the next stack of papers. He’s never been this careless before. He’s always been so meticulous with his work and again if the university’s online submission system wasn’t so faulty he wouldn’t be having this problem.

“Do you remember the last time you had them?”

Namjoon shakes his head, running a hand down his face. “They turned them in last week, I swear they were on my desk, and I don’t remember taking them anywhere.”

You nod, starting to sort through another stack of papers. You have no idea what you’re supposed to be looking for. The fault of essays is that they’re all formatted the same way thanks to university guidelines. But you guess giving him the illusion that he has an extra pair of hands and eyes helping him makes him feel more calm.

“What day last week?”

“Thursday.”

A lightbulb goes off in your head. “Joon, didn't you come to my office right after your lecture on Thursday. I think you might’ve left them there. I haven’t been to my office yet, so I don’t know but we can check.”

Namjoon feels like a wave of relief has passed through him. He’s up instantly and full of hope as he extends his hand for you to take. “I hope you’re right, I really need to start grading them before their final papers come in.” He says, while you take his hand and you let him pull you up.

“Looks like we’re going on a family field trip through a sea of gossip.” Jungkook says from behind the two of you. “I’m done setting up your computer, I need to get to yours Bun, Joon and I have a gym session in an hour.” He says looking down at his smart watch, swiping through the tiny screen.

It makes you shudder at how official he looks. You’ve never seen him so calculated and organized before.

“You’re going to the gym?” You tilt your head as Namjoon interlaces his fingers with yours and opens the door to his office. You don’t question it, knowing it’s probably because it will put a rest to the rumors once and for all. It makes you tingle a little bit even though you know it’s all for show.

Namjoon nods as he steps out with you. “I forgot to tell you, but I can drop you off at home and then pick you up to go to the grocery store.”

You shake your head, following his lead as he moves towards your office with ease. Avoiding all the whispers and glares going on around you. “That’d be a waste of time and gas. I can just go with you to the gym and then we can go from there.”

“I don’t want you to get bored.” He’s sincere about it. He knows you’re not a fan of gyms ever since you were young. He knows you hate the smell of them and the testosterone that gets released into the air by all the men that are trying to compete with one another. Seokjin’s gym is no different.

You shrug, and open the door to your office. “I’ll just run on the treadmill and then bother Seokjin until he kicks me out.” You grin, stepping in. He follows behind you along with Jungkook who has a shit eating grin on his face.

Jungkook closes the door behind him. “Good job team, that’s more like it. You two make a very good and fake loving couple. I just saw all the jealous glares following the two of you. I can assure that all those rumors bothering you today will be forgotten by the time we all leave. Or worse, considering I heard some gasps and the accusation of us being a throuple thrown out there. ” He shrugs and lifts his hands up for a high-five, which the two of you ignore, with a roll of your eyes.

“People need to learn how to whisper.” You shake your head in disbelief before untangling your fingers from Namjoon’s. You spot the box of your new desktop on one of your guest chairs, and you guess it had been delivered to your office by the mail department while you were in class. As annoyed as you are about Namjoon spending his money on you. You’re still grateful he even thought of you in the first place.

Before you can admit defeat and give him your thanks, Namjoon is making a beeline to your empty bookshelf. A stack of papers, neatly placed on one of the shelves. He picks them up and lets out a sigh of relief. He must’ve placed them there while he was waiting for you last Thursday. It’s no wonder you hadn’t really spotted them because they weren’t in your line of sight.

“Found them?” You ask, stepping to the side as Jungkook soundlessly moves behind you to get to your desk.

“Yes, fuck, thank you for helping me.” Namjoon says. “Is it okay if I go back to my office to start grading them?” His question throws you off guard. Why would he need your permission? You nod, and he rushes out a quick thanks before he’s disappearing again, leaving you behind with Jungkook.

For a few minutes there’s an air of silence, apart from Jungkook’s angry mumbles as he assesses the mess of cables. Until he speaks up from under your desk. “You know, the rumors bothered him more than he let on.”

You turn around quickly and walk to where he is kneeling. “What do you mean?”

“Before you came in, he was huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf and mumbling about how everyone was stupid for assuming things.” He shrugs, “I think he didn’t want you to worry so much, which is why he told you to ignore them.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you sit down on the floor beside him, watching as he untangles and unplugs cables. “Did you hear the one about him selling his left kidney to the black market?”

Jungkook laughs, looking at you from over his shoulder. “It was so specific, I honestly couldn’t ignore it. I mean why not the right one?”

You laugh, taking the cable he tosses at you.

Namjoon can feel the droplets of sweat roll down the sides of his face. He hates sweating. Scratch that he hates that his body naturally runs hot, resulting in sweating even when standing still, It gets worse during the summer months. Though, in this instance he isn’t just standing. He’s in an intense sparring match with Jungkook.

After leaving your office. He managed to tidy up and grade at least three papers. The hour was up before he knew it and he was driving the three of you to Seokjin’s gym. The session started off simple, but then he saw that you had changed into gym clothes and for some reason his brain short circuited. He found himself pushing himself more when you looked in his direction and trying his best to get your attention whenever it wasn’t on him.

He doesn’t necessarily understand where this animalistic desire to hunt came from. He just knows that he probably looks like those annoying jocks with an inflated ego. And now you’re behind the gym’s front desk, laughing at something the owner is saying. His pit bubbles up with something undesirable and his hits only get stronger.

He wants your attention.

“Want to tell me why the two of you fought this morning?” Jungkook says out of breath, his words muffled from the navy mouth guard. He steps a few feet away from his brother, hands up protecting his face.

Namjoon understands every word, and he knows his brother had been dying to ask since he stepped into his office earlier that day.

“It’s nothing.” Namjoon shrugs, moving in to land a punch on his shoulder only for it to be blocked by the younger. Sometimes, Namjoon really hates sparring with Jungkook. He can’t begin to understand how the younger’s reflexes are so fast. It’s like he can predict where he is going to hit before Namjoon even thinks about it. He prefers Seokjin, but he’s chatting you up behind the counter. This thought has him charging forward again and Jungkook blocks it again.

Fuck, why is he so good at everything?

Jungkook, steps forward landing a punch to the side of Namjoon’s ribs, and he lets out a huff of pain. “It didn’t seem like nothing, it wasn’t like those petty fights the two of you have been having. It's more right?” He side steps, dodging Namjoon’s hit, and he lets out another frustrated groan. “You’re too slow.” The younger chuckles.

“Maybe you’re just freakishly fast, idiot.” He rolls his eyes, before taking a step back. He lets out a big sigh shaking his head. Wordlessly letting his brother know that he needs a moment. If this was a different day Namjoon could go hours without stopping. But every now and then his body asks for a break.

Jungkook nods before removing one of his gloves and mouth guard. “Are you going to tell me or will I have to live in the dark forever.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“So, I can help of course.” Jungkook replies with a hint of arrogance, a smirk making its way onto his face.

Namjoon sighs as he sits down against the wall, taking off his gloves and setting them to the side. Jungkook joins him, bringing his knees up to his chest, patiently waiting for his brother to answer.

Sometimes it’s funny how things work. Who would’ve thought that the two brother’s from different mother’s would one day grow to depend on each other so much. Despite Jungkook being younger than him, he somehow always had helpful advice.

“Apparently told her that I loved her the same night I told her I could never love her.” He whispers, picking at the gauze on his hands. He ignores Jungkook’s shock, it’s enough to know that he didn’t know and that truly the only one who knew was you. Before he can let his brother get a word in he continues to talk. “I don’t remember that, I don’t remember any of it and it’s scaring me.” He admits, bringing his knees up to his chest.

“What do you mean you don’t remember that. It seems like a pretty big thing to just forget.” Jungkook offers just as equally as confused as him.

“Apparently you called her asking about my whereabouts because my one night stand wouldn’t leave.” Namjoon adds and it triggers a memory Jungkook forgot he had. He does remember being furious at his older brother. Not only because earlier that night you had called him to tell him everything. It only added to his anger when he found a strange woman on his couch.

“How do you not remember that?” Jungkook questions again, sitting up straighter. He remembers the anger he felt then. He remembers picking up his brother at your parents house. And he remembers how drunk Namjoon had been, which only made matters worse because he was uncontrollable and winning like a baby as he hauled him into their shared car. He remembers your tear stained face, and your hardened features. He remembers being afraid of never seeing you again because of his brother and his mistakes. He also remembers everything that spiraled out of control after that night. All the nights you were physically and emotionally in pain. He remembers it so vividly, that he’s so annoyed that his brother doesn’t.

Was that moment so insignificant that he was able to forget it in seconds?

Namjoon sighs, closing his eyes. “I swear on mom and dad’s life, on my career, on my fucking life Kook that I don’t remember anything after I left her house the first time. I don’t remember ever getting home from the bar or bringing somebody home.” There is a mess of emotions going on inside of him, but the main one is fear.

Jungkook turns his head to face his brother. He can see the inner turmoil written all over his face, as much as he felt anger back then. He can’t help but feel a little guilty. What if after all these years his anger was misplaced?

“What are you implying?” Jungkook whispers.

“I don’t know, I don’t want to know. I’ve gone through so many scenarios in my head.” He sets his head on top of his arms resting on his knees. The only thing that he can come up with that makes sense is the one thing he wants to ignore. “Maybe I was drugged.” He whispers. In seconds Jungkook’s arms are around him and he’s bringing him closer. He didn’t know that one day he would’ve had to go through this again, let alone with his brother.

He feels angry again, this time at himself for not thinking twice about everything, and to the people who keep hurting the ones he loves. “I’m sorry Joon, I’m sorry for being such an ass to you. I should’ve–”

“You couldn’t have done anything Kook. You don’t normally think about things like this happening to men, let alone people who look like me. I also don’t know if that’s entirely true.”

“It doesn’t matter Joon, someone still took advantage of you.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe that’s just me making shit up in my head to understand why I can’t remember the second half of events that night.” Namjoon sighs, sitting up straight and unwraps the gauze around his knuckles. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”

Jungkook sighs, shaking his head. “Joon, one day you’re going to realize that you don’t have to fight all of your battles on your own. Whatever happened that night, whatever made you lose your memories that night. You don’t have to go through that alone. You don’t have to put yourself through that agony. You have people around you that will always be there for you.” He says, spotting you laughing at something Seokjin was saying, your short ponytail bouncing while you shake. It took so long for you to smile and laugh like that, and he never wants that smile to disappear again. “You don’t have to make up excuses or say it’s not a big deal. If you believe that’s what happened to you, knowing yourself, then that’s what happened. It might be too late to go back to that time and fix our wrongs, but we can start fresh from this moment on. I know will understand and want that too.” Jungkook finishes, nodding in your direction.

Namjoon follows his younger brother's gaze. He catches you staring at them. At him. The second your eyes meet, you send him a smile, ignoring whatever nonsense Seokjin is spewing at you. It’s a silent conversation, only the two of you understand. He knows that even though things from this morning still need to be resolved, that Jungkook is right.

“When did you get so wise?” Namjoon looks over at him.

Jungkook, sits up taller, puffing his chest out, out of pride from the subtle praise. He flexes his arms in front of him before responding. “Mom says it’s because this isn’t my first life.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes before standing up, grabbing his equipment with him and extends a hand for him to take. “Whatever, I’m going to have to cut our session short.” He pulls the doe-eyed man up with ease, before glancing over his shoulder where you’re now organizing the gym’s merchandise. No doubt that you have somehow been recruited by the owner himself to do the thing he finds most annoying. He smiles wide, looks at his suspecting brother.

“I have to go grocery shopping”

As gross as it sounds, Namjoon didn’t bother changing out of his gym clothes. He was in such a hurry that all he did was wet his hair in the sink and wipe the sweat from his face. He acknowledges that he might’ve smelled a little too much like a man, but he wouldn’t know because you haven’t made a face or brought it up. You’re simply scanning the aisles, and referring to your phone while he pushes the cart next to you.

“What meals do you want to have this week?” You ask, as you stop walking out of curiosity. He had been so hyper focused on the way that he might’ve smelled that he forgot to ask you that on the car ride over. Now, he is drawing a blank. He’s sure he looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Pasta?” He tilts his head to the side, making you laugh. You should’ve known the only thing he’s really confident in making is pasta. When he told you that Seokjin had been teaching him how to cook, you expected more knowledge of different meals. Not more knowledge on different kinds of pasta.

“How about I decide and you just continue to help me push the cart.” You suggest, giving his shoulder a pat and then start walking again. He forgot the other reason he had been so distracted, until now. You also hadn’t changed from your workout clothes. Not that it mattered because you hadn’t actually worked out. Apart from the thirty minutes on the treadmill before getting distracted by Seokjin, and being roped into odd jobs around the gym.

There should be no reason why your ass looks as good as it did in those wine colored leggings. Or why they somehow hugged your waist perfectly. And why is your black shirt so tight? He feels troubled.

“I’m thinking that we can make a bunch of power bowls for lunch this week, and then I don’t know what for dinner.” You say with a pensive hand on your chin.

“I can make mandu soup one night? Mom showed me how to make it a few years ago.” He adds on, looking at the frozen packs of different types of dumplings. Personally, his favorite ones are the kimchi ones. “But Seokjin also wants me to start fasting, so maybe I can just make you dinner.” He ends, looking over to his side where you’ve taken it upon yourself to open one of the freezer doors. He smiles when you shudder at the sudden cool breeze hitting your arms.

“I can just fast with you.” You shrug, showing him the mixed bag of dumplings. He nods in approval and you hum while setting it down in the cart. He watches as you pull your phone out of the band of your leggings, and check something off from the list on your phone.

Namjoon starts to push the cart again once you step to the side. He feels you come beside him, and from the corner of his eye he sees you place your hand on the cart handle. A little too close to his. “You don’t need to fast with me,” he stops for a second to gather his thoughts. He’s finally beginning to learn that with you he needs to do that before he starts to spew out nonsense. “I don’t want you to fast with me. You don’t need to and it helps me if I make food for you.” He shrugs, looking ahead because he’s positive that he catches the little warmth that hides behind your indifferent stare; he will melt in this frozen aisle of the grocery store.

“Fine, I’ll do a baby fast after I eat dinner, no more midnight snacks and cookies, and icecream.” You decide, and he can’t argue with that because once you have your mind set on something, he knows he won’t be able to change it.

“We can have cookies and ice cream on the weekend.” He pouts, while you open another freezer door and take out two bags, one of frozen pieces of korean pumpkin, and another of frozen pieces of sweet potato. He makes a face, knowing they’re his least favorite but now he understands why you suggested making power bowls for lunch this entire week.

Seokjin must’ve gotten into your head and your grocery list.

He sees you pause before setting the bags into the cart. The wheels visibly turn in your head and you look at him brightly. “Can we make a pit stop before going home?”

Home.

To Namjoon the word feels so foreign and familiar coming from your mouth. If he’s being honest he’s never pictured building a home with anyone in his life. So, why did it feel so right when you said it? He must be trippin. He must be still running on the endorphins of his workout. He must still be thinking about the past Namjoon who confessed without knowledge. He must still be trying to justify his actions to find an answer, because there’s still a little part of him that doesn’t believe he ever said he was in love.

In his thirty years of life he’s never been in love. He can’t begin to explain what love feels like because he doesn’t think he’s ever experienced it. Yet, there’s the part of him that is yelling at him, annoyed for ignoring all the signs that were already there. Ever since this morning he’s been in a constant battle with himself. Teetering over the edge of letting himself feel again and keeping all of his feelings locked up like a constipated kid who had too much chocolate before dinner.

He can’t deny that it will just be easier if he lets go, but he wasn’t lying when he told Jungkook he was scared. Scared that something had been taken from him and he didn’t know about it for years. Why must life and love be so complicated? Why couldn’t you have one without the other? He’s always been a simple man. A simple university professor for the later half of his life. And here he was contemplating his life altogether like he was going through the midlife crisis he had when he was twenty five again.

It’s all so tiring, but he supposes this is karma for dedicating his life to philosophy. He overthinks everything and runs himself in circles looking for answers only to end up with more questions.

Sigh.

Namjoon realizes he didn’t answer your question, when you shrug and keep walking. He has to catch up to you with only a few steps before he’s back next to you. Your hand comes up to the handle with practice and you look up at him. The same question burning behind your curious stare.

“Yes, where do you want to go?”

You smile brightly, clapping your hands in front of you. “There’s a really small fruit stand by the apartment, the ahjussi there sells the best sweet potatoes in the world.” You explain with such joy that he can’t help but feel excited as well. “I want to eat only that for dinner. I’ve really been craving it for weeks now. Jungkook used to bring me some whenever he came over after visiting you.”

Namjoon’s mouth opens in understanding and he nods. “Well, you can’t just have that for dinner. You need to eat something else.” He tilts his head and begins to push the grocery cart again.

You pout letting out a whine. “But I literally don’t want anything else except for that. I’ll even eat all three. He always gives an extra one. So, I’ll eat all four.” You follow behind him, as he lets out a chuckle.

“I know you well enough to know that if you do end up eating all four you’ll complain about your stomach hurting for the rest of the night. I’ll make you some tteokbokki.” He offers, pulling open a freezer door and taking out frozen bags of rice cakes and fish cakes.

You wave your hands in front of him. “We are totally derailing from our grocery list.”

“That’s what happens when we come to the store hungry and without a plan.” Namjoon overrides your arms and puts the bags into the cart basket.

You huff. “I did have a plan.”

“The one Seokjin gave you is not a plan but more like a work in progress.” Namjoon counteracts before moving. “Come on, We still need to get vegetables, fruits and some sort of protein. Unless you want to eat a whole weeks worth of frozen food.” He lifts an eyebrow almost as if he’s challenging you.

You roll your eyes, hitting his back lightly. “Next time, I’m going to make the best grocery plan in the world so that you won’t be able to infiltrate it.” You state before walking in front of him, your face furrowed in determination.

It's at this moment, in which Namjoon realizes that maybe letting go wouldn’t be such a bad thing. He’s already been halfway there since the infamous kiss and his talk with Jungkook. He might as well just go in head first fearlessly. Something tells him that at the end of the day it will be worth it.

So, he laughs and follows you, like it’s second nature.

In the end, Namjoon didn’t start his fast. In fact he was so hungry that he practically begged for you to split the sweet potatoes with him. He knows you won’t finish all four and they smelled so sweet that it made his mouth water.

Now, you’re both sitting in front of his coffee table, picking at the almost empty pot of rice cakes. Namjoon had practically scraped it clean with the left over rice he had fished out of the fridge. There’s an almost empty bottle of wine in between the two of you as you silently digest your meal.

“I think we should talk.” You look over at him bringing your knees up to your chest, hugging them. You’ve already showered and changed out of your workout clothes sporting an old t-shirt and gray sweatpants. Your hair is still slightly wet, curling at the ends due to the humidity because Namjoon refuses to turn on the aircon until he’s about to fall asleep to conserve electricity.

Namjoon hums, setting down his chopsticks on a napkin, he turns his body to face you, signaling that he agrees with a nod of his head.

“Can I start?” Namjoon tilts his head in question, setting down his chopsticks on the holder in front of him. You weren’t expecting for him to want to go first, especially because he always hated confrontation. He always hated admitting fault, something the two of you have in common. But for some reason it always came easy when it was just the two of you.

You nod your head as a signal for him to continue talking. He takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry for telling you all those things back then. I regretted it the moment they came out of my mouth. I wanted to apologize but I was too much of a coward and I ran away.” He confesses in one breath, bringing his knees up to his chest.

Your heart feels like it's been pierced by a thousand arrows. Each one making the dent deeper. This was the apology you had longed for for years. Not the handwritten one he sent with Jungkook. You had dreamed about it and wondered if you would have ever given him a second chance if he simply just looked you in your eyes and apologized. Yet, the logical part of you knew better. It knew that even if the apology came in any sort of form, you wouldn’t accept it.

The damage was done and you were already spiraling into your black hole with no way out. Until that one silver lining after the unfortunate incident in which you called Jungkook sobbing to pick you up from the stranger's house.

The apology you ever so wanted to hear out loud, meant nothing. Though, that didn't mean you didn’t appreciate it. It was just a little too late.

“I can’t accept your apology Namjoon.” You start, holding your hand up to stop him from speaking up, his mouth hangs open. “But thank you. It took so many years for me to let it go and accept that you will never be in my life again.” You chuckle. “It’s ironic because here we are.” You signal to your surroundings. “I won’t lie you hurt me so much but I ended up hurting myself more. I took your words to heart and spent countless nights thinking I was unlovable but never truly believing it until someone showed me I was only a disposable body to them.” You take a deep breath, closing your eyes.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath. “Y-You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He whispers, unsure if he can give you a hug because things are starting to make sense.

You shake your head. “It’s okay, I can talk about it now.” You whisper, your voice faltering in the end. You clear it and continue. “I went out with some people I thought were my friends. The night started out fine, we went for dinner and then decided to hit some clubs. By the third club, I was so drunk that I only remember pieces of it, but I remember enough. I approached him, I made out with him. He told me he and his friends lived outside of the city and if I wanted to come over. I said yes. My friends saw us leaving and they tried to stop me but then pushed me to go, so I did.” You tighten your hold around your arms a little more. “Every time I think about that night. I only remember all the times I could’ve avoided the outcome. We didn’t leave right away. We waited for his friends on some stairs and there was this ajumma who kept telling me not to go, to get away from him. And I didn’t, I stayed. I got in the car, I went into the apartment. I sat on his couch. I then laid in his bed. One of his friends came into the room and he asked me if I was okay and that if I wasn’t he would call me a taxi to go back home, but I declined. That was my last out and I decided to stay.” You rest your chin against your knees, blinking back tears. Though, you’ve partially healed from this moment. It still sits fresh in your mind. You don’t remember his face or his name but there are nights in which your head isn’t screwed on right and you remember the acid burn of his touch.

“It didn’t happen right away, but when it did I first begged him to stop because he wasn’t wearing protection. He kept going and going, while I yelled. He finally stopped when he was pleased and my stomach was stained with him. He got up, went to the bathroom, came back and fell asleep. I laid there paralyzed, feeling the naive girl in me break with every breath that I took. I didn’t know what to do. I somehow convinced myself that it was okay, and I didn’t call your brother until the following morning. I don’t really remember if I slept or not. I don’t remember getting up and getting dressed. All I remember is waking up in your brother's bed with him, Jimin and Tae sleeping on the ground.” You finish, running your thumb underneath your eyes to wipe away the remaining tears.

It’s amazing how every time you talk about it, it always feels like you can start anew. Like you’re still subconsciously carrying that weight and it only gets lighter when you let it out. Still, there’s some part of you that is terrified to look over at Namjoon. You aren’t sure if you should’ve said anything or if it was too soon.

What you don’t expect him to say is, “Can I give you a hug?” Because despite his heart being able to hold different kinds of what he thinks could be love. Affection and comfort is not his strong suit. So, you nod and melt into his arms when they circle around your shoulders gently. It feels ghostly. Like they’re not really there because he’s afraid you’ll break. But he’s always been full of surprises and lately as much as you hate to admit it he’s been surprising you a lot. Both in good and bad ways.

He rests his cheek on top of your head and closes his eyes, sniffling. He started crying eons ago. His eyes were already watering from the start and yet he still has nothing to say. “I’m sorry, you were never unlovable. I shouldn’t have said that.” He whispers, “You were the most precious person in my life at the time and I was afraid of losing you, but I guess I did so anyway. I hate that I wasn’t there for you, and I know that if I hadn’t said what I said, you wouldn’t have been in that situation in the first place.” He whispers into your hair, finally letting go of his fear and hugging you tightly.

“It’s not your fault Joon.”

“And it’s not yours either.” He counteracts, twinkling his fingertips down your arm, his hand encases around yours, spreading your palm to fit his fingers in between the spaces of your own. “I’m sorry for kissing you the other night and being such an asshole about it after. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.” You grin, sniffling.

Namjoon sighs, before finally intertwining his fingers with yours. I’m sorry for telling you that I loved you and then not remembering it. But please believe me when I tell you that I didn’t sleep with anyone that night I really don't remember ever bringing somebody home. I don’t know what happened, if I was drugged or if I really drank to the point of blacking out, but I really don’t remember.” He says almost begging towards the end. You hold his hand tighter and nod your head in acknowledgment.

The strings of your heart start being plugged like the strings of a guitar that is out of tune. You hope with everything in your being that nothing like what happened to you happened to him, because you know what it feels like. You know what it feels like to lose that part of you and spend years looking for it. Only to realize that it’s gone and never coming back. Only to realize that the one thing you can do is let go and build it up again piece by piece. This time stronger.

“I’m sorry, Joon, I don’t know if we will ever know but I can be there for you if you ever do end up remembering something.” You hold him tighter and he does the same with you. You stay like that basking in the silence that’s grown to be a sort of comfort in the past few hours. You forget about all of the fights and snarky comments. Except for the one prying question you’ve had lingering in the back of your mind.

“Can I ask you something?” You tilt your head to the side, his face is so close to yours that you can still smell the wine and kimchi lingering in his breath.

“Anything.” He grins, moving his head a little up to give himself a little more view of your eyes. They’re twinkling like the midnight skies the two of you used to wish the city had. He never found the stars with the amount of light pollution from all the skyscrapers, but he always found them in your eyes.

His heart jumps.

“Did you really mean it that night?” You begin, “That you loved me.” You whisper the last part so low that he’s thankful the house is silent because otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to hear you.

Namjoon is at a crossroads. He’s unsure of what to say or what the correct answer should be. Yet, he doesn’t want to lie, and remembers the promise he made tonight with Jungkook sitting by his side.

Let go.

“I loved you the minute we sat in that coffee shop, mourning over our unfortunate break ups while sharing that stupid cake.”

For the second time since entering each other's life, both of you give in. Instead of him being the one to move first. It’s you.

You hesitate, until he nods in approval and finally you kiss him.

213 notes · View notes

silkythewriter · 6 months

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Silky,dear... if you don't mind, could you please do a headcannon for Dee with strawberry s/o. She's so cheerful,kind and understanding ❤️ please. I love your blog,And I've admired you for a long time😭✨

❤︎︎“I love everybody because I love you”❤︎︎

Warnings: might be a bit OOC! Haven’t written about him in awhile I apologize!

Fandom: metal family!

Author note: HIHI!!! OMG TYSM?! UR SO SWEET (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃AHH I LOVE THIS REQUEST TYSM!! please request again this was absolutely AWSOME to make

Summary: Your boyfriend Dee, was one hell of sight, but with you happily walking with a cheerful bounce with him you can imagine the stares you get for the contrast. One doll of a person and then the blond who almost looked straight out of the dead with his dark eyeshadow.

❤️Written by silkythewriter Do not steal or repost on any other platform please! <3.❤️

ミ★❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎ミ★

“I love it when you look my way”

ミ★❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎ミ★

The contrast between you and him is like day and light, and when you both come strolling by weather that be passing by the local convent shop. Or making a quick stop to a store that’s peeked your interest, eyes were bound to wonder. The stares were noticeable, but you guys have gotten use to it, cause your love for him couldn’t be dented by a pair of curious eyes.

Your personality peeked his interest, I mean who could be this kind and caring??, no less to just some normal people who haven’t impacted you in any significant way. It just made him…confused? (-∀-💦)

The way your kind eyes stared at him Tugged at his heart in an alarming (at least to him) way! The blush that spreed across his face the first time you gave him a sliver of kindness was to much for him.

Your cheerfulness always brightened him up especially after tough interactions with glam. Railing up and you being the only one to comfort him back to his collected self. And even if he doesn’t vocalize it he is very much grateful <3.

You make it point to make him feel understand-ed and would never make him feel alienated by his interest un like some un kind people. You let him rant about his newly found obsession or just show off a new skill he learnt.

Even small things like you congratulating him on a good score he got, or maybe for remembering the smallest thing, even commenting on his intelligence. It’s not like his teachers, just thanking him for being the only knowledgeable student, but instead asking more questions to learn more about the topic, and really see how much he knows. And though he doesn’t like being bombarded questions he deems stupid, when it comes to you it makes him like seeing the shock and awed look you give him. Can you blame him? Not only is it adorable but he likes showing off in front of you.

He would rather be dead then admit this but he loves the way you smell like strawberry, he would take this to his grave before admitting this he finds it embarrassing ( =ω= )

Let’s you do his eye shadow only because of how delicate and caring you are with it, you always make sure to take your time so you don’t hurt him little moments like that is what he absolutely adores about you!

I feel like he gets easily flustered by physical touch so whenever your get happy just by seeing him and hug him you can look up and see him red as a strawberry (≧◡≦) ♡

Whenever he goes shopping in the off chance he has some money to spend after he’s done grabbing some clothing he always makes sure to drop by your favorite store. Weather that be a cute accessory story, or a small bakery you might have said you enjoyed, either way he always makes sure he has left over money. So whenever he has a bag filled of random darkly colored clothing only to walk into a store and buy you some pink clips for your hair you can imagine the cashiers surprise. Dee though a bit embarrassed doesn’t care much it’s worth seeing your bright smile at the small item.

Heavy absolutely ADORES you! Literally bouncing off the walls when you come walking in with his brother. He was at first taken a back from how much polar opposite’s you and Dee are but quickly got over it after realizing how sweet you are!.

Heavy definitely teases Dee jokingly before running off after Dee’s had enough you get to sit as you see them bicker you find it amusing but always make sure to help Dee calm down! ( ´͈ ◡ `͈ )

Secretly has the same perfume brand you use and sprays it on his bed or around his room at night because it reminds him of you and comforts him but I didn’t tell you that! (▰˘◡˘▰)💦

He gets jealous easily especially when everyone gets so quickly comfortable with you cause of your inviting personality, he dose poorly to hide this but also hates being called out for it especially by his brother.

But just by you hugging him and saying comforting words makes it all go away, you just know how to make him melt in the best possible way.

But with that all said you basically have him wrapped around your little finger. And though he hates to admit it, he wouldn’t have it any other way <3.

ミ★❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎ミ★

AH WOW IM RLLY RUSTY (๑•́ω•̀๑)💦 I haven’t made head-canons in a hot minute, so I am so sorry if he’s OOC or their not the best, BUT THANK SM THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE ESPECIALLY FOR MY FIRST HEADCANONS IN AWHILE!! ٩(ᐛ)و

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bugs1nmybrain · 20 days

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Well now I think you should totally give us a version of Somnophilia where L gets woken up to female reader giving him a blowjob which leads to drowsy early morning sex.

Only if you want to though ^^

Sleeping Beauty pt. 2 - L Lawliet x Fem!Reader: Morning Sex

Author's Notes: This has been in my asks for MONTHS. I think it is time :0. I'm very sorry that I haven't been writing as many fics lately, I have been very very busy. I hate it ;(

MINORS DON'T INTERACT

Warnings: fem-reader, somnophilia/morning sex, smut (18+), oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, a cheesy joke at one point that ruins the mood, cowgirl position, reader doesn't cum but implied to after the story, not proofread

Notes about the reader: female reader, described as having small hands

Extra note: I realize I lied and originally said there were no pronouns used and totally forgot that he uses a gendered term at the end. I'm so sorry!!!!

The heat of the rising sun cracked on L's face, contrasting with the cool breeze of the room's AC. L was known for his insomniac drive, but even he was human. After many days of not sleeping, he'd start to see shadowy figures out of the corner of his eye and occasionally the sound of the bell would pay a visit. That's when he knew he had to sleep. He usually would doze off and like the snap of a finger wake up again, only it would somehow be over half a day later.

The heat of the sun on his face was comforting, considering every other part of his body, especially his feet, was so chilly that he felt like rotting in this bed. The bed that you insisted he sleeps in, otherwise he would've been out in his desk chair and it would likely fall over at some point.

The sleep-drunk and chilly state he was in was so heavy that he had hardly noticed that another part of his body was feeling warm. And wet. He recognized the feeling well, and the mouth that was attached. He peeked down to see just as he suspected.

L never grew tired of seeing you. Through all the hyperboles he told you about how stunning you were, somewhere in there was a genuineness that he struggled to accept. Not because he didn't care for you, but because he did so much. So much that he was afraid something abrupt would eventually happen and he'd lose you, and lose this connection that he secretly craved.

Though, those deep-seated worries could surely wait. He looked down through lidded eyes, watching as you had your small hand wrapped around the base of his cock and trying your best to accommodate his cock in your mouth. Your eyes were also lidded with your eyelashes looking beautiful as you traveled your soft lips against his length. He could tell that you hadn't even noticed that he was awake.

As you trailed your tongue up his cock with your eyes still closed, he sighed and let his head fall back onto the pillow. You continued your movements up and down his cock, pulling back his foreskin to get to the sensitive skin under.

"A-ah!" L shuddered quietly. His sudden noise startled you and your mouth moved off of him with a quick "pop". He grunted at the absence of your mouth and looked down at you. The sight of your flushed, wet lips and alertness struck a chord in him, making his cock throb under your hand.

"Is this your way of getting me back?" he chuckled, reaching his hand down to pet your hair.

You grinned shyly with your answer, "An eye for an eye."

Without giving him many options to respond, you continued bobbing your head on his cock. You used your tongue to slide along his base as you guided yourself. L's leg jolted slightly at the sensitivity, and he continued to sigh in pleasure while gently holding onto your scalp.

"Fuck, y/n.." he whispered under his breath.

"Mhm~"

You were certainly eager, though you felt your throat struggle as you attempted to take all of his cock down. You tried to be pornographic, but your gag reflex soon kept you humble and you choked unexpectedly.

You moved away from his cock and coughed, holding the back of your hand to your mouth to conceal yourself. L felt himself grow even more aroused at your attempts to please him beyond your comfort, and the tears that wallowed from it. Though, he was not going to tell you that.

"Hey, how about you come up here, hm?" L rubbed your head, looking at you now with his 69% awake face. You nodded and crawled up to rest beside him.

"I wanted to finish that," you say, disappointed in yourself.

"That's alright. Practice makes progress. I don't want you to hurt yourself," L reassured you, placing his hand at your waist to pull you closer. He kissed your cheek, which was hot to the touch. "Let's try something different."

He pulled at your t-shirt, exposing your bare breasts to him and shortly after, your panties as well.

"Can I ride you?" you ask.

"Hm?" L questions, still tired. "Oh. Yes, of course. Do as you wish, darling."

You beamed him a smile and steadily rested yourself on top of him. You worried if you were heavy, considering he was noticeably frail and light. L seemed to be able to tell what you were thinking as you looked puzzled on top of him.

"You're alright. Keep going."

Taking his cock in your hand, you adjusted yourself upwards and slowly began sinking down on him.

"Mmm.." L tilted his head back, absolutely enthralled by the view.

You moaned as well, moving yourself to grind on top of his cock, feeling up your sensitive cunt. L's hands rubbed up from your thighs to your hips, relishing in your wet pussy and the way your body moved on top of him. Your body was enough on its own to make him pre, but the lust on your face, lust that he knew was for him, made him feel better.

The sounds filling the room were overwhelming. You could both feel yearning waves of pleasure riding through your bodies, engrossed by each other's sex. Your body's rhythm bouncing on top of him made you feel incredible, with L's face flushed pink and a bit of sweat covering his forehead.

"Mmfh..y/n, I'm close," he groaned, gripping onto your waist. He pulled you down onto him each time you lifted up, trying to feel your sleeve as much as he could.

"You can. Please cum for me.."

More moans and whines exited your throat as the sensation of his cock, hands, and sounds drove your libido rampant. And L could say the same for you.

"Mmmm~!" you squealed out in pleasure. L lost composure and you could feel his hips thrust up into you as he shook.

"Awh.." His hands gripped your sides as he came deep and heavy in you, his body falling limp otherwise as he remained inside of you as you both tried to recover.

"You're incredible," he hummed with a gentle smile. You giggled and lifted up, falling down beside him. You snuggled your arms around him and gripped onto his shirt (he kept it on, he does a lot during sex).

"No you," you retaliate.

"Mhm, if you say so," he looked over at you holding him close and placed a kiss to your temple. "You didn't cum."

"Oh."

"Let me fix that," he rubbed your shoulder as he said so.

"You don't have to," you say and his fingers already begin trailing in between your legs.

"Please, indulge me. Besides, as you said, "an eye for an eye." What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't?"

"A normal boyfriend," you joked.

"Well, I've never been known to be normal. Neither have you. Be a good girl and let me play with you, alright?

Here's a song that's appropriate for this fic lol

#l lawliet #l lawliet x reader #l lawliet smut #l lawliet x reader smut #l lawliet x fem reader

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bendycxmet · 6 months

Text

Makeup, Makeout—Vash the Stampede

Summary: Relaxing one night with Vash leads you to wanting to do makeup on him, and leads to more than you could have hoped for.

Word Count: ~2.1k

Pairing: gn!reader x Vash the Stampede

Content: modern AU, tension, teasing, some heavy making out, makeup, overall fluff

“Yo Wolfwood, you going anywhere today?” Vash peeked into his friend’s doorway.

“Want me out for a specific reason?” inquired Wolfwood from his desk in the corner of his dimly lit room, the only light coming from his computer screen as his lithe fingers danced over the keyboard, furious clicks sounding as he shot away at the enemy team. “Playing hooky? Thought that was my job.” With a quick glance, Wolfwood glanced at his blonde roommate, fidgeting with his vermilion hoodie, shrinking into the cotton material under his gaze.

Wolfwood snickered.

“They’re coming over aren’t they?” Vash sheepishly hummed at his friend’s guess, hinting to him that his guess was right as ever. Wolfwood sighed, pausing his game and removing his headphones so that he can turn to face Vash.

“Vash, when are you two going to finally date each other? We all can only handle so much pining between you two,” he said, referencing the times he, Milly, and Meryl all shared exasperated looks at the only two in the room that didn’t realize they had feelings for each other.

“Give me a break? I don’t even know if they like me!” Vash groaned.

Wolfwood sighed. “Yeah yeah I’ll head out tonight to the girl’s apartment upstairs and give you two lovebirds your time alone.”

Living in the same apartment building as your friend group can really come in handy sometimes. You were more comfortable living with the girls, obviously, since they cleaned up after themselves and weren’t as noisy as the boys rooming a floor away.

“Thank you…I appreciate it. It’s been a long week for them. They just wanted to have a movie night with me. No offense to you guys.” Vash chuckled, not blaming you for wanting to avoid the others, seeing as they were more…energized in their interactions half the time.

“Don’t sweat it. Already knew. Milly and Meryl texted me earlier inviting me to theirs so we could eat out at the new noodle shop since they said they saw how restless you seemed. We all know that means they want some alone time to recharge with their favorite person…” Wolfwood insinuated, winking at Vash. “Don’t have too much fun tonight.”

~~~~~~~

“Can I give you a rocker look?”

“Huh?”

You and Vash were cuddled together on the couch, watching some seasonal movie on TV as the end of the year was finally upon you two. You felt extremely cozy, a large plush blanket covering your body, your arms wrapped around his middle, smushing your face into his shoulder as you peered up at him, his arm softly placed on your back. He could hardly take the way your eyes peered up at him.

It had been rainy that day, thick fluffy clouds slathered across the sky, a cold that licked at your skin all day until the warmth that radiated from Vash chased away the chills you had.

The boys’ apartment, although weirdly put together in their decorations, was welcoming. Vash’s plants lined the wall that welcomed in the sun’s rays the most, not a leaf out of place. Poorly strung lights were loosely strewn across the ceiling, illuminating the living room in a warm glow, reflecting off the group pictures hung on the walls. The sky peeking in through the blinds revealed that it was blue hour, a contrasting gloomy blue to the warm tones of Vash’s apartment. All of these components proved to be a perfect spell for you to fall asleep on his couch. You needed something to wake yourself up.

“Yanno. With makeup,” you deadpanned, as if it was the obvious answer to his bewilderment.

“But…why? We don’t have any makeup here.” Vash tilted his head to the side, looking more like a confused puppy than ever.

“I think you got the perfect face for a rocker look.”

You could never tell him that it’s because he was already gorgeous, you were just curious how much prettier he could be with makeup on.

“Besides, I have my makeup on me right now.”

“...were you planning on this?” Vash teased, squeezing your sides as a toothy grin fought to crack his face. You squealed at his movements, sadly having to wrench yourself from his warmth.

“No! Mmm… maybe… anyways! I thought it would be good practice!” With that, you got up and quickly gathered your supplies from your bag. Black eyeshadow and eyeliner, a simple look that no doubt will send you to your knees once you saw it on him.

“Hmm, ok how should I go about this…” you looked around, first glancing to his bedroom wondering if the dingy light in the bathroom would be enough. Yet, he was much taller than you, so peering up at him would hurt your neck…

“Uhh, we could just do it right here, no? I mean, it’s comfortable,” Vash offered from where he lounged on the couch.

“I guess you’re right!” With that, you plopped yourself down. Only, you don’t know what got into you. Or how shameless you were in that moment. Well, with how you were seated in Vash’s lap, knees on either side of his legs as you rummaged around in your makeup bag.

Vash froze. He was warm before, but now he felt hot. He peered at you as you grabbed a makeup palette, opening it and looking at your options, oblivious to the effect you had on him. You were rambling about how you came across this look, seeing a tutorial online earlier in the day and feeling inspired to try it on him as the guy in the video had similar features to the man between your thighs.

“Ok, ready. Close your eyes for me,” you said, opting to use your finger for the black eyeshadow. Doesn’t need to be perfect.

Vash rushed to close his eyes before you made eye contact, hoping you couldn’t see how wide his eyes became from your previous movements.

You hummed as you gently swiped the pigment onto his pale complexion, perfectly content and focused with the task at hand. Vash fought to keep his breathing under control so as to not reveal how fast paced his heart was, the action proving difficult as he felt your warm breath swoop over his cheeks, the scent that is so uniquely you filling his nostrils, indicating just how close you truly were.

Vash felt you lean back, thanking the heavens he was able to get a second to clear his mind of you. This was short lived as he felt you lean back in.

“Alright, now I need you to open your eyes for me. I gotta do the eyeliner on your bottom lid.” Vash breathed, slowly opening his blue eyes to stare down at a spot on your shoulder, avoiding eye contact.

“Heyy~ I need you to look up now.”

He looked up at the low hanging lights, choosing to focus on one bulb. You went to work again, slowly adding the eyeliner to his lower lids. You were nearly done with the second eye when a shuddering breath reached your ears. The haze in your mind from focusing on applying makeup cleared, a veil seemingly lifted from your senses. When had you gotten so close?!

Shit. Vash nearly made it through your routine, just up until you leaned impossibly closer to him. The moment the warmth radiating off your face connected with his, your chest flattening against his, he couldn’t help the staggering breath that left him. The position you two were in was becoming too intimate.

You took a deep breath before taking in the sight before you. Damn, you did a good job. The onyx pigmentation contrasted perfectly with everything that is Vash. His fair skin. His wonderfully blue eyes that were always regarding you with such kindness and reverence. He was a sight to behold. He was hot.

Your senses were completely engulfed by Vash, your surroundings blurring. His light floral scent, his warmth that came from where you two were touching, his wet, slightly parted lips…his heaving chest… wait. What the hell is going on?

It was finally then that you realized what you had been up to for the past five minutes. You were seated, too comfortably, in his lap. Your proximity to him could be labeled as promiscuous with how your thighs were hugging his.

“O-Ok, I think I’m done. You’re making me jealous! How dare you have better eyelashes than me. Anyway, you look really cool! Let’s go look in the mirror!” you rambled, reeling from your revelation.

Get out. Abort. Move away, goddammit! You’re cutting it close! Your mind all but screamed at you.

You went to push away from him, but you found yourself not budging an inch. Confused, you looked down, seeing Vash’s lean arm grasping your back, keeping you close to him.

~~~~~~~

“You’re a coward.”

“Excuse you?!” screamed Vash, his words slurred as Wolfwood kept him upright on their walk home from the club.

“All that liquid courage and you didn’t make a single damn move on them?? No matter how drunk everyone in that club was, people could tell how in love you two were!” Wolfwood pressed.

The group had gone out on a chilly Saturday night, searching for a fun time, choosing to head into a local club, where they all got positively hammered. Everyone had several rounds of tequila, you and Vash taking the lead and stumbling on the dancefloor. The entire night, the remaining crew rolled their eyes at your blatant affection for one another. Your hands were around Vash’s neck, his hands protectively encircling your back as you two danced song after song, bodies closely swaying to the beat, in your own worlds until Vash had to run to the bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach.

“We were just dancing, like everyone else!” Vash yelled.

“If only you saw it from our point of view…prove me wrong. Next time.”

“Whaa…?”

Wolfwood breathed a sigh of relief as they entered their apartment building.

“Next time you’re that close to them, make a move. Normal friends don’t usually get that close to each other. Time and time again.”

Although Vash was drunk out of his mind that night, he managed to catch every single one of Wolfwood’s critiques. Wolfwood’s recommendation managed to lodge itself in the recesses of his mind.

~~~~~~~

His pupils were dilated, probably matching the way yours looked at that moment. You shuddered as his hand slowly moved up to caress the back of your head. You didn’t dare move away this time.

Make a move. Wolfwood’s words echoed once again in his head.

Yeah, maybe I will. With that final thought, he closed the tiny distance you had created.

Warm. That’s all you felt in that moment. You had imagined countless times what it would feel like to finally kiss him, but none of your childish fantasies lived up to this moment. His plump lips were soft as they moved against your own, pulling gasps and full-body shivers from you. He angled both your heads, deepening the kiss. He groaned at your reciprocation, the arm around your waist squeezing you tighter against him, unknowingly brushing you against his hips. Your arms went to hug his shoulders at the same time his hand came up to carefully cradle your jaw, his thumb swiping across your cheekbones. You were panting into his mouth at this point, all oxygen leaving your body at the deep kisses he was giving you, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip as a heads up before delving in to explore and get to know a new part of you.

He’s gonna be the death of you.

He hoped you could understand him. In the kisses he gave you, he hoped you could hear his confessions of love and admiration he has harbored for you, his apologies for taking so long to give them to you. One day, he would say them out loud. Not today, though. What you both needed at this moment was each other’s physical presence finally molding and mixing together.

~~~~~~~

3am. That’s gotta be enough time for those lovebirds. Wolfwood sleepily pondered, key turning in the lock to his shared apartment.

"Let us know how they are! They haven’t responded to our texts for awhile now. That’s gotta mean something!" The girls’ voice rang in the back of his head. Crossing the threshold, Wolfwood’s eyes immediately fell on the pair on the couch.

He snickered. You were in a peculiar position, arms and legs wrapped around Vash’s hips and waist, your sleeping face tucked into his neck, soft, even breaths occasionally blowing against the blonde’s skin. It was as if your unconscious body was unwilling to let go of Vash now that you finally had him. Your head failed to cover the circular bruises littered on Vash’s neck, your own neck mirroring his.

Vash shyly met Wolfwood’s eyes. Although the room was dimly lit, Wolfwood could see Vash’s face had been beet red.

“You two really are idiots.”

A/N: thx for reading! everything is crossposted on my ao3

masterlist

divider by saradika

#vash x reader #trigun x reader #vash the stampede x reader #trigun #trigun stampede #tristamp #vash the stampede #vash fluff #vash x reader fluff #vash the stampede x reader fluff #bendycxmet writes

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