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sunkissed-zegras · 1 month

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𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 ─ LH⁴³

౨ৎ ─ summary | requested ! can u write rough car smut with luke hughes please 🫶🏻🫶🏻 -> luke storms out of your friend's party because of a "good-natured" comment, causing you two to get into an argument in his car but quickly make up.

─ word count | 2k

─ warnings | SMUT with teensy bit of plot!!!!!!! slight angst, car sex (obvs), jealous!luke, rough!luke (not too much tho), unprotected p in v, no prep, dumbification (pls idk if this is the right word for it) but like VERY LITTLE, praise, luke being PUSSY DRUNK, choking (but not really), and pretty sure nothing else.

─ taglist | @dancerbailey @maryleclerc @valluvsu @bowen-power @bunting58 @daisysnhl @daisysthings @hearts-4-luke @iminlovewithtz11 @jackhughesily @literatureluster @lvrzegras @lxvelyzoe @ru-kru

─ ev's notes | this is quickly turning into a luke hughes fan-page (even tho i'm supposed to be in MY QUINN HUGHES ERAAAAA) request some stuff!!! my requests are open rn!!!!!!!

ALL IT TOOK WAS one backhanded comment and Luke was out of there.

He was practically dragging you at this point, his hands gripping yours as he walked out of the room. It didn't take a whole lot to realize he was angry ─ he was fuming. His jaw clenched, and his steps were sharp and quick, he needed to remove himself from the situation before he said or did something he might later regret.

You struggled to keep up with his fast pace, feeling the tension radiating off him like heat from a flame. His grip on your hand was almost painful but you knew better than to protest or try to slow him down. When Luke was in this mood, it was best to let him cool off on his own terms.

You reached the car and he dropped your hand, opening the driver's door and getting inside. He didn't bother saying anything as he started the car as soon you got into it. You wanted to say something but you knew if you did, you will never hear the end of it.

You and Luke had gotten invited to one of your friend's get-together. Now this would be a normal occurrence if it weren't for the fact he strongly dislikes your friend. You knew why but it honestly didn't seem that big of a deal ─ your friend wasn't really a big fan of sports.

You knew the root of Luke's dislike for your friend stemmed from their differing interests. Luke, being a professional hockey player, lived and breathed the sport. It was his passion, his livelihood, and his identity in many ways. On the other hand, your friend couldn't care less about sports.

Now this all would not be a problem if your friend had a weird thing with teasing Luke. He really enjoyed getting a rise out of him but it wasn't like he targeted Luke, that was just how he was.

As the car hummed along the road, the tension inside it seemed to thicken with each passing mile. Luke's knuckles were white against the steering wheel, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack.

"Luke, we need to talk about this," you spoke up (despite your better judgement). You couldn't really find the words to put it lightly. He was being too sensitive, you wanted to say.

But of course, you couldn't. That was mean. You glanced back at the brunette, sympathy written all over your expression.

Luke shot you a sharp glance, his eyes flashing with anger. "What's there to talk about?" he snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. "Your friend was out of line, and I'm not going to stand around and be disrespected like that."

"He wasn't trying to disrespect you, Luke," you countered, your voice rising slightly. "He was just joking around, like he always does."

"Well, maybe his idea of a joke isn't as funny as he thinks," Luke retorted, his grip on the wheel tightening even further.

You shook your head, feeling your temper flare. "You're being too sensitive," you shot back, unable to hold back your frustration any longer. "He's my friend, Luke. I'm not going to just cut him out of my life because you can't take a joke."

You knew you'd stepped over the edge, crossed a boundary you shouldn't have. Regret seeped into your expression as Luke's anger seemed to triple, if that was even possible. Your mouth hung open, trying to say something, anything but nothing came out.

Luke's expression darkened at your words, his jaw tightening even further as he processed your response. The silence in the car grew heavy, suffocating, as both of you grappled with the weight of your words.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Luke spoke, his voice low and laced with barely-contained fury. "So that's how it is, huh?" he muttered, his gaze burning into yours.

"Luke, I'm sorry... I just-" You stammered, desperately trying to backtrack. "I just..."

But before you could finish your sentence, Luke's words cut through the air like a knife, his anger now laced with a bitter edge.

"He's a little bitch, why are you trying to defend him so badly?" Luke's gaze bore into you as he spoke. "I bet you he can't even skate correctly and he's over here talking about hockey like he knows anything about it."

As he continued to speak, his voice was filled with something more than just mere anger. You could practically feel the jealousy radiating off of him and finally, it made sense ─ he was jealous. Your heart almost did a flip, it was... kinda cute.

Despite the venom in his words, your lips began to curve into a small smile. Luke looked over and his anger seemed to turn into utter irritation.

"Why are you smiling?" His words came out harsh but you just shook your head.

You shook your head, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to spread across your lips. "I'm not laughing at you," you assured him, though your tone was light. "It's just... you're cute when you're jealous."

"Jealous?" He repeated, angry coursing through his body. "Of him? Why? It's not like he stands a chance against me in anything. Jesus, Y/N. Jealous?"

"I didn't mean it like that," you said quickly, reaching out to touch his arm in a gesture of reassurance. "I just meant... it's cute when you get all protective. Like you care about me."

Luke's expression softened slightly at your explanation, though the tension in his shoulders didn't ease. "Of course, I care about you," he said gruffly, his tone still tinged with irritation. "I hate that guy. So much, I don't think I've ever hated anyone more. And seeing him flirt with you-"

"What?" You interrupted. "Luke, he's not flirting with me."

Luke glared back at you, trying to suppress an annoyed groan. "Trust me, Y/N. I can fucking tell. You're just too friendly to get it. But you're my girl, I don't why he wants to one-up me. You're already mine."

"I am, I am yours." You repeated, your gaze softening slightly.

Luke looked back at you, his gaze filled with smugness and a maybe even desire. "Yeah," he replied breathlessly. "You fucking are." His voice was low and you felt his voice go right down south.

He pulled over the car and you felt your whole body burn up. He put the car in park and looked over at you, his gaze filled with desire. You knew you couldn't have him waiting so you just crossed over to him and straddled his lap.

Luke didn't waste any time ─ he grabbed your jaw and kissed you harshly. You let out an uncontrollable whimper at that, his touch almost bruising on your jaw. His lips drew lower, letting go of your jaw as he began kissing your neck.

You couldn't help but let out quiet whimpers, letting your head fall back.

"Mine," he mumbled against your neck with each kiss on your neck. You began grinding your hips against his and you felt his hard-on right on your clothed cunt, your whole body shaking with desire.

He stopped his actions and you let out a huff of disapproval. He gestured for you to move in the backseat and you did with no question, laying back as Luke got on top of you.

He slid your hips upward before taking ripping your leggings off. His touch was harsh but you didn't mind ─ Luke usually took his time with you and was much softer but you knew his mind was racing with jealousy. And you didn't wanna admit but you were kind of hoping for this outcome when you had first got into the car.

He pulled down his sweatpants and you could see his cock bulging out of his boxers. His head fell back in pleasure as he pulled himself out, the tip an angry red as pre-cum was leaking out of it. Luke let out a groan as he gave himself a few pumps before he slid your underwear to the side.

Usually, Luke was patient enough to stretch you out with his fingers but not tonight; he just needed to fuck you dumb, til your legs were shaking the only thing playing in your was him.

He leaned forward so he could pull you into a needy kiss before he slid his cock inside of you slowly. His kiss was sloppy as you let out a moan into it as he slowly bottomed you out. You felt the burn, Luke was pretty big and the lack of prep added some pain but you knew it would dissipate.

"Ah, fuck." Luke moaned into the kiss before he pulled away. He bottomed you out pretty quickly, you were so wet that he just slipped right in. "Fuck, baby. You feel so fucking good."

You whimpered in response before Luke slid his hands up to your neck, holding you tightly before he began thrusting in and out. His other hand was planted right on your hips, his grip firm. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head as you arched your back in response, the previous mentioned pain quickly turning into pleasure.

"You're mine," he grunted as he quickened his pace. He pulled your legs all the way to rest on his broad shoulders, fucking you from a new angle.

He was hitting in all the right spots, you could barely see straight. All that was coming out of your mouth were moans and unintelligible strings of praises and curses.

"Feel so fucking good, Jesus." Luke felt himself slip, your pussy felt so good and knowing that you were only for him, that he was the only one who's ever been this deep inside of you, made his knees weak. "Ah, fuck baby."

He began fucking you into the backseat, harsher and rougher than before. You couldn't even think straight anymore, your cries louder and your legs shaking as he did. Luke felt like he was on cloud 9, you were squeezing him so good and you were so perfectly made for him, not to mention how fucking beautiful you looked; your eyes closed, your head back, your face sweaty and your mouth slightly open as you took him ─

God, he was so fucking close. He closed his eyes because he knew if he kept looking at you, he'd cum. Luke held you down by your neck as he brought down his fingers to rub on your clit harshly and before neither of you knew it, your orgasm hit you like a truck.

Your cunt tightened against him, he let out a loud groan as he head fell back. A few more deep, messy and harsh thrusts and he was spilling inside of you. He fell on top of your heaving chest, both of you trying to catch your breaths.

Your fingers found his curls and you began to run your hands through them. Sure, it'd make them all frizzy but you knew it made Luke relax. The whole car was fogged up, making your lips curve up into a lazy smile.

With a gentle sigh, you pressed a warm kiss to the crown of Luke's head, relishing in the quiet intimacy of the moment. "I love you, I'm sorry-"

"No." He interjected, finally sitting up so he could face you entirely. "I'm sorry for... being all being all possessive and jealous back there. It's not fair to you, especially when you've done nothing wrong."

You reached out to gently cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against his stubbled jawline. "It's okay, Luke," you reassured him, your voice soft. "If I'm being honest, it was kind of hot."

"Yeah, I figured." He smirk as gestured to your legs as you rolled your eyes in amusement.

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, feeling a warmth spread through you at the sight of his playful expression. "Yeah," you admitted, your voice tinged with a teasing tone. "I mean, it's nice to know you care so much."

Luke's smirk widened into a full-fledged grin, his eyes sparkling with desire. "If being jealous always ends in us fucking like that, then maybe I should do it more often." he quipped, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. You giggled as he did so, relaxing in his touch.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 10 months

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snowfall

summary: when she’s young and in between foster families, she meets a scrawny kid named Simon. Simon sits to the side while the other kids play, and she gives him her sandwich. When he leaves, forced to go back to his dad, she feels bad for him.

Then, when she gets older, she realizes that Simon was the lucky one. He made it out.

notes: based on the song snowfall, bc I’ve been listening to it and thinking about this fic a lot lately

warnings: mentions of abuse, human trafficking and childhood trauma. Violence. Allusions to smut? Afab!reader

taglist: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins (hmu to be added to any taglist!)

masterlist | requests are OPEN!

You’re back to square one, where you always end up when a foster family lets you go. A big, grey house that was built in the sixties and not once painted afterwards, that’s square one. Makeshift beds and damp rooms, showers that smell of piss and food that has the consistency of cardboard.

The house is so terrible on the inside that everyone flees into the parking lot, a barely better place to be. In the dirt-poor areas of Manchester, it’s all anyone can ask for. The younger kids play with chalk or run around, chasing each other, while the ones your age pass cigarettes and other stuff to each other.

None of you know each other’s names, but you’ve all seen each other in passing. Kids that were left on their own, that don’t trust easy won’t talk to each other either. Not really.

It’s rare to see a new face, so the teen sitting off to the side while the others talk catches you by surprise.

He’s massively tall already, but scrawny as hell, his hair in the awkward stage between short and being grown out. His eyes flit around, meeting no one else’s.

“Haven’t seen you before.” You greet, and he barely looks up. You offer him your name, and he pauses before he responds.

“Simon.” He says finally. There’s a short silence, broken by his rumbling stomach, and you hand him your sandwich without thinking twice. You’re not a big fan of tomatoes. He hesitates, inspecting it before he takes a bite. He barely nods as you tell him you don’t like tomatoes, and you doubt he even heard you.

“What are you doing here? Never seen you before.” You attempt, trying to make conversation. He shrugs in response, and you don’t pry further.

Simon sticks to you like glue in the days afterwards, a silent shadow that towers over you. Timmy, a kid that joined a gang after feeling overly confident, tries to approach you twice, but apparently, Simon’s glower is more intimidating than his stature.

After a week and a half, a social worker interrupts a game of Uno between you and Simon, pulling him away for a conversation. That usually means one of two things: going home, or going to a family of strangers.

You never get to find out which one it is, because Simon doesn’t say goodbye. You tell yourself that he made it home, or at least made it out. He seems like the type.

***

Against your hopes, and in line with all odds, you don’t make it out. Bouncing between foster families leaves you frustrated, angry and alone. A recipe for disaster, and you know it. Two years after Simon left the grey house that smelled like a germaphobe’s nightmare, you did as well.

Barely eighteen, with no one to back you up and not a single penny on your name, that went to shit quicker than you might have thought, and you found yourself exactly where you did not want to end up: the crime scene of Manchester.

It started off with little favors. Timmy convinced you. He said it wasn’t hard to sell drugs. That you’d only have to do it a few times, and then you’d have enough money to start yourself off with a real job. Something honest.

Something that would finally get you some real security. A sense of permanence.

Over the years, little favors turned into bigger favors.

Timmy, of course, didn’t know batshit about anything, and he certainly did not care to look into things more than he had to for you. And by the time your idiot, barely not-adolescent brain realized that, you were in too deep.

You’d done everything wrong, because selling drugs for a few days ‘wouldn’t hurt anyone’.

That was how you ended up as the cliché character of anti-everything prevention movies they showed you, back in the grey house. Abused, beaten-up, trafficked, sold, and not even out of your twenties.

Each time you thought about it, you wanted to laugh at yourself, to try and stop yourself from missing the gray house and the exhausted social workers that weren’t paid enough to care for any of you.

Just this time, you couldn’t go back to the gray house. You weren’t a child anymore. This time, people came for you to make sure that you’d pay them back what you owed them. Technically, what Timmy owed them.

They, whoever they were, took you away from Manchester, the only semblance of home you’d ever known. You found yourself in an abandoned cargo hall, freezing cold. From what you could see, it was snowing outside, the chill creeping inside. The girl next to you was out like a light, either from drugs, exhaustion, the cold, or a combination of all three.

You could make peace with the fact that you would never get out. You could just accept it, like you’d accepted everything else in your life. A voice in your head screamed that it wasn’t fair, and it felt like that scream was becoming more and more real. There was a ridiculous notion in the back of your mind, telling you to get up.

It bled into the screech from the gates of the cargo hall, protesting as they were opened. Your captors pointed their guns, but thick, white smoke filled the building, and you felt yourself become suddenly sleepy.

The last thing you saw were shadowy figures storming the hall, gunfire ringing out, smoke filling your nose and mouth.

***

When you came to, the smoke had dissipated, but you were still in the cargo hall. A group of men in camouflage walked around the hall, checking the men that were lying on the floor. One of them approached you and the others.

Almost automatically, you slinked backwards, out of his reach, but he gave you a soft smile.

He was young, too young to be in a place like this, with a sweet expression on his face that felt too saccharine to belong in the midst of this violence.

“I’m Gaz.” He said. “I’m with the British army, and we’re here to take you home. Are you hurt?”

Varying reactions came from the people around you, and you felt yourself numbly nodding. Home. Had a God heard your prayer and then decided to turn it into a joke?

The doctors arrived a while later, taking a look at everyone that had been with you. Some of the girls around you were drug addicts, and going into withdrawal was never pretty. The cargo hall quickly filled with the stench of vomit and cold sweat, but it meant that you got the time to look at the men that had stormed the hall. A gruff man with sideburns, a Scot with a mohawk that was chattering away with Gaz and-

He was hulking, a mountain that wore a skull instead of a face. You’d never met someone like him in your life, but he paused when he saw you, and you knew that he’d seen you before, this behemoth of a man.

***

It takes two more days before you’re back in England, but it doesn’t feel like a homecoming. Some of the girls have people waiting for them, parents, children, boyfriends, girlfriends to run into their arms and hold. Some are like you. No one comes, and they leave on their own.

You want to follow them. You can’t go back to Manchester. You’ll only return for your papers, if those still exist, and then you’ll leave.

You’re about to finally lift your feet from the cold, concrete floor when you feel a pair of eyes burning into your back.

Turning around, you see it’s the one they call Ghost. He’s standing off to the side, and it reminds you of something. You can’t figure out what it is, even though you try so so hard to just remember.

“Thank you for getting us out of there.” You blurt out, and he looks like he wants to say something, his jaw almost cramping together as he makes a tiny movement. You think it’s towards you.

“I owed you for the sandwich.” He says. The shrug looks forced, and you know that he can’t bring himself to say something more honest. “No tomatoes, of course.”

The seconds it takes you to understand seem to tick by outside of your brain, like a clock hammering with each moment passed. Then, your jaw falls slack.

“Simon?” you ask, too loudly, and the Scot named Soap snaps his head around to stare at you.

He doesn’t reply, and he doesn’t have to. You recognize his height, his eyes, the awkward standing off to the side so suddenly that it hits you like a fucking train. How couldn’t you see it before?

This is Simon. The kid that-

“You left without saying fucking anything!” you accuse, and you’re sure the others think you’re exes.

He just nods, and that almost infuriates you. But he made it out. He made something of himself, and you have to respect that. It’s all you want, always slipping away from your grasp, and Simon got it. Carved it out for himself, by the looks of it.

And finally, after an eternity, Simon steps forward and holds out a bag with the yellow-and-green subway logo on it.

“Hope you like it.” He mumbles, and it’s an almost adorable gesture. There’s no tomatoes, as he promised. Someone remembered something from your childhood.

You take the bag, and then you take the step separating you and hug him tightly. Are you overstepping a boundary? Is he going to push you off roughly?

He doesn’t hug you back, but he does allow you to wrap your arms around him (or, as much as you can do that with his new size).

His teammates stare, but you don’t let go. Not for a while.

“You got a place to stay?” he asks, when the others have gotten over the shock of your interaction. There’s genuine concern in his eyes, and a part of you hopes that you’re special in this, because you helped him too. Somehow.

“McDonalds is always open, and I’ve got…” you reach into your pocket, finding a crumpled note. “Enough for a large drink.”

He shakes his head. He offers his apartment, his home up to you and you should say no because he could traffic you, or rape you, or hurt you just enough to make you drag yourself back to Timmy.

You get into the car with him, and your mind screams danger. Your gut’s feeling alright though, so you ignore it.

The first change beyond the obvious of his massive frame that you notice is that he’s gotten even quieter. While you drag yourself up the dark staircase with some effort, he stays true to his name, not a single scrape coming from his combat boots.

In the apartment, he switches on the light, and you take in the spartan interior. A small kitchen, a sofa, a TV, a coffeetable with a mug still on it. No dinnertable, but three pictures on the refrigerator.

A young boy, a woman that reminds you of the younger Simon (maybe his mother?) and his teammates. Gaz, Soap, the older guy, two men that you don’t recognize, standing in scenery that looks almost tropical.

He lets you stare, before he quietly shows you the bathroom. You let the lock click behind you, even though you know that wouldn’t make much of an obstacle for the person he’s become.

You shower as quickly as you can, slipping back into your underwear. You hesitate for a moment, and then you grab the big, fluffy bathrobe hanging over the towel rack. Someone had vomited on your shirt, and you refused to put it on again.

The robe was too big for you, black with white skulls on it, and you highly doubted that Simon had bought it for himself. Maybe the Scot that cracked jokes with, or rather at him, had bought it for him and he’d caved to using it.

When you walked out, Simon was pulling clean sheets over the bed in his bedroom. He lifted his head when he heard you, and even through the balaclava, you knew he was lifting a brow at you.

“You’re wearing Soap’s bathrobe.” He commented.

“Someone vomited on my shirt.”

Simon did not reply, but he did turn around to rummage in his closet, throwing you one of his old shirts. You went back into the bathroom to put it on, and decided to not comment on the fact that it looked like a midi dress on you.

He closed the door behind him when he went to sleep, and the click of the lock felt a little insulting to you. Yet, you couldn’t expect him to trust you.

Sleep did not come easy to you, and when it did, you only had nightmares.

After a particularly bad one, you woke up with a start, only to find yourself face-to-face with one of your captors, face hid behind a balaclava, and you screamed.

Only after a few moments did you realize that it was Simon.

Between your panicked apologizing, and his nervous tea-making, it took a while for either of you to speak.

“I’m sorry for not telling you I was leaving.” He said finally, sitting across from you on the sofa, and still managing to take up three fourths of it.

“You didn’t have to. You didn’t know me.” You replied.

“I clung to you.” He said under his breath, as if it was an admittance of weakness.

“I liked it. Made me feel less alone.”

Your hands found each other in the dark, his fingers curling around yours and you swore that you could feel his heart hammer in his wrist.

“I don’t want to go to Manchester alone.” You whispered. It was an admittance of defeat.

“I’ll go with you.” Simon replied. He had no incentive to.

In the dark, it didn’t feel as preposterous or dangerous to move closer to him. He stilled when your knee bumped against his leg, and you held your breath, waiting for his rejection.

It didn’t come, only a shaky breath from Simon that gave the smallest of hints about how he was feeling. His hand was still holding yours, warm and a little rough, but it felt real. It made you move closer, to try and lean into his touch.

His hand slipped from yours, and for a moment, you thought that you’d done something wrong, but then you felt it on your waist, and Simon pulled you onto his lap. Your hands flew to his chest to steady yourself, and you could feel his hammering heart beating under his shirt.

Simon was so massive that he engulfed you, drowned out everything around you, and you loved it. There was nothing but him, and that didn’t scare you. It made you feel unfathomably safe.

He hugged you suddenly, a mirror gesture to what you’d done at the airport, his thick arms wrapping around you, pulling you even closer, until your lips were almost on his and he looked up at you with something in his eyes that you couldn’t place, because no one had ever looked at you like that.

You couldn’t help kissing him. Slowly, asking, almost begging, you peeled up the lower half of his balaclava, waiting for him to tell you to stop. Instead, even in the darkness, you knew that the stubble on his jaw was blonde, because it was impossible to forget someone like him. Your lips found his and it felt so right that your hands snaked up to his jaw, cradling his face in the hope that he’d know you cared for him.

Simon returned your kiss equally as hungry, demanding the air you breathed from you, his embrace swallowing you, and you wanted to give it all to him. Your hands shook as you reached to slip them over the band of his sweats, still unsure if he’d reject you, or let you do it.

Cautiously, your hands slipped under his t-shirt first, his skin feeling like it was burning in comparison to your cold fingers, warm to the touch, and safe.

“I thought about you a lot.” You admitted between kisses. “Wanted to know what happened to you.”

Simon stilled at that, his gaze shifting, warping from one unreadable expression to another.

“Nothin’ good.” He replied finally. You felt like an idiot. Like you’d just ruined the moment.

“I’m sorry.” You said, because you had no idea what else to say. His hand found yours, and you felt like whatever was going to happen to you, it was going to be okay.

#simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley x you #cod: mwii #cod x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #ghost cod x you

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taexual · 6 months

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sleepwalking ● 12 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, some angst, DESCRIPTIVE SMUT with maybe 1 pet name and 2 jokes, a bunch of reminiscing and relentless flirting (bc jungkook is dowwnnnn badddd), praise kink if you squint?, minors please don't interact

words: 7.6k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 12 ► fall into your eyes like a grave, bury me to the sound of your name

You and Jungkook were silent for a solid fifteen minutes after you let him into your hotel room. You were both sitting on the bed, but with so much distance between you that it felt like you were on two different floors.

After your phone on the bedside table lit up for the sixth time in the last fifteen minutes, Jungkook finally spoke up.

“Your phone keeps buzzing,” he pointed out helpfully.

“Yeah.” You sighed. Being silent with Jungkook oddly felt less draining than dealing with whatever was happening on your phone. “It’s Kai.”

Jungkook nodded, remembering your brother’s misadventures the last time you two talked. He was almost happy to use that as an excuse to dance around the elephant in the room a little longer.

“How is he?” he asked. “With his broken…”

“Leg, yeah,” you finished, leaning your head against the headboard. “He’s home. Mum’s grounded him. She’s turned off the router and taken his Xbox, so he’s texting me because he’s got nothing else to do.”

Remembering how angry you were when your brother got himself into trouble and upset your mum, Jungkook asked with a small smirk on his lips, “and you had nothing to do with the Xbox?”

You shook your head. “I don’t believe it’s an appropriate punishment to withhold things from your children. I think it makes them withdraw from their parents, especially when they’re seventeen like Kai. And it makes them annoy their siblings instead,” you paused. Then shrugged. “But I’m not a parent, so easy for me to say.”

Dignified, Jungkook cleared his throat.

“You’ve contributed greatly to raising your brother,” he said in a voice full of contempt for your family’s general tendency to use the nine-year age difference between you and your brother as an excuse to have you babysit for free.

Although your heartbeat increased at the sound of his confidence—and his almost reflexive habit of defending you from yourself—your outward appearance remained composed. It was easy to appear collected when you weren’t looking at him and he felt so far away.

“And look at him now,” you said, an ironic smile on your face. “A mess.”

Jungkook snickered. “He’s really not that bad.”

Sighing again, you ran a hand through your hair and felt your fingers get caught in the last strand, only adding to your frustration with your brother.

“Sure. He’s a good kid,” you said, looking up at Jungkook. “But he tries too hard.”

Jungkook saw the parallel, he felt it. You might as well have said that about him.

At last, it seemed like the time had come to address the real reason he’d come to your room. He knew that this casual chit-chat was only temporary anyway. But if he wasn’t careful, it would be the last time the two of you spoke to each other with such ease, such familiarity.

He cleared his throat and said, “this might be the hardest conversation we have.”

He didn’t need to elaborate, you understood. And still, you thought about his words for a moment and decided to disagree.

“Or the easiest,” you said. “I mean, everything important that we could have said, we’ve pretty much said already.”

He blinked, surprised at first. Then dizzy.

There were several things he wanted to say to you, but he expected to listen to you first. He knew you wouldn’t initiate a conversation about your feelings, but he’d hoped this was different, especially considering all that you’d said to each other on the street.

It wasn’t different. You sat across from him on the bed and you looked a little uncomfortable, but not particularly confounded.

He’d expected to find you grappling with questions, armoured with rightful accusations, but you appeared settled.

Maybe it’s because it’s been four years, he realised suddenly. He hadn’t been there to watch you build your defences. He hadn’t seen your walls grow.

He worried, suddenly, that nothing he’d say would mean anything to you. He worried that the only reason you let him into your room was to deliver the finishing blow—to tell him that you were done one more time.

He switched the arm he was leaning against the bed with; his right arm was slowly going numb. Actually, so was his left, and, if he was completely honest, his whole body felt a bit like it was floating away from him, but he tried to focus on the moment.

“Uh, w-we haven’t said everything,” he said.

You looked at him. “What else is there?”

“Two things.”

Inhaling sharply, you turned away. You did not really want to continue the discussion you’d had by the canal. In fact, you didn’t think there was anything to continue at all.

You’d walked away as soon as you realised that you’d come face-to-face with your break-up. And this was it. You’ve found the reason why this could never work. Why you and him together could never work. And it was truly simple: it’s because it hadn’t worked before. You already knew it, but you enjoyed the leisure of pretending that you didn’t.

All that you two had to do now, in your opinion, was reach a formal agreement that this would be it. You’ve explored each other’s boundaries enough during this tour. The time has come to stop. To go back to your normal lives, your regular jobs and duties.

However, now that he was here, there was hesitation behind your closed eyes. You had learned that the two of you had different ideas about why you broke up. And you’d spent four years boiling in them, convincing yourselves you’ve moved on from them, then facing them head-on when you really looked at each other again.

Perhaps there were a few more things you had to talk about, after all, before you could truly put this behind you.

Finally, you nodded your head once and told him, “okay. What’s the first thing?”

“The first thing,” he started, “is that I'm sorry.”

It was well known that “sorry” wasn’t always a heavy word. People threw it around like a pebble and watched it bounce off the surface of the water, rarely ever intending for it to sink, to reach the depths not visible to the naked eye. Jungkook had been one of those people many times in his life.

But the word he used here felt different.

It carried a weight that forced him to lower his head as he said it. As if all his thoughts had been poured into this sentence – this fateful “I’m sorry” – and the heaviness of it was difficult to bear. As if he’d assigned different meanings to each “sorry” in his head, and all these little pieces suddenly added up to one big word that took up the whole room.

“For not realising what I was doing back then,” he said, dissecting the apology, “and what it meant for our relationship.”

He figured there wasn’t much that you could say that would make it easier for him to breathe – the conversation by the canal, the bet, the apology, all of it was too significant to leave much room for oxygen in his lungs.

But you said, “I forgive you.”

And it felt a lot like you were performing emergency resuscitation and successfully maintaining his brain function.

He wasn’t certain if you’d said that because it was the right thing to say, or because you’d meant it. If it was the former, Jungkook would have rather suffocated.

“You do?” he asked, unsure if he was prepared for your explanation.

“Yeah,” you said. “I didn’t know that you weren’t—that you didn’t realise why—why we broke up the way we did. And it sucks that you didn’t, but…”

You faltered here and Jungkook was keenly aware how you’d said it sucks, but you’d really meant it hurt me. It hurt that he’d been dismissive, negligent, and heedless – and had the audacity not to realise it.

He closed his eyes while you finished, “it sucks more to know that, all this time, you thought I’d just walked away for no good reason.”

An apology was on the tip of your tongue, he could sense it. Although you had many reasons to be angry with him for being so impossibly stupid, you also felt guilty because all this time, he had thought you woke up one morning and suddenly decided you didn’t want to be with him anymore. Like it was your fault that he didn’t realise he’d been taking you for granted every day for months before you broke up.

You should have been angry with him. Instead, you thought you were responsible for not explaining your reasoning properly before you left.

He couldn’t even begin to describe the ache in his chest. He wanted you so much, but more and more he realised that he didn’t deserve you.

“I didn’t try to stop you,” he said before you could say anything else, because this was another element of his initial apology. One more thing he had to be sorry for.

You shrugged with one shoulder. Over the years, you’d come up with several reasons why he never fought for your relationship, not even considering that he might have assumed you had fallen out of love with him. At the end of every day, you simply thought he didn’t care anymore.

“I thought you were okay with it,” you said. “When I told you we were over, you just stood there. You didn’t ask why and I didn’t... answer.”

“I wasn’t okay with it,” he replied. “But I didn’t think there was anything I could do.”

With a thoughtful nod, you agreed, “there probably wasn’t.”

“Yeah, but I felt that way because I assumed that you—you didn’t want to be with me. That you didn’t care about me anymore. And you, uh,” he stopped here and waited for a long minute. Finally, he inhaled deeply. “You thought the opposite.”

You probably should have shouted at each other as you discussed this, you thought abruptly. That would have been appropriate. Maybe even healthy, all things considered.

But then, perhaps the realisation that you both had different views on why you broke up was precisely the thing that softened the impact. His hurt because you’d left him without an explanation, and your anger because he made you do it—they both took up outstanding amounts of space in your chests. They weighed you down. And they almost balanced each other out.

Perhaps you weren’t ready to shout just yet. Or not anymore.

Perhaps you’d left most of the shouting in the past four years ago. Now you were finally on the verge of closure.

That was the point, after all: the two of you boasted—really, there was no other word for it, you were both proud of it—that you’d never spoken to anyone about the details of your relationship.

That could have been admirable, of course, this utter devotion to each other and no one else. Except that, you didn’t talk about your relationship with each other, either.

“Do you think this is our own fault?” you asked. “We were good at talking about everything except… well, us.”

“I know,” Jungkook was quick to agree. You had both been like this from the very beginning—that’s likely why he was never fully aware of his behaviour. You’d always argued, but never about the things that really mattered. “I nearly threw up before I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

You did a double take, your mind racing to supply you with a memory that matched his words, but coming up short.

You squinted at him. “Did you actually ask?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but let it hang there, no words coming out for a good minute.

“You don't remember?!” he accused, his voice so high-pitched that it could almost shatter glass.

“I remember going on at least five dates before someone called you,” you explained, “and I heard you say into your phone, ‘sorry, I’m with my girlfriend.’ And that’s when I assumed that, huh. I guess I’m your girlfriend then.”

Jungkook could remember this exact moment. It was Sid who had called him because the two of them were working for Sid’s grandfather fixing his Camaro at the time. Jungkook had needed the money, while Sid simply enjoyed the ‘69 classic car.

The memory sent a shiver down his spine because he recalled turning Sid down. He had prioritised you over everything back then. What had happened to him later?

Regardless – in Jungkook’s mind, the timeline of your relationship was different.

“I vividly remember asking you on our second date,” he said.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you attempted to remember the very beginning of your relationship.

Your first date was the traditional movie and dinner—although it turned into a movie and the rain when you got stuck in the park. You recalled the whole day with near-perfect clarity.

Your second date was a week later, at the carnival in town. It took you three hours to get back to your dorms, because the event was held across the forest that separated the university campus from a small town nearby. Jungkook had insisted that you could walk home, he had claimed to know the way. And then he proceeded to get you lost within a few seconds of entering the forest.

All you could remember him asking you back then, was, ‘I know where I’m going, so trust me, okay?’ and that certainly did not include any terms that specified your relationship status.

Confused if you were remembering this wrong, you asked, “when we got lost on our way home from the carnival?”

“Before that!” he was even louder now, both of his hands in the air as he frantically explained, “on the Ferris wheel! I can’t believe you don’t remember!”

“On the Ferris—Jungkook, you had motion sickness the whole time we were on it,” you reminded him.

“I wasn’t sick,” he argued. “I was nervous.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “All you said to me during that entire ride was ‘please’ when we were at the very top.”

“That was me asking!”

“That was—” You laughed in surprise before you could finish the sentence. “Okay, well, you can see why I wouldn’t remember that, considering you didn’t use a lot of words to explain what you meant. I thought you were asking me to end the ride. Not that I could have ended it, but—”

“You said yes, though.”

You didn’t think you heard him right, his tone noticeably lower compared to the agitated screaming before. “Hm?”

“When I said, ‘please?’,” he spoke, “you said, ‘yes.’”

You watched him, considering it.

“I think I was asking,” you said and demonstrated, “yes?”

“No. You made a statement,” he disagreed, showing you, “yes.”

You pursed your lips, choosing to quit before this escalated into an argument.

“Alright, fine,” you said. “Maybe I read your mind, then.”

He scoffed, turning away. “And forgot about it…”

Nevermind taking the high road.

“Well, I didn't think it meant anything,” you argued, “you were—”

“I had a different plan. I was going to fully embrace The Notebook and dangle from someone else’s seat to ask you,” Jungkook said, “but for that to work, you would’ve had to go on the ride with someone else. And at that point, I couldn’t let you sit in that cabin with someone who wasn’t me.”

You could feel your cheeks stretching as an involuntary smile spread across your lips.

“That’s a little crazy,” you said gently.

“Please,” he replied, lowering himself on your bed until he was lying on his back. “It’s just crazy. I went on a binge-watching session of romantic films before our first few dates. I did my research.”

You knew him too well not to point out, “was it really only for research?”

“Alright, after the first few, I started to really enjoy them,” he admitted, earning a knowing nod from you. He smiled in response and continued, “but then I got to know you better, and I figured that if I serenaded you like Heath Ledger did in 10 Things I Hate About You, you’d break up with me immediately.”

Your laughter sounded so sincere and calming that Jungkook felt his smile widen as he turned his head to look at you from where he was lying on your bed.

“So I became a singer instead,” he said, encouraged by the lightness in your laugh. “You can’t break up with me if singing for you is my job.”

Your stomach performed an intricate Loop-the-Loop and then dropped, seemingly down ten floors, all the way to the lobby of the hotel.

Desperate, you tried, “you’re not—it’s not—”

Noticing you were about to downplay his words—either because you didn’t think he meant it, or because you didn’t feel comfortable knowing that he did—Jungkook changed the topic instead.

“Were you angry at me?” he asked. “For not chasing you after you left that time?”

Struggling to collect the remains of your thoughts, you spoke very slowly, “I... I was angry that you didn’t put in any effort while we were still together. After that, I thought you didn’t care anymore.”

“I did,” he said. Then, realising, he corrected himself, “I do. And I didn’t want to make the same mistake again today.”

Hesitantly, you asked, “how do you mean? Because I left today?”

He nodded. “I'm not going to wait another four years before we talk about us.”

“Jungkook...” you said, but the sound of his name on your lips caused your thoughts to jumble once more. Your words stuck to your throat as your heart threw itself against the walls of your chest. You hoped to divert the topic, “y-you said there were two things. What—what’s the second thing?”

“The second thing is that I love you,” he said in one quick breath. “I took everything we had for granted, and I’m sorry. But the truth is that even then I was—I-I’d never stopped loving you.”

A sense of déjà vu clouded your mind, while the rest of your body reacted as if this was the first time you’d heard him say this. As if the four years you hadn’t been together were long enough to start a new lifetime, and now you’ve met again, reincarnated into different people – Jungkook, the vocalist of a rock band, and you, the manager.

But, buried deep in your subconscious, locked away in a box that your brain dared not touch even in a dreaming state, was the memory of the first time he’d said these words to you.

It was spring. You’d been together for about five or six months at that point, and you’d skipped class together to go to the same park where you’d had your first date. You’d spent the whole day walking around hand-in-hand, reminiscing about the past, dreaming of the future, taking pictures of the freshly bloomed cherry blossoms, and picking up the pale pink leaves from the grass to throw them at each other.

During the car ride back home, you were so exhausted that you could hardly keep your eyes open. The two of you had been running around so much—his energy was infectious, you’d both acted like Golden Retrievers set loose—that your legs felt wobbly and unsteady.

After a few more minutes, you had lost the battle against yourself and settled more comfortably into the passenger seat, closing your eyes. Your mind was already beginning to fill with the bliss of sleep when Jungkook stopped the car at a red light.

He glanced at you, seemingly asleep on the seat beside him, and leaned in to press his lips to your forehead. When he pulled back, he noticed a pale cherry blossom in your hair and a soft smile on your lips.

It was nothing more than a whisper—“I love you so much”—that slipped from his lips because he thought you were asleep. Nothing more than an overwhelmed confession as his heart drowned in his feelings.

But, to this day, nothing has ever come close to making your heart beat nearly as fast as it had in that car when the light turned green and he drove back to your dorm, still thinking you were asleep. That first confession of love remained a secret between you, him, and the stray cherry blossom nestled in your hair.

Slowly, you opened your eyes as the memory tugged at each and every cell of your skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface. You looked around the hotel room before you dared to look at him again.

Contrary to what Jungkook believed, you didn’t appear collected because you were done. Or because you didn’t want to fight with yourself about wanting him anymore.

It was because you were tired of still wanting him so much in spite of everything.

You were tired of forcing yourself to let go. To move on. To be rational and responsible.

Tired of feeling happy about things that were probably inappropriate.

Tired of finding those things inappropriate.

But rationally, you knew that you had to leave this behind and return to your normal lives after this, regardless of what you wanted.

It’d be much harder—to an infinite extent—because this wasn’t how you’d imagined this conversation going.

Quietly, you broke the silence, “I’m sorry, too.”

“Why?” he asked, sitting up on the bed.

“We can’t...” the words trailed off before you could catch up. You tried again, “I can’t—we can't do this.”

He observed the battle behind your eyes and then spoke, very softly, almost inaudibly, “we’re not doing anything wrong.”

“We’re—"

“We’re the ones who put meaning to things,” he continued. Not to contradict you, but to reassure you. “If we say it doesn't mean anything, then it doesn't.”

You shook your head with a sad smile, the situation vaguely familiar.

“It’s never that simple,” you said. “There’s so much more than just you and me to consider.”

“It is simple,” he insisted. Then, just like back in your bunk on the tour bus, he asked, “do you want me to leave?”

Just like back then, you answered without hesitation, “no.”

“Then this can have as much or as little meaning as you want it to. I don’t give a fuck,” he said. “I’m yours. You are all I’m considering. And I’m staying.”

In less than a second, the determination in his voice made you realise that rational didn’t always mean reasonable.

Rationally, you knew you should have drawn the line. You should have left or told him to leave. Should have distanced yourself from him for the sake of your heart. Your job. For the sake of the atmosphere backstage.

You were aware of all the damage this could do. You were aware of the risk. Of the questions. Of the pain.

You were aware that you were having the very conversation that you’d stopped him from pursuing a few hours ago on the street. But your response to him was vastly different now.

Really, the situation felt different, too.

The second thing is that I love you.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—

You couldn’t imagine yourself leaving.

There was no place in the whole world that you would have rather been in right now. And no one else you would have wanted to share that place with.

It felt reasonable to stay. And wish for him to stay, too.

Jungkook had to scoot closer on the bed to reduce the distance between you two, and as soon as he did, he leaned in right away. He’d hesitated before, got scared, panicked and changed his mind. Tonight, he would do nothing of the sort.

His lips touched yours before you could formulate a single doubt and his kiss effectively silenced all the noises and echoes in your head.

Truthfully, he knew that there was a third thing he didn’t tell you, but when you kissed him back, less tentatively than the first time on the bus, he couldn’t imagine ever saying anything to you again. Speaking seemed like an immeasurable waste of time.

Instead, he pulled you closer, his lips locked on yours as one of his hands held the side of your face. His gentle fingertips contrasted with the coldness of his lip ring against your lips as he touched the skin of your cheek like he wasn’t sure, not even now, that it was really you he was holding. His other hand found its way around your waist and settled there—the gesture so intimate, so familiar.

He kissed you and it felt inevitable. Like everything you’d been doing up to this point was meant to lead you here – even the break-up four years ago.

As Jungkook felt your hands on his chest, careful and barely there, he mentally cursed himself for wearing this white shirt yet again—the fabric was too thick for him to properly feel you.

Still, he recognised the ghost of your touch as though he’d never been apart from you. As though you’d always stayed like this, locked in a desperate embrace in the tenth-floor room of a hotel in Amsterdam.

There were endless somethings bursting persistently in his chest as he tasted you, deepening the kiss by bringing his tongue over yours. Fireworks and flames and entire conflagrations all wreaked havoc on his heart.

This time, there were no promises of five minutes, and no curtains to separate you from everyone else. When you whimpered quietly, in response to him pulling you up until one of your legs was thrown over his and you were seated firmly on his thigh, he was the only one who heard it. The only one who felt your heavy breathing on his lips as he kissed you.

And if, by a lucky chance, there was any oxygen left in the room, neither of you needed it as your holds on each other grew tighter, hands grasping whatever materials they could reach and pulling—until he took your shirt off, until you took off his.

Every single one of your nerve endings was focused solely on him—his taste, his scent, his touch, his warmth, the roughness of his dark jeans underneath you, the softness of the skin on his chest. Your body instinctively drew closer, prompting him to clench his thigh as he wrapped his arms around you even more tightly.

His lips gently trailed kisses down your jawline and onto your neck, and it was as intoxicating as it was overwhelming. He remembered your body—how could he forget when it haunted his dreams almost every night?—but he yearned to create new memories, to trace the lines of your figure that he’d memorised and bring them to life in a new and different way.

You helped his eager hands find the edge of your sports bra and had to briefly pull away from him to slide it over your head. He pulled you back to him as soon as you did, needing to get lost in your touch, to feel your skin against his.

Your hotel room was filled with so much electricity, the two of you could have lit all of Amsterdam up.

“There’s so much I want to say to you. So much I have to say,” he breathed against your lips while his hands caressed your exposed sides, tracing the familiar maps on your skin.

You pulled him closer by gripping the back of his neck and exhaled, “show me instead.”

The meaningfulness, or rather, meaninglessness, of the moment seemed secondary. You wouldn’t analyse what this symbolised or where you stood.

Instead, you’d analyse how kissing him—touching him, feeling his skin, hearing his breathing—felt good. How it felt right. Like you’d been lying to yourself by doing everything else but this.

Sitting on his lap as he held you firmly in his arms—essentially trapping you in his grip, in his scent, in him—you could feel the rest of the world fade away into the recesses of your mind that you didn’t consider important at this given point.

Focusing on the feeling of his tongue against yours and the firmness underneath you, you allowed the scorching heat of the moment to take control of your movements as you instinctively moved your hips against his and forced him to suck in a shaky breath.

You undid the buckle of his belt and he had to pull back just a little, breaking the kiss. His head was spinning, overwhelmed by your closeness and the rapid beating of his heart. It wasn’t the first time you had been this close, but it had been so long, and he’d wanted this so much, that it felt like he’d never done this before.

Noticing your trembling hands, he helped you with his belt by loosening his grip on your waist. As soon as your fingers reached the zipper of his pants, he grabbed your forearms—successfully halting your progress in ridding him of his jeans—and swiftly flipped you over onto your back on the bed.

Your eyes met for a split second as he hovered over you, silently exchanging a conversation that neither of you dared to voice.

He leaned in to kiss you again and allowed you to get back to the previous task. Kissing him back, you finally managed to lower his jeans to his knees, and the simple feeling of your touch on the back of his thighs nearly made him see stars. Leaning his forehead against yours, he squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip to regain his composure.

He briefly sat up to kick off his jeans—as quickly as he could, because the room temperature fell a hundred degrees when he wasn’t touching you—and you took a moment to trace the patterns of ink on his arm with your eyes.

You were with him when he got his first tattoo.

He acted tough in the tattoo parlour, but once the artist took you both down to the basement, all of his bravery faded. It was rather chilly down there—Jungkook was pouting when he took his jacket off, revealing his shivering skin—and he’d chosen his knuckles as a place for his first tattoo. It was going to hurt.

He knew that, in theory. But the way he squeezed your hand and bit his lip when the needle pierced his skin for the first time still surprised you both. You weren’t sure who was in more pain by the end of the session—him, from the fresh ink on his hand, or you, from how hard he’d been squeezing your hand.

Now, he had a full sleeve. And you felt a pang of pain in your chest, because there were so many tattoos that you hadn’t seen him get.

You hadn’t been there when the needle pierced his skin again and again. You hadn’t seen the way he closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, and placed a hand on your knee—for support, for reassurance, for all-consuming love.

You hadn’t helped him apply lotion on the fresh ink, hadn’t teased him for being a baby, hadn’t been shut up with a kiss. You hadn’t traced the intricate lines on his skin with the tips of your fingers—careful, gentle, loving.

You hadn’t been there for four years.

But you were here now.

Just as your gaze reached his shoulder, your eyes locked on the patterns you’d never touched, Jungkook turned to you and caught you staring. The dazed look in your eyes before he had even done anything affected him in more ways than he could count.

With a wide, shameless grin and a raised eyebrow, he leaned into you again. You noticed right away that he was about to say something that would surely ruin the moment, but you pressed a hand to his chest, stopping him before he could.

“Don’t,” you warned. There was humour and light and excitement in your eyes.

Chuckling as if you’d read his mind, he pressed a kiss to your lips and mumbled, “wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Liar,” you exhaled against his mouth as he quickly slid your biker shorts and panties down your hips, your back barely leaving the bed.

“Honest,” he countered in a soft whisper, his lips hovering over your neck as his hands returned to your waist and he aligned your hips with his. “I have better things on my mind.”

It was hard to determine which one of you was to blame for ending this unnecessary bickering by inhaling too sharply – you, who reached the edge of his boxers and pulled them down, removing the last layer of clothing between you; or him, who gently caressed your thighs, drawing deliberately slow, teasing circles that inched closer to your core.

He managed to kick off his boxers without letting go of you—which was a talent that was difficult to advertise, but a talent nonetheless—and kissed you deeply. One of his fingers slid over your thighs and traced over your folds, causing your body to twitch in anticipation as you gripped his forearms for support.

His touch felt foreign and familiar at the same time – he knew how to find every single one of your nerve endings, but your body seemed to have forgotten that he knew.

It was almost frightening how he sensed exactly how to touch you to elicit a response—the pillows of his fingers effortlessly reached the bundle of nerves on your clit at just the right time to make your back arch off the bed involuntarily, seeking more friction. Your breathing grew louder every time he applied more pressure to his touch.

It really didn’t feel fair at all—the way he appeared to know your body better than you did, even after all these years.

A frustrated whimper escaped your lips when he added another finger, picking up the pace. He alternated between gentle rubs and teasing caresses, and his touch made your head spin, but you wanted more of him. All of him.

He only inserted a finger for a fraction of a second before lightly brushing it over your folds—the motion so sweet and then suddenly not enough. Your nails were about to draw blood from how tight you were gripping his arms.

“Don’t tease,” you exhaled, more a plea than a command. “Not now.”

There was a hint of promise here, and Jungkook smiled before nodding. He kissed your lips, but instead of pulling away, he increased his pace—toying with your clit with just enough pressure and at just the right angle that you could have cried out if you hadn’t been biting your lip so hard.

“Fuck,” was all you could respond with as your eyes rolled back from the intense sensation. “Jungkook—”

This time his name was encouraging. It was begging. It made him groan as he leaned in, already almost painfully hard as he rubbed your clit, spreading your wetness with his fingers.

“Hmm.” He touched your neck with his lips in a sloppy, wet kiss that sent shivers down your spine. “You look so beautiful.”

“Fuck,” you repeated, the relentless ministrations of his fingers rendering you incapable of a more coherent sentence. “Fuck.”

And just when you felt the pressure in your stomach building, he pulled away abruptly.

The loss of contact made you exhale with enough agitation for it to resemble a whine. This earned you a smirk from him as he pulled back slightly, convinced he was just doing what you’d asked because he did indeed stop teasing.

To be fair, it was for his benefit, too. Your body, your warmth, your heavy breaths—he knew it all teased him more than he could ever tease you.

Struggling to maintain his composure, he bit his lip and reached for his length, giving it a few languid strokes.

The first glimpses of concern started to creep in when he realised he had no protection, but he saw you nod at the pile of suitcases by your bed. Confused initially, he rolled off of you and approached what appeared to be a welcome basket on top of the pile.

“Don’t tell me…” he mumbled in disbelief as he picked up the wicker basket—decorated with an appropriate white bow.

“Yeah,” you confirmed his thoughts and sure enough, among complimentary bottles of shampoo and tubes of toothpaste, he found a box of condoms.

Under different circumstances, he would have embraced his inner teenager and dropped everything to giggle at this, but he tried to stay composed. That is, until he looked at you and saw that you were biting your lip in an obvious attempt to hold back laughter.

“Well, this is quite convenient,” he remarked, encouraged by your amusement, as he climbed back on the bed. “Almost meant to be, no?”

“Don’t spoil the moment,” you warned, pressing your lips together to conceal your smile. “Just hurry.”

“Say that again for me?” he teased. “I love it when you beg.”

Undeterred by the punch on his shoulder that he received in response, Jungkook laughed and ripped the bag open. He unrolled the condom onto his length with relative ease despite the slight shake in his hands.

You reached out to help him, and he realised he might actually pass out when he felt you touch him. The tips of your fingers were on the tip of his length as he brought it closer to your entrance.

He shook his head and warned breathlessly, all of his previous confidence gone, “I’m not—not going to last long.”

He could tell as much even before he entered you, but after you nodded—giving him voiceless permission—and, slowly, almost agonisingly, he slid inside, he realised he may have miscalculated.

He might not last at all.

Lowering his head as he paused, not even halfway in, he bit his lip in concentration and closed his eyes. He couldn’t get himself together when you looked like that under him—almost too lost in the feeling of him, in the pleasant stretch, in the way you couldn’t help but clench around him as your walls anticipated fitting all of him in.

“Fuck,” he exhaled shakily as you tightened around him. He really needed to get a grip. More sternly, he repeated, “fuck,” and, with a more forceful thrust of his hips, he fully bottomed out.

You threw your head back at the sudden motion, needing a second to adjust to the stretch. This was helped greatly by one of his hands as he caressed your hips, your waist, your breasts while he gave you as much time as you needed. Hė toyed with your nipple between his fingers and the gentle touch and the utmost admiration in his dark eyes sent sparks straight to your core.

After you quietly urged him to move, it still took him a whole minute before he felt confident enough to pull almost all the way out and then push back in, testing both of your limits. He looked at you—because he couldn’t not look at you underneath him, not even if it meant he’d lose himself right away—and the expression on your face was so dreamy that he didn’t even realise he shuddered in exhilaration.

Your head was still thrown back as you held your lower lip in a tight grip between your teeth. When you slowly opened your eyes, your gaze met his right away. And there was barely anything—fuck it, there was nothing—that he could have done to prepare for it.

He thought he may as well have died then and there because nothing in his life would ever compare to the colour of your eyes when you looked at him.

Swallowing the groan in the back of his throat, he leaned in to press his lips to yours as he began to move. It was slow at first, then his hips gradually gained more speed as he felt your warm walls pulling him in. Your fingers found their way to his hair, getting tangled in the dark strands as his hips pressed into yours harder—not just faster, but with more force, too, each brush of his length igniting a new fire inside of you.

He made it impossible for you to catch your breath as he kissed you with as much fervour as before, not once slowing down the pace of his hips. Everything he did was in response to you—the way you arched your back, your whimpers in between the messy, open-mouthed kisses, the way you pulled his hair, the way you held onto his shoulders.

He knew that if he lost concentration, he’d unravel immediately. It’s been so long, too long. He’s wasted far too many nights in foreign beds, chasing highs that had always felt forced and artificial. He wasn’t prepared for the real thing. He wasn’t prepared for you.

“Fuck. I’d missed you, my love,” he whispered hazily between kisses, each word accompanied by a thrust of his hips, “so fucking much.”

You felt shivers run down your spine again. If you could have formed a sentence—let alone voiced it—you would have reciprocated.

You would have told him that you missed him too. And you would have told him how much it scared you, the way this feeling was so intense that you seemed to disregard everything else.

But you couldn’t focus.

His length stroked your walls with an exemplary balance of force and tenderness. His tongue was in your mouth, the kiss hot, heavy, messy. His hands were all over your skin, warm, eager, relentless.

He filled your head with stars.

You could not speak, you could not say anything that wasn’t a breathless whisper of his name every time he pulled away to give you both a chance to inhale.

He understood you without words, however. And the response you had to him was about to tip him over the edge. His movements became too fast to be precise, his thrusts grew sloppy, his breathing got heavier, his groans louder.

The knot in your stomach formed much faster than you would have liked. You wanted this to last longer, but all of it felt reckless—dangerous and outrageous—and so good—too good—that you broke the kiss, a strangled cry of his name passing your lips as a warning that you were close.

“Yeah?” he whispered, kissing your jaw as he pressed his thumb on your clit. The rubbing motion matched the speed of his hips and the intensified pleasure caught you so unexpectedly that you could no longer control how loud you were.

Your heavy breaths mixed with curses and broken fragments of his name—he knew these sounds would echo around his mind for every waking moment—as your back arched off the bed and into him.

And when he heard you cry out, when he felt your grip on his arms tighten as your body jerked forwards, your hips meeting his, then lowering again in uncontrollable muscle spasms, when he felt your walls clench around him so much that they nearly stopped his movements, he almost whined, sensing his own high, brought on by the feeling of yours.

There were curses spilling from your lips as you came and you held onto him so tightly that he knew he’d have bruises on his arms tomorrow morning. Already, he couldn’t wait to look at them. He couldn’t wait to do this again.

His hips drove into yours—sloppily, accompanied by loud sounds of skin slapping on skin—until he fell over the edge, groaning loudly as he spilled himself into the condom. His body twitched as he pushed into you—one final stroke of your soft, sensitive walls—then he stilled completely.

His face was inches from yours, and you were the one who reached out to connect your lips, turning his groan into a dangerous whimper. Your kiss burned through him like electricity and, impossibly, seemed to prolong his climax.

He kissed you back like it was the first time, still powerless from his high, still feeling like he was floating, unable to come down, to pull out, to stop kissing you.

Breathless, you whined against his mouth and felt him stir inside of you, sparking a sudden new fire in your stomach before the previous one could fully go out.

He wanted you, needed you still—maybe he’d never stop. But it was the way you responded to him, the way he felt you need him as much as he needed you, that made him growl into the kiss as his hands reached for the parts of you that he'd touched hundreds of times tonight already.

It was almost desperate, the way you were still clinging to one another—like you’d never touched each other before and never would again.

Finally, you pulled away to inhale. And to, hopefully, recover.

“Fuck,” Jungkook whispered, summarising all that you were about to say.

You both chuckled, giddy, excited, almost euphoric.

He rested his forehead against yours and pressed another soft kiss to your lips before slowly pulling out, and stepping back to discard the condom.

In no more than three seconds, he was back on the bed next to you, pulling you to his side and kissing you once more.

It was three seconds then, he decided, that he could survive away from you.

For a good minute after that, the two of you just watched each other, your chests rising and falling as your bodies tried to fathom something that your minds failed to grasp.

Suddenly, you shook your head.

“What?” he asked. His lips were stretched into what felt like a permanent smile.

“Nothing, I just… it would be very difficult to explain where we were if someone noticed us missing,” you said—your words humorous, but the meaning behind them serious.

Even though you smiled as you spoke, Jungkook swallowed and nodded, solemn all of a sudden.

“I know,” he said. “And I don’t care if anyone knows. I only care that we do.”

You ran your tongue over your swollen lips, preparing to say something that he knew he wouldn’t like. But he was paralysed as he watched you. He swore your lips were the colour of his dreams, and he had to clench his jaw so he wouldn’t lean over and kiss you again.

He forced himself to roll onto his back and spoke up before you could, making sure his voice was as nonchalant as possible, given the hurricane inside his chest, “can we—can we not talk about that right now? Can I just stay here instead?”

You looked at him—which was incredibly easy when he wasn’t looking back at you—and forgot, for a moment, that you had to reply.

He looked almost ethereal like this, with his head resting on the pillows next to you, his hair tousled, stray curls sticking to the droplets of sweat on his forehead, his lips pursed slightly as he stared ahead. A part of you wished to take a picture, to hold onto this moment forever. But a different part of you didn’t want anyone else to witness him like this, not even the lens of your phone camera.

He suddenly turned his head to look at you and you blinked, averting your eyes as you remembered that you hadn’t spoken.

“Hmm. Yes,” you said, the word scratchy as it caught in your dry throat. You cleared it and tried again, “okay.”

Jungkook hummed somehow ambiguously and looked away.

“What?” you asked, confused by the look on his face.

“I thought you’d still tell me to leave,” he admitted.

You sighed. “You should. But I want you to stay. I’m fine with doing what I want tonight, however stupid that might turn out to be.”

He ignored the doubt in your voice—he was getting good at that—and looked at you again. He knew you probably couldn’t even begin to imagine the sort of fire your words ignited inside of him, and just how far the sparks travelled on his skin.

“Then I hope you know,” he said, “that I’m fine with only getting ten minutes of sleep tonight.”

Quietly, you replied, “I think I’m fine, too.”

“Yeah?” he asked, briskly turning to his side and propping himself up on his elbow with renewed excitement.

His abrupt jump made you chuckle despite your best attempts to remain serious, and his grin widened as he brought his hand to the side of your face and leaned in to kiss you once more. Then, twice more. Then three more times—in perpetuity, he hoped.

He knew that he was blessed to have experienced a lot of happiness in his life. But nothing came close to the feeling of your lips on his as the two of you played around in your hotel bed in Amsterdam, two nights before his band’s inaugural performance in The Netherlands during their first European tour.

This was a dream, it had to be.

And he was determined to do everything to make sure he never woke up from it.

chapter title credits: sleep token, “like that”

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#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jungkook au #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction #bts au #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts rockstar au #jungkook rockstar au

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sourlove · 25 days

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My Mistake ~ YANDERE TODOROKI SHOTO

TW: KIDNAPPING (REGRETFULLY), DELUSION, BLACKMAIL, IMPLIED MURDER, IMPLIED VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF MAFIA AND GANG ACTIVITIES

A/N: THIS WAS INSPIRED BY A 'REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPT' ORIGINALLY CREATED BY @out-of-jams

"Listen, I know this might seem sudden, but I have to get this off my chest. I think I've fallen in love with you."

Slowly, you turn to face owner of the heterochromatic eyes gazing up at you. From where he was tied up. On a chair. In your basement.

"...come again?"

The man you had just kidnapped, with the intent of holding for ransom, blushed. "I think- no, I know I've fallen in love with you."

You smiled faintly, emphasis on 'faint' because there was nothing you wanted to do more than pass out and wake up from this nightmare. Todoroki Shoto was nothing but a spoiled, rich kid on paper. Sure, his father had significant power but that also meant you could charge much more for his release when you kidnapped him.

Unfortunately, hindsight was a coldhearted bitch. How were you supposed to know that he had his own fucking gang? What 23 year old man had that kind of power?? Why is it that the one time you decide to test your luck to get some extra cash, you kidnap a mafia boss???

"From the moment you tried to use that chloroform on me, I-I felt something," Todoroki rambled, interrupting your thoughts. "I was confused at first at the audacity but once I pretended to faint and you dragged me, very painfully I must say, to your van, I knew it had to be fate. I had read about fate before, but I never imagined that it would be this..." He trailed off and stared at your face in dreamlike wonder. "...beautiful."

You laughed awkwardly, silently noting the possibility of brain damage from when you moved him. "That's great man, but look-"

"It's more than great!" He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming excitedly as the ropes strained against him. "Nothing has ever made me feel this way before: flowers, money, the works, but the moment you tied me up, I knew we were-!"

"Look the whole kidnapping thing was a mistake. okay?" You interrupted abruptly. You ran your hands through your hair in frustration. Who knows how long you had until someone found you?

Todoroki's smile melted of his face. "A...mistake?"

"Yes! Exactly! It was just a wrong place, wrong time kind of situation! And I am sooooo sorry so let's just forget this ever happened and I'll even drop you off wherever you need to go." You finished with a nice 'im-so-sorry-for-kidnapping-you-please-dont-kill-me' smile.

He stared at you blankly for a full minute, making you sweat nervously. There was obviously a screw loose in his head and you really hoped you hadn't provoked him too badly.

"So you mean you never planned to kidnap me?" he asked quietly.

You shook your head. "I didn't. I'm sorry? I think..."

The silence echoed throughout the basement as precious seconds ticked by. Your hands itched to do something, but what? You weren't a murderer and there was no way you wouldn't face some kind of consequence so the only way out was to convince him to let the matter slide.

"Liar."

Todoroki chuckled at your dumbfounded expression. "Do you really I would believe that you kidnapped me, Shoto Todoroki, for a mere ransom?" He smiled adoringly up at you and you felt a chill run down your spine. "You wouldn't do something like this," he nodded down at his binds "For someone you don't love."

You backed away slowly. "Hey, you've got the wrong idea, I-"

"No, no I don't have wrong ideas," Todoroki drawled. "In fact I think I might be very right about this one soon."

"W-what...?" Suddenly, a loud pounding came from your front door above the basement. Loud, angry voices spilled into your home and stomped around, obviously looking for something. Or someone.

Todoroki looked almost apologetic as he smiled. "It looks like you'll have to make your choice now, my love. You just ran out of time."

You swore and hastily began cutting at his rope bindings as he watched in amusement. Fuck it. It was better to hang off the arm of this psycho than get caught by his men as his kidnapper. And he knew it too. You wanted to punch his stupidly pretty smug face.

"I'm so glad you decided to see thing my way, darling," Todoroki sighed, wrapping his arms around you. "And since you wanted me so badly, I'll give you exactly what you desire." He pressed your foreheads together just as the basement door splintered open.

"From now on, I'm never letting you out of my sight~"

READ PART 2 HERE

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mur4sak1 · 2 months

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How would elves behave during an argument?

A/N: Remember that English is not my first language so I hope I wrote in the best way <3

Characters: Rog, Galdor, Glorfindel, Maedhros, Legolas (bonus)

Rog: guys, this elf would be really scary. Contrary to what you might think, he would lose his temper very easily; he works all day in the darkness of the forges and when he leaves he just wants to have a good rest, so further stress from an argument would drive him out of his mind. He's the typical person who screams without thinking twice and says things he doesn't mean in anger. His way would destroy you every time, making you burst into tears from how bad he made you feel... but as soon as he saw a small tear running down your face he fell silent, forgetting everything that was happening; Was it him who made you like this? He was making the only person who loved him and who had always supported him in his darkest moments cry. He would stay still for some time, with a thousand thoughts in his head when a louder sob from you would bring him back to reality. He would apologize to you but he would do it without meeting your gaze, he is suffering too much for what he did and he wouldn't have the courage to see your destroyed expression. But you knew that he loves you more than anything after all. With difficulty you would get up and hug him as tight as possible, telling him that everything was fine, that you knew he didn't think those things and that you loved him... You couldn't see his face, but a tear fell from his eyes.

Galdor: NOW LET'S ALL GIVE A HUG TO THIS WONDERFUL ELF TOGETHER. He would always try to find a solution peacefully, without discussions and the need to argue, but if this happens you should not fear anything from him. He would NEVER scream, he would NEVER raise his voice, he would NEVER say anything mean to you just to hurt you or win the argument. I mean, it would be fantastic. Maybe due to particular circumstances you would have become so upset that you felt angry against the elf, but in any case he would have spoken to you in a calm and reasonable tone, making you understand that you didn't need to react that way. If the pain brought you to tears, he would hug you and console you like a defenseless child, helping you and trying to get you to vent so that he could fully understand what was troubling you so as to avoid misunderstandings. Galdor would have been able to understand and love you more than anyone else, always.

Glorfindel: It was rare to argue with the blond elf, but sometimes it happened and the situation became quite lively. Glorfindel always tried to keep his problems to himself and not involve others because he was convinced that difficult moments should only be faced with those you love. Furthermore, he certainly wanted to avoid all that useless gossip that many elves had on any topic that might attract their curiosity. Although his character was often extroverted and playful even in the saddest situations for this reason, when he argued with you it wasn't uncommon to hear shouts and snorts coming from your rooms. They would not be screams that expressed malice, but screams that asked to be listened to; it was natural for him to raise his voice when he wasn't listened to and in that way he expressed all his frustration and the pain that the discussion with you was bringing him. He always acted for your good and feeling attacked made him suffer, he wondered what he was doing wrong, what more did you want from him. But the intense mix of emotions inside him prevented him from acting rationally, forgetting how to express them and focusing only on everything you said. After a long time arguing like this you would have reached the point of being exhausted and progressively raising your voice would have left you breathless. You would stop to breathe for a fraction of seconds, with the certainty that everything would soon start again. But after rubbing your eyes, you looked at your elf's face and saw in him all the pain that he was trying to say to you through his tone of voice; his fists were clodes, his head was bowed, his forehead shiny with sweat and a few blond hairs stuck to it. In an instant you understood everything... You breathed a heavy sigh and quickly approached him to hug him, starting to beg him to forgive you and sobbing heavily between one apology and another... Caught off guard, after a few seconds he relaxed his arms and reciprocated the hug. Finally he let himself go to his feelings; he rested his head on your head and the wet of sweat combined with the wetness of a few tears. So he was able to express everything he felt and only at that point would you be able to clarify and return to being happy and in love as always "I just want to always be perfect for you".

Maedhros: I'm sure fights with the red-head would be very peaceful. Having grown up in a large family and in the role of an older brother, he had developed a lot of patience thanks to which he could easily handle any type of conflict with you. Contrary to what many might think, after Angbad Mae would not have vented the pain on you with shouts and insults, but quite the opposite. After the terrible torture he suffered, the only thing he wanted was to feel accepted and in you he found his salvation; in all the darkest moments where his mind couldn't differentiate reality from dreams you were there by his side to help him, without ever making him feel wrong and making him understand how strong he was to have overcome such a trauma. For this reason, he would feel like a terrible elf during arguments. He only wanted to offer you the support that you represented to him every day but instead he felt more like a burden to you. This would make him cry a lot, but in silence and alone, because he feared that with every little clash you would abandon him. He just needed time, time to understand that you would never, ever abandon him; you always told him that you loved him more than anyone else and that he needed your support to be able to return to the sweet, confident elf he once was, and you would do anything to help him. Needless to say, every time the arguments were resolved without even face them... there was too much love that bound your hearts to ruin it for superficial reasons.

BONUS. Legolas: So, I honestly see Legolas as the kind of elf who would be capable of walking away during an argument. Perhaps due to stress, lack of patience or lack of desire for confrontation, he could stop the conversation, pick up and leave the place where you were. But in reality his behavior would be the solution to the problem. In fact, the much anger that you had accumulated would have faded with distance and the passage of time and would have made both of you understand how much you cared for each other. Solitude would have helped Legolas to think clearly about the problem and find a possible solution to make them both happy. When you met again you would have made peace, both apologizing for your abrupt ways and organizing something to spend the evening together.

#silmarillion #silmarillion headcanon #silmarillion x reader #tolkien #maedhros #maedhros x reader #glorfindel x reader #glorfindel #galdor x reader #galdor #rog #rog x reader #legolas #legolas x reader #lord of the rings #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #lotr x reader

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 3 months

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ALWAYS

Summary: When Y/N storms out in anger, Dean is afraid he's lost her.

Pairing/Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: None. All flangst. Kissing. Implied smut.

Word Count: 661

A/N: I saw this post and the pic made this little drabble bubble up in my mind, and I had to just go along with it. Hope you enjoy! ❤️

The dividers were created by @saradika-graphics

"Enough!" Dean barked at you. "I know what's gonna keep you safe and that's it, end of discussion. I'm not having this goddamn argument with you anymore!"

Your eyes filled with tears of frustration and you angrily spun on your heel and slammed your way out of the house.

You were gone for a few hours, trying to get your feelings under control and by the time you returned, your anger and frustration had mostly abated, though your annoyance with Dean's unceasing stubbornness still lingered.

As you walked through the door you heard Dean shout from the top of the stairs.

"Y/N!"

He bounded down the stairs so recklessly you worried he was going to break his neck. Though you should have known he was more coordinated than that. When he got to the bottom, he reached you in two strides and yanked you into his arms, squeezing the breath from your lungs.

"Dean. Air." You croaked out.

He pulled back and his face was full of sadness and worry.

"You came back." He said as he cupped your cheeks.

You frowned, perplexed at his reaction. "Uh...yeah, I live here, remember?"

You saw his jaw clench and unclench before he licked his lips and dragged in a deep breath.

"I thought...well, I thought maybe after we fought, you'd be rethinking that decision."

Your frown deepened. "Why would I do that? Because I was pissed at you? Because your stubbornness is one of the most frustrating things I've ever had to deal with? Why ever would that make me run away?"

When Dean's expression became even sadder and more worried, you laid your hand over his on your cheek.

"Dean, I'm teasing. Yes, I was incredibly frustrated and I'm still a little pissed at you. You don't get to call all the shots all the time. I know you want to keep me safe. But you can't wrap me in bubble wrap, lock me up in a tower, and throw away the key."

Dean sighed and dropped his hands from your cheeks. "Might be worth a try." He mumbled.

You shook your head, but couldn't hide a small smile. "Trust me, if you value your nuts, and want to keep them attached to your body - it's really not."

A smirk tipped up the corner of his mouth but fear and sadness still lingered in his eyes. You stepped close to him.

"Baby, did you really think I wouldn't come home just because I was mad at you?"

He shrugged dismissively. "I dunno. You were gone a long time, and you were pretty mad. And..." He looked down at his feet. "N, I made you cry."

You felt tears threatening again as you lifted his chin.

"Dean, I need you to understand this, okay? I mean, really, really understand and believe me. I don't care how angry you make me, or how frustrated I am with you sometimes. I am always coming back to you. Always."

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but you pulled him down to you for a kiss instead. You kissed him slowly, infusing it with all the love you had for him, and maybe just a little of your frustration too.

"Always." You promised again as you pulled away, breathless, but aching for more.

Dean's smile was boyish and shy. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You smiled back lovingly before giving him a mock frown as you shook a finger at him. "But that doesn't mean you can go around pissing me off with impunity."

Dean shook his head solemnly before reaching his hand down to squeeze your ass and push you tight against him, making a soft moan fall from your lips.

"No, ma'am." He answered with a wicked grin. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

You giggled, the fight and frustration dissolving completely beneath want and desire. You grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the bedroom.

"I have some ideas."

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

#dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester fan fic

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hyunjinsbelovedamericano · 9 months

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Fights with skz

a little bit angsty but still fluffy

not proof read once again

Bangchan

i feel like he would be the first to apologize,you would fight over him overworking himself and not taking time to rest he would make some dumb excuses like,"It's my job"or"I'm doing what's right".You would get mad at him for not taking breaks like he should so you confronted him about it and it turned into a whole big fight.He would realise he was the one in the wrong not to long after and apologise and try to take breaks

Lee know

Fights with him would be so complicated,he would be so mad during the fights and probably say things he doesn't mean.If you wanted his attention because he was focusing on his work more,he would get mad and start to call you clingy and say you always want attention etc.You obviously got hurt by this because who wouldn't?Then he would realise he messed up when he's about to go to sleep and apologise

Changbin

You rarely get into fights with Changbin,the chance is extremely low,but when you do there never that heated or serious.There would still be anger though and you would storm off angry,he would feel so bad after and try to shower you in love and kisses,he just wants you to forgive him .You know he won't stop until you forgive him so you just give in and accept his love because you would be a fool not to

Hyunjin

This man would be so petty,you guys would go days without apologising because of the pettiness.You guys would do things like,slam the door,leave the door slightly or wide open,not cook when expected to etc.He would be so sick of this and just wants to go back to a normal relationship,You would find him crying in the bed and automatically feel bad.You guys would forgive each other and go back to a normal relationship(if you don't changbin might steal him jk)

Han

Fights with him would be so sad and tiring,i feel like he would do something unintentionally bad and that would piss you off,he wouldn't realise what he did wrong after the whole fight happened,he would ignore you unintentionally,you would try talk to him another time thinking he was just busy at the time but when you talk he still ignores you.This leads to a fight.But he realises he messed up and asks for your forgiveness

Felix

Fights with this man would be 0.02% likely to happen,i think he likes to avoid fights so if he does something that you don't like he would apologise right away,but when you do get into fights with him there would be alot of tears.When you storm off hw would lock himself in the bathroom and start crying feeling really bad,you can't stay mad at him for long so you apologise before he can because how can you stay mad at him for that long

Seungmin

I think fights with him would be really heated or mild,whenever you get into fights like lee know he would say things he does not mean,maybe he had a bad day and took it out on you.He might call you so annoying or frustrating out of anger and you know that,but it still hurt.So you walk away from the fight and sit in the bedroom.You start to cry in the pillows and seungmin overhears it.He would feel guilty for making you cry and start to comfort you,even if your still mad at him he will not go away

Jeongin

Fights with jeongin would either be simple and you would forgive each other easily or complicated and you would take forever to forgive each other.It's either you both realise it was a misunderstanding and start apologising to each other or you guys take days to forgive each other,it depends the reason your fighting.You would not talk to each other for days and the members would notice and make a plan to get you guys back to normal

Bro i am so sorry for not posting a fanfic in a while,i just had no energy to 😭,but i would love to hear your requests i only do fluff and angst <3

#skz fluff #skz x y/n #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #lee know x reader #felix x reader #stray kids fluff #han x reader #jeongin x reader #seungmin x reader #bangchan x reader #skz angst #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios

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pocketjoong · 8 months

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ATEEZ REACTIONS TO YOUR FRIEND ABANDONING YOU AFTER THEY FIND AN S/O | ot8 x reader

GENRE | reaction, headcanons, angst, fluff

WARNINGS | Kinda sad. Mentions of bad friends. Mentions of friends abandoning you and acting like you don’t exist anymore. Self-indulgent. Lmk if I missed something.

NOTES | Just a little something bc I’m kinda sad and angry lol. These are based on a situation I found myself in recently, and this is how I’m coping ig lol.

Hongjoong

☆ Hongjoong is furious, but he reigns in his anger and instead, focuses on being there for you. That doesn’t mean that he will not express his frustration at your so-called “friend, though. He will definitely tell you what your friend did is wrong and that you deserve to be treated better.

☆ Hongjoong says things you want to hear in such a situation and validates your feelings of hurt, anger, and confusion. But, he also says things that you need to hear, telling you things like, “Don’t let other people’s actions define your self-worth. You are an amazing person, and you should not let someone like that make you feel like you were a bad friend.”

☆ If you want to, he will help you write a diss track so that you can channel your frustration and anger into something that will allow you not to feel sorry for yourself.

☆ By the end of this little collaboration, as you watch Hongjoong's proud smile from where he's seated in front of the studio equipment on the other side of the window, you will definitely feel a teensy bit better.

☆ If he has a personal SNS account (and if your “friend” follows him in said account), he'll post a bunch of pictures of you both enjoying convenience store snacks and of you laughing with a passive-aggressive caption. Something like, “Some friendships are like a bag of chips in the aisle of a convenience store—they're there one moment and gone the next. But our friendship is a timeless classic, always on the shelf, waiting to be enjoyed, and never going out of style.”

Seonghwa

☆ Seonghwa is going to be angry, too, but he prioritises your well-being and emotions above all else.

☆ So, as much as he wants to have a word with your “friend”, he lets it go in favour of hugging you as you cry out the feelings of hurt, anger, and betrayal that have been building inside of you. Seonghwa rocks you back and forth in his arms, gently patting your back and handing you tissues when needed. He even makes sure to have a bottle of water nearby and prompts you to drink some from time to time so you don't get dehydrated.

☆ When you’re done crying, he wraps you in his softest blankets with a mischievous grin and brings out snacks before turning on the TV and watching sappy movies with you.

☆ If you’re not in the mood to watch movies, expect him to bring out a new Lego set for both of you to build together, seizing the opportunity to create a relaxing atmosphere so you’re distracted from your pain.

☆ While the two of you work on building the set, he makes funny sounds with a character he has finished and acts all goofy, especially when you become too silent or daze off. Sometimes, he smiles at you sweetly, gently encouraging you and reminding you that he is there for you, no matter what.

Yunho

☆ When Yunho learns that your friend has basically abandoned you, his protective instincts kick in. He is positively murderous, and he is very vocal about how he feels about your friend acting like a jerk.

☆ “How dare that idiot act like this?!” His words might be coloured with anger, but he really wants you to know that he stands firmly by your side and that he won't tolerate anyone mistreating you.

☆ He will drive you around the city because he knows how much a change of scenery can help and also because you love driving with no particular destination in mind. Yunho plays soothing music at first, slowly changing the mood of the songs until both of you are basically screaming the lyrics to Guerrilla as you drive past the city streets.

☆ If by any chance you happen to cross paths with your friend while you are out with Yunho, he does everything in his power to gently guide you away (ideally, you don't even notice said “friend” as Yunho jokes around, gently guiding you to his car while blocking your view of them).

☆ If he’s alone, though, he definitely confronts your friend. He uses his intimidating presence to subtly tell them that he doesn’t approve of what they did, “If I ever see you near y/n, I'll make sure you never have your kneecaps.” His words hang heavy in the air as he walks away, a stark reminder that he is willing to go to great lengths to protect you from any harm.

Yeosang

☆ Yeosang will be there for you, but silently. He gives you time and space to process your feelings, but he is there as a quiet yet reassuring presence because he won't leave you on your own when you need someone to be there. But he also waits for you to go to him and talk when you are ready.

☆ Though Yeosang doesn't push you to share your feelings, his presence gives you the comfort you need. Him just bring there serves as a reminder that you don’t need to face this painful situation on your own.

☆ His care for you manifests in subtle ways: snack delivery, random funny text messages, or him telling you something ridiculous the other members did. But the most noticeable thing is that he is around a lot more.

☆ He makes sure that you know he’s available for hanging out or just talking. He will mention it in passing that he’s free lately and use his busy schedule in the past few months as an excuse to see you. He arrives at your door, smiling widely, “I was free, and I haven't seen you in a while because of the tour. So, I wanna hang out. Let's get fried chicken?” (And how can you say no when he asks so nicely?)

San

☆ San is also very livid at how your friend treated you and is one of the members to let you know his take on the matter. His first reaction is to confront your friend directly. You will have to stop him from calling the friend or marching up to their house to give them a piece of his mind. You can feel his simmering anger as you tell him to let it be, but he agrees with your wishes (reluctantly).

☆ When it comes to comforting you, he provides you all the emotional support you need, letting you cry in his arms. But he also says cheesy things like, “Why are you crying over someone who doesn't know the difference between a gem and a lump of coal?” His attempt at being funny elicits a weak smile from you, causing him to smile as well.

☆ San is also someone to take you out on a surprise outing to stargaze, especially if he knows that a meteor shower is supposed to take place. As you both are laid out on the blanket, watching the stars, he softly reminds you of your worth. “You know, you shouldn’t waste tears on meteors that pass through your life when you have a bunch of stars in your galaxy.”

Mingi

☆ Mingi is sad when he learns about how your friend had treated you, and he is genuinely concerned despite his awkward attempts to comfort you.

☆ He pats your head or your shoulder as you cry, but at the same time, says something deep like, “I know you have a kind heart and that this situation has hurt you, but some people don’t deserve the love you carry within you.”

☆ Instead of assuming, he directly asks you what you need and how he can help, and he does it with no questions asked. Even if that means he has to pay unreasonable shipping to get you your favourite chocolates as soon as possible.

☆ He also orders takeout so that he knows that you’re eating properly and then puts on an old comedy show he knows you have watched countless times. By the time the sun sets, the weight on your shoulders lifts and you find yourself quoting the show line-for-line with Mingi while laughing into the night.

Wooyoung

☆ Wooyoung goes attack-mode but also protect-mode because he’s not one to let anyone mistreat someone he cares about.

☆ In attack mode, he calls your friend and tells them exactly what he thinks of them. He won't hold back, and says something like, “Don't mess with me. Because I can and will make your life hell, and I'm not scared of people like you who think it’s okay to treat people badly, especially if they have treated you with nothing but kindness.” His words, though playfully exaggerated, are stern enough to deliver the warning to your friend.

☆ Then, because he knows how much you are hurting, he does everything to comfort you. He cooks your favourite meal, knowing the recipe like the back of his hand. While cooking, he cracks jokes, hoping to get you to smile.

☆ With the meal prepared and the table set, Wooyoung opens a bottle of soju, and lets you get tipsy enough to relax. He listens as you say not-so-nice things about your friend, allowing you to vent without judgment. And if you are feeling up to it, he might put on some music and dance goofily, smiling when you laugh and encouraging you to join him.

Jongho

☆ Jongho, like Yeosang, is a silent supporter. He gives you the space you need to process your emotions but also lets you know that he is there. “I’m here whenever you want to talk or if you need anything.”

☆ He will be the pillar when you need him to be. Jongho lets you curl up next to him even though he’s not very fond of skinship and eventually starts humming under his breath, and when he notices you relaxing, sings gentle melodies to lull you to sleep. He smiles to himself when he feels the way you relax against him, forgetting the hurt, even if for a little while.

☆ To alleviate some of the pain and anger that you are feeling, he makes witty jokes and humorous comments to lighten the mood. In a moment of lightheartedness, Jongho might playfully break an apple in two pieces and hold it up for you to see, saying, “Hey, isn't this,” and show you the two pieces of the apple, “that idiot who let go of one of the most amazing friends he could ever get?”

#outlaw/atz reactions #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #cromernet #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez smau #ateez social media au #ateez fake texts #ateez fanfic

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skywlker-sluvtt · 1 year

Note

jealousy angry sex to fluff what do you think I really love a jealous ani like in the clone wars

I adore jealous clone wars Anakin. The whole Padme and Clovis thing was just so 🤤 especially when Anakin beat the shit outta him. Here's a lil headcanon-y piece. I went a lil overboard but...I kinda like it 🫣 I hope you enjoy lovey.

Warnings: degrading, dirty talk, no protection (please be safe), spanking, possessive asf behaviour, and more 18+!!!

Word Count: 1.5k

༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹▫◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ

➮ Anakin is so vocally jealous. He’s a cocky ass hole and he will talk to the person flirting with you in the most condescending way ever and it gets on everyone’s nerves.

➮ He’s just so possessive of you and wishes you just wore a sticker on your shirt saying “Anakin’s my husband go away” so everyone fucks off. He also starts getting annoyed at you if you seem to be entertaining someone's flirtatious behaviour. Anakin’s watching you with some douchebag and he’s thinking “Yeah I bet that dick head can’t make you cum as good as I can” cause his mind goes straight to sex.

➮ It starts with his firm assertive ‘I’m the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy, fear me fucker’ voice. He stands up straight, with crossed arms and a clenched jaw as he storms over to retrieve you. (this part is incredibly sexy because he’s so hot and jealous)

➮ You can just feel the envy radiating off his body and you almost enjoy it. Anakin will make some shitty excuse to take you away making it somewhat obvious you’re his and only his. He’ll firmly grab your arm basically pulling you away from the guy. Anakin shares his partner with no one. If anyone is even talking to you with any kind of suggestive tone Anakin will go for their throat and sometimes it can be a little embarrassing if he makes it seem like you can’t take care of yourself.

➮ “Anakin! That was humiliating I can look out for myself I don’t need you constantly lurking around me asshole” You complain pacing your shared bedroom. “Oh I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of your new boyfriend,” He says sarcastically. “You possessive jealous little boy. Get over yourself” You roll your eyes frustrated with his behaviour, but knowing where it will get you is the real goal here 🤭

➮ “Possessive? I’ll show you possessive” He growls standing up and towering over you. His large muscular frame is just too much to deal with. He grabs your face gripping your jaw to make you look at him. “Do you not value my protection love?” He asks his eyes are dark with lust. “I don’t need you over my shoulder constantly” You huff. “You’re so naive Y/N” He states. You turn your head avoiding his dangerous gaze. “Darling, who do you belong to?” He asks in such a fake-sweet-sounding tone. This is when he decides he’ll just fuck the bratty attitude out of you. “I don’t belong to anyone” You reply. He scoffs before pressing a hard, lewd kiss to your lips.

➮ Knowing what’s coming next you return the kiss threading your fingers through his hair as you both fight for control in the kiss. His tongue dominates yours and he pulls away smirking. “Strip for me, then get on the bed” Anakin whispers lowly in your ear giving your ass a smack and you’re quick to do as he says. As you take your panties off he snatches them from you. “Hey!” You try to grab them back and he smirks. “I think I might keep these in case I have to gag you” He replies swinging them around his finger and making you turn bright red.

➮ He’s the kind of guy to act fake sweet and humiliate you before angry fucking you till you can’t cum anymore.

➮ Slowly, you get on the bed as he takes off his own robes. “Touch yourself” He states still standing at the end of the bed. “What?” You reply shocked by his request. “Touch. Your. Self. Don’t make me repeat myself” He says again as you hesitantly move your hand down to your dripping heat. Biting your lip you slowly begin to circle your swollen cunt and Anakin can’t help but smirk watching the way your eyebrows are drawn together and the breathy moans you let out. “For someone who doesn’t need me you’re soaked princess” He sneers coming even closer to you, his eyes trained on your pussy. “Not for you” You reply. “Really?” Anakin laughs. “Should I leave? Maybe I’ll find someone at a bar who wants me” He sighed getting up. “N-No, no Anakin I-I didn’t mean it,” You whine reaching up to grab his arm and pull him back.

➮ He puts you on your back and cages you between his arms. “That’s what I thought, you're just my needy little slut aren’t you,” He chuckled, the sound of his breathy laughter making you rub your thighs together in pleasure. “I am” You whimper pulling him down for kisses. You yelp as he flips you on your stomach and roughly squeezes your ass while kissing your neck and back. Anakin’s a sloppy messy bitch and decides to lick up your spine and make you squirm first. “Ass up,” He says firmly. You shift positions gently and he gives you a few hard spanks making you moan.

➮ “God you’re so easy,” He tells you grabbing your hips and pushing his hard cock inside of you. “You just love all this attention don’t you, is that why you flirt with these creeps? You’re an attention whore huh?” He asked. You stay silent and he grabs a handful of your hair tugging you upward and keeping your back to his chest. “Answer me” He whispers biting your earlobe. “Yes” Is all you whisper wiggling your hips desperate for him to move. “Please Ani” You continue before he lets you go and starts fucking you at a merciless pace letting out his pent-up anger on your tight pussy.

➮ You’re whining into a pillow moaning at how deep he is inside of you. Anakin’s hands gripping your hips, his cold metal hand probably leaving marks. “You like it when I fuck you, dumb sweetheart, I bet your boyfriend couldn’t make you feel this good” Anakin grins in your ear. “H-He’s not my b-b-boyfriend” You stutter barely being able to speak from pleasure. “I’m the only person that can turn you into such a dumb cock drunk whore” Anakin continues his dirty talk the whole time.

➮Then he reaches down and grabs your throat pulling you back into him. You let out a loud moan at the angle change and he’s holding you up tight against him while he’s fucking you. “Ani” You whimper and he gently squeezed your airway closed. “Good girl taking me so fucking well” He rasped. He lets go of your throat he uses that hand to play with your clit. “Tell me who owns this pretty little cunt baby” His sadistic grin is crazyyy. “You do Anakin! You” “Mhm yeah I do”

➮ “Please l-let me cum Ani I promise I’m yours all yours” You moan before he flips you on your back. Anakin loves the sight of you all messy and sweaty desperate for his dick. “Good girl, you are mine. You don’t need anyone else” He continues fucking back into you causing you to start scratching his back. “I’ll make sure they all fucking know your mine” He groans leaning down to suck the biggest, purple hickeys across your neck to get his point across. “Cum on my cock sweetheart,” He says licking across the marks. “Anakin! Oh, fuck Anakin” You moan coming undone around him quivering in ecstasy. “Mhm, baby I’m gonna cum so deep inside you, get you all p-pregnant with my child. No one will ever touch you if you see you big and fucking swollen with my baby” He growls before finishing deep inside of you.

➮ Afterwards he goes all soft on you. “I love you so much” He whispers so softly making you grin at his sudden change in tone. “You know that?” He asks. “Course I do…I love you too” Laying beside you he smiles and presses the softest kisses to your face. “Y’know I don’t mean any of that right?” He makes sure. “I know, it’s fun” You grin squeezing his bicep. “Let me get you cleaned up pretty girl” He grins.

➮ He’s quickly cleaning you up and getting you a cold glass of water. Eventually, you’re just cuddled up to his chest as he strokes your hair. “I’m sorry for getting so jealous. I just hate seeing other guys talk to you like that. I know you can handle yourself…I just like protecting you” He blushes. “It’s okay, I like how possessive you are Skywalker. It’s cute” “I’m not possessive, I just love you” Anakin whispers kissing your temple making you giggle. He he fully believes with his whole heart he is not possessive, but like bro he so is “Don’t laugh at me” He grins kissing his cheek. “Love you Ani…m’all yours,” You say softly. “I’m all yours too” Anakin replies pecking your lips once more.

#anakin skywalker #anakin #anakin smut #anakin headcanons #anakin fic #anakin x you #anakin x reader #ani wani #tcw anakin #jealous anakin #anakin angst #star wars fic #star wars smut #sw prequels

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elfqueen006 · 2 months

Text

Kiss and Make Up

Sunny Day Jack x Reader

Tw: post argument (after that one Jack audio), toxiiic, manipulation, cunninglingus lemon, dub-conny to enthusiastic

There was a knock on your door. You flinched not experiencing the sudden interruption of your solitude. You were still winding down after your argument with down after your argument with your “best friend”. Admittedly though, this was another blip in a long history of “shut-downs”. You did it with your parents, your boss, and Ian. It’s nothing special, but it doesn’t get any easier to work through.

“Shaun?” You called out tentatively. But of course, who else should answer but Sunny Day Jack? When he opens the door you check his body language - knit-brows, tense shoulders, and a grimace. He’s still upset, but not as much as before. Not angry. Still, you probably weren’t helping with bringing up the man that you both were arguing about. It was a knee-jerk reaction on your part, mixed with hopefulness and a fleeting callousness – not uncommon for your moods. But you knew better. Shaun wasn’t coming back for a while, as he was away for a meeting in L.A. with his agent, Olivia.

One might think being in either position would be a dream of sorts. But all you know is your college buddy is a big time director doing movie things, while you’re left here to stave off the remnants of your frustration in your ghost clown situationship.

You pulled your legs up to your chest as Jack closed the door behind him before approaching you. Thankfully, it didn’t close all the way. That gave you a sliver of relief. You didn’t want to be in a closed space with him right now; not after before.

He sat at the foot of the bed. You scooted up the bed further to where you sat on the pillows, subtly grabbing the edges as if they could hold you, keep you safe, free from this tension.

Finally Jack asked, “Are you okay?”

No. “I’m alright.” you replied.

“You sure? You didn’t come out of your room for a few hours.”

This is what I do when people raise their voices at me. “I just needed some time to myself…”

Jack nodded and gave an understanding smile. You resisted a frown, because for once the gesture made you upset. He didn’t deserve to be concerned when he got you like this. He didn’t deserve to be understanding as if you going through this had nothing to do with him. You smiled back though, you had to. You wanted the worst to be over even if he was acting like it was just a little hurdle. You always got over it before.

The bed creaked, snapping you out of your thoughts as you noticed Jack had gotten closer to you. Like right beside you. Tilting his head, he raises his hand and puts it just inches to your face.

“May I?” He asked. What else can you do but let him? You nodded, letting his gloved hand brush your cheek coming up to your hair before twisting your curls between his thumb and forefinger.

Softly, he spoke your name. You look at him, and the weight in your chest gets heavier when you look at those doe eyes. Big, brown, and wide, and pretty. With his eyes you think he’s saying sorry. You think, but his mouth will say something entirely different.

“You know, I care about you a lot right?” he asked.

You nodded slowly in reply.

“So I expect the same in return. And it’s not your fault, I know you do your best with… Shaun around,” his voice took on a dark tone at the mention of your roommate. “But I just feel so neglected whenever he comes around,”

“He’s coming between us.”

“I don’t mean to make you feel that way. And if I have, I’m really sorry.” you replied, “It’s just hard… balancing you both.”

“I know, Sunshine.”

And he smiled as if to congratulate you on your apology. Truthfully, you didn’t know why you did it anyway. It just felt like the right thing to say; it felt correct. It wasn’t as if he were asking for one, but it’s not like you could take it back now. It felt worse to have him angry and disappointed. And even if it made you upset now, when he smiled at you it was like you could accomplish anything.

“We can fix it, right?”

“Of course. Hey,” He took hold of your chin, “No time like the present, right?”

“...Right.”

You had a bit of an inkling where this was heading when he pressed his lips onto yours. There wasn’t going to be an I’m sorry to placate this. Soft skin moved together rhythmically in a sensual kiss. Jack slipped his tongue inside and against yours, licking your wet muscle, and you found yourself eagerly returning the gesture. When there was an opportunity to taste Jack again, you sure would take it. You wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Jack pulled you up upon his lap and held you by your waist. You began to feel his excitement through his pants, promptly rolling your hips against him to get friction. He pulled away, leaving a line of spit between you.

Though you whined when the kiss was broken, you let him ease you down onto the pillow behind you. Jack chuckled softly, “You have to be patient. Be patient for me. Can you do that?”

Fuck that. The primal part of you didn’t want to wait, it was just focused on chasing that high Jack provided. But as you were about to protest, a haze took over your mind, sedating you, making you pliant to whatever was coming. The ache was still there, but it didn’t burn as strongly.

“Okay,” you breathed out.

Jack ran his thumb over your cheek again before leaning down to kiss it. He kissed up your ear, nibbling on the lobe. The action made you squirm. Jack smirked at your reaction before working his way down to your neck. He suckled on the skin to ensure the hickies would be there come morning. It wouldn’t be enough though. He wanted to mark you all over.

He raised up your hoodie and shirt over your chest. He undid the bra remaining there and tossed it over the bed. A shaky sigh passed through your lips when closed his lips around your nipple. All the while, he worked your other breast with his free hand, kneading the flesh under his palm and fingers.

Jack grazed his teeth over your nipple, humming in satisfaction when you moaned. One of your legs propped on his hip for leverage as you subconsciously rocked your hips up to the air, desperate to feel something – anything. His ego was living for all of it. No matter what he did, he knew he could make you melt under his touch.

He truthfully did feel sorrowful for what he’d said earlier.

“Goddammit Sunshine! You are impossible! I do everything right!” he spat. You hurriedly stepped back with wide eyes but he stalked closer towards you. You had to hear this and really see how he was in turmoil over you. He cared so much for you and still does. He deserved your attention more than anyone right now. But here you were, worrying about whether or not your roommate was faring well in L.A. though he’d updated you over the course of the month too many times for him to count!

When you retreated into your room he was still fuming. But after a while he got worried and had begun to feel like he pushed you too far. It was a spur of the moment reaction after all. Maybe he should have taken the time to evaluate what he could’ve said before lashing out like that. But it was done, and no matter what the after effects had been, he would always make a point to have your best interests in mind.

He pulled his lips off of your breast with a pop and moved down to your pelvis. He took your pants off, pleasantly surprised to find you without panties. Your cheeks burned when he shot you an amused smirk.

“If I didn’t know any better… I’d say you planned for me to eventually find you like this.” Your skin trembled as he rubbed circles on your inner thigh. “It’d be poor form outside the house. Why, you never know who’s looking at your sweet body.”

Your breath hitched when he kissed your mound.

“It’s fine here though. Because it’s all for me.”

The lave of his tongue sent a jolt of pleasure through your body. Skillfully he ate you out, making you arch against his painted face. You gripped the sheets beneath to keep you leveraged while you followed the rhythm of his licks. Jack grabbed you under the thighs and pulled you close to delve his tongue into your entrance.

Your mouth dropped in a silent Oh. How long was that thing anyway?

Jack watched you writhe from below, savoring every pleasured shift in expression. Your eyes and nose scrunched tight, the smallest hints of flushed red skin on your face, and your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. When all of this was for him, he could say with no ego, he was your greatest lover.

You reached out to grab him by his hair, but he was way ahead of you, pulling your lower body up as he stood on his knees continuing to pleasure you. Your upper half still lie on the bed, with you desperately grabbing whatever was beneath to keep you grounded.

“Oh, please!” you cried.

Jack paused in his actions but didn’t move his mouth from your labia. “Please…what?”

“Let me cum!”

You felt the twitch of his lips against your lower ones.

“On one condition… you don’t talk about Shaun the whole month he’s away…”

“...huh?”

Was he still on that? You’d long since forgotten with the way he was ruining you like this. You’d always be concerned for Shaun no matter how far he is… but thinking about it now, it seemed like such a silly thing to get in a dispute over. Shaun was a grown man. And you had to stop relying on his companionship, and focus on the one giving you the best head of your life.

“Yes. Yes, whatever you want!” you huffed.

Your high had ridden down, but Jack’s artful tongue only took a few more strokes to get you to climax. He’d have you all to himself now, with no outside influence or thoughts to get in the way.

----

🎵all of this looove is... Toxic~ all these kisses and hugs is...not shit🎵 anywaaay~ hope y'all enjoyed! It's my first day back from spring break making this. not too shabby if I do say so myself!

#somethings wrong with sunny day jack #sunny day jack #sdj x reader #sunny day jack x mc #sunny day jack x you #sunny day jack x reader #sunny day jack fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #black reader #x black reader #sunny day jack imagine #snaccpop #lemon #angst #yandere #my fics

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celabi · 1 year

Note

Okay but how would scummy scara react when his darling is on the time of the month? Like would he take care of his darling well even if she screams and cries like a sweet boyfriend should or he's more the type "I can make it disappear for the next nine months Bae"? I'm just on those days and I'm in a lot of pain rn </3

-🌙

Scummy Scaramouche and the blood devil! (lol) ☆彡

Hope you feel better :( drink lots of water and rest!! <33

You could be screaming at the top of your lungs— kicking your legs and swinging your arms at him in frustration— and the only thing he will do is take it. He knows you don’t mean it, and it’s just your hormones taking over— so he doesn’t hold it against you at all, in fact, he holds nothing against you, because everything you do is automatically correct in his eyes amen 👍. No matter how many times you actually manage to land a hit on him, he’s not actually going to listen when you tell him to leave, because even if his poor body is begging for a break due to all of your uh, affection— he tells himself that you were obviously in more pain then he was, and how he should just toughen up for once and be a man, a man who could take care of his girlfriend and help her when she so very clearly needs it.

Tbh, he probably already knew what a period was before he met you. Duh, his mother has a girlfriend, and when she comes over, they talk so damn loud that Scaramouche might as well occasionally listen in and maybe learn something new. So he’s got the basics down; she bleeds from the vagina, it’s hurts like a cramp but worse, she will want lots of food and many stomach rubs, don’t make her angry. Yeah, he can do that no problem— so he comes over to your house not even five minutes after you send a text saying you need him. Uh, while yes, he may of misunderstood what you meant by that, that doesn’t mean he’s going to leave his sweet little girlfriend in pain as she rolls around on the floor, covering her stomach while whining for him to help her— so he gets right to it.

He’s quick to crouch down next to you and try to haul you up into his arms— and even though he’s not the strongest man in the world, he has no troubles doing so, before carrying you towards your bedroom and plopping you softly down onto your bed. He’ll fluff up your pillows and tuck you under the covers, a cute little kiss to your forehead before asking what kind of soup you would like— all while he’s flicking through channels on your television until he lands on your favourite show, a means to try and keep you occupied, and distract you from your aching cramps. Even though he cannot cook for shit, it’s be more meaningful to received a home cooked meal rather then some fast food take out, and soup really can’t be all that hard to make, right? I don’t know, he knows his mother has a hard time with it.

I think he enjoys rubbing your stomach more then you do. The feeling of his hands running all over your body, kneading at your warm and smooth skin— as well as the satisfied sounds you hum when he rubs over that one spot… he just can’t stop the way his chest races in excitement. It’s such a small little act of kindness, but he can’t help but feel accomplished by making you feel a little better then you did. He likes having you lay on his chest as he rubs circles onto your back, and stuffing his face into your hair while also trying to smooth you with sweet nothings. “You’re doing so good, baby, it’ll all be over soon.” (No it won’t, there’s 4 more days left but he doesn’t know that) “does it still hurt? Would you like me to run you a bath… i-I can join you, If you’d like.” (Pls say yes pls say yes pls say yes) “you won’t feel anything is you sleep.. so close your eyes, rest.” (You’re trying to, but he’s shuffling around and trying to constantly look at your face) (he thinks you look cute sleepy and wants to see) 😔

He hates seeing you in so much pain, so much so that he looked up on the internet if there was any methods out there that could permanently stop periods from visiting every month. The only thing that came up was pregnancy, and that was only for nine months… yeah, he blushed red from that and couldn’t stop the thoughts from running wild in his head. He wonders if maybe you were desperate enough to… no, he really shouldn’t be thinking like that. He’s young and broke, and babies are hard work… but, he thinks you would look so heavenly with a cute little baby bump… he also heard that being pregnant can make your breasts bigger….

“Uh, my love? If you’re really in so much pain, I have a solution… if you’re up for it.”

Scaramouche is a “what’s a warriors sword if not bloody” kind of man, you cannot change my mind 🤒 sorry

#🌙 anon #🍃 — drabbles ☆彡 #scummy scara :(#genshin impact x reader #Scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche #x reader #x female reader #genshin impact

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riririnnnn · 3 months

Text

As I mentioned in my post earlier:

His cuff (that thing around his neck) is near transparent which gives us a lot of room to ponder since we don't exactly know what this chain even represent.

Taking Hiori as an example, let's suppose the chain represents the burden that holds back someone's true ego.

His cuff being transparent gives us two things:

1. It might be plastic which doesn't really make any sense if I were to be honest.

2. It is glass which makes a lot of sense because how's glass? Hell yeah, my geniuses, glass is really fragile which completely fits into what he said:

Further, in that volume cover, he has pulled down his collar which puts a lot of spotlight into his blue rose tattoo, and we all know what that tattoo symbolises for Kaiser.

In case you don't remember: Kaiser got this tattoo as a reminder to himself to never fall back into his weak mentality because Blue Rose symbolises the achievement of impossible, and he saw it as an example to turn impossible to reality since Blue Rose, itself, is artificial and defies the natural order.

What is said above can be found with a quick Google search:

But what grabbed my most attention is this panel:

WHY?

If he only wanted to push the soccer industry to despair, then why he is adamant about winning the Champions league and the World Cup?????

Also, contrary to popular beliefs, I don't actually think Kaiser has a superiority complex because, look:

What Chris said could be considered as an exaggerated way to rile someone, but isn't this, indirectly, exactly what Kaiser says after the Manshine City match ended?

Kaiser said something along the lines of, "BM's main character is Noa and it's impossible for me to be the current number one, that's why I came to NEL to use Isagi as a way to increase my value." He even went as far as to say that he is a secondary character in BM because BM is Noa's team.

I don't think so that anyone with superior complex will admit such real facts.

Further, why did he got so angry when Chris said those things? Isn't someone bound to be angrier if the other one was to point out their obvious weak point? So, does this mean, Kaiser actually got an inferior complex?

I'm not a psychologist, so I'm not dwelling too much into it.

However, there is another thing I want to point out:

So, because of that spreadsheet/official art of a very damaged soccer ball beside Kaiser's foot, the Fandom widely believes that Kaiser was poor while growing up .

BUT!

Being poor as a backstory has already been used three times: Naruhaya Asahi, Noel Noa, and Lorenzo Don.

I understand that in any sector with a lot of money and/or fame, there are many people who come from a poor economic background, but this is fiction, baby. No author wants anything be repeated to the point it feels overused.

That's why, I highly believe that Kaiser was either bullied or mistreated by his seniors when he started playing soccer which explains that he practiced fucking hard that the soccer ball was damaged, and also his supposed hatred towards the soccer industry. It also explains his long, unkempt hair because he was too indulged in practice.

OR!

It goes a bit darker, so proceed with caution:

Soccer somehow destroyed his family's peace just like the brotherhood of Itoshi brothers.

I may write about others in another post, but in this post, I would like to think that the person who destroyed his family's peace was his own father. It could be that his father was a soccer player himself and due to some circumstances, he fell off the soccer industry which took a toll on his mental health, and he started physically abusing either Kaiser, his mom or both.

Why physical abuse? Because Kaiser is shown having an affinity to choking.

If we get our minds out of the gutter, then there have been instances when he choked himself because he was frustrated. Also, didn't he say that he stroked his rose tattoo as a good luck before matches and compared it to, "as if tightening a noose," or something.

That's why, I kinda think that, AT LEAST, someone has choked Kaiser as abuse/bullying.

I'll rant about the above thing in another post tomorrow or some time later because I don't want this post to be too long, and also because I'm hungry af.

I remember a vivid dream when Kaiser threatened me to join BM.

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock theory #bllk theory #michael kaiser #雪 ranting

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toruro · 1 year

Note

Hi I was wondering if you could do a Maknae line - having a argument and making up after a fight ? Thank you 🤍 love your work

maknae line + fighting with them

a/n: of course! i’m so glad you’re liking my work! this was a fun write, but writing for vernon for this scenario was sooo difficult for me lmfoa?!?! anyways pt.2 of them making up can be found here and hyung line's version is right here! c: please leave likes/comments/reblogs if you enjoyed!

w/c: 2.1k

seokmin

in large arguments like this, he’s just as much of a mess as you are. you’re both emotional, and while some might think that large arguments like this are impossible between you just because of how soft-spoken he is, they’re so, so wrong. the fact that you’re both so emotionally driven heightens arguments like this, even though they may be rare. you’d both be crying for sure, yet neither of you relent because you want this issue to resolved and you’re both too stuck up in how you’re feeling individually to think about compromises and solutions. it’ll just go back and forth for literally ages until one of you just can’t find it in you to even cry or yell back anymore. once you've both reached your breaking points, it'll be pin-drop silence. neither of you would be saying a word, the only noises coming from the shaky inhales and exhales. eventually seokmin would get up and grab himself a glass of water, retreating to your bedroom afterwards. you use these moments to think about your next actions, but with your mind all foggy like this, all you really want to do is sleep. you debate for a few moments if you should choose to sleep in the guest room or follow seokmin and sleep with him. your head is telling you that maybe you need space but your heart is telling you that you can't bear to be this distant from him in a time like this, and quickly follow in his footsteps, crawling into your spot on the bed next to him without a word. seokmin doesn't speak either, but the way that he shuffles just a little closer to you under the covers sends you the message that things will be okay.

mingyu

i can see him getting *really* worked up by arguments just because he tends to get blinded by his own emotions. when you guys are in an especially big argument, he’d definitely forget completely about what you guys are even fighting over and will try to nitpick at your words because he just lets everything get to your head. oh you want him to change some of his behaviors? that must mean you hate him. and let me tell you this man is SO stubborn that once his mind is set on one idea, as long as he’s angry and heated like this, he will NOT relent at all (thinking abt that one time jeonghan talked abt an argument he had with mingyu where they were yelling so much that jeonghan lost his voice but mingyu kept going help). he’ll be so stuck in his head and it all just builds up and you’d be getting sososo frustrated it would literally bring tears to your eyes and with everything that he’s saying and everything that you’re thinking, nothing is making sense because there’s just so much going on. at some point you feel like you can’t even comprehend the words coming out of his mouth so you cut him off, saying, “mingyu i can’t do this anymore,” and that’ll make him stop dead. you’d realize he thinks you’re talking your relationship in general, and while the silence is thick, you clarify, “this argument. i can’t think right now,” you murmur. you realize that mingyu’s breath is labored and that this entire fight has really taken a toll on you both, and he takes a moment to respond. “okay,” is all he says, and he doesn’t move when you go to the bedroom to grab a pillow and blanket because he only thinks you’re going to get into bed. when you walk out and place the two on the couch, he catches on, quickly catching your wrist before you can lay down. “what are you doing,” he’d ask. “going to sleep?” you shoot back. “okay well sleep on the bed.” you’d shake your head. “i want to clear my mind.” mingyu tugs at your wrist, “okay well do that on the bed.” like i said, mingyu is STUBBORN he definitely won’t relent until you finally agree to sleep on the bed with him, even if you two aren’t pressed up against each other like usual.

minghao

i said this earlier but the yelling-in-each-other’s-faces kind of arguments don’t happen with minghao. with the others, those kind of arguments may be rare but with minghao they are quite literally nonexistent. that doesn’t mean you two don’t argue or have issues, but having them emotionally escalate to that level with either of you can’t even think is just not something minghao or you will let happen. the worst of your arguments are still quite tolling though: you and minghao would start talking faster and maybe not all of your words are thought through but whenever either of you realizes what’s going on, you’d take it as your chance to just stay quiet for a few moments, collecting your thoughts. tonight, you’re both frustrated and emotional and you know that this isn’t the best time to have this kind of conversation. eventually, minghao will say what you’re both thinking: “i don’t think we should talk about this right now.” you agree with him, you know you do, but you’re so upset and desperate to fix this issue and for once you speak without thinking, “then when will we?” and the words come out harsher than you’d like. minghao gives you That Look and you’d falter. “in the morning,” he tells you, “we should sleep now.” he can tell you’re hesitant so he walks across the room to where you’re standing to hold your hand and gently pull you to the bedroom. he understands that you’re still tentative and doesn’t push you to do anything you don’t want, but is still insistent on the fact that he wants the two of you to at least still sleep in the same bed.

seungkwan

petty as fuck. kind of like mingyu in the sense that he would definitely nitpick at your words and make the argument far more stretched out than it should be. you love him and all off his dramatics but in some situations it’s just too much, and this happens to be one of those rare occasions. you’re just trying to get your point across and you get the feeling he isn’t really listening to you—it's infuriating to say the least. you're both upset and frustrated and seungkwan is too angry, too caught up in the moment to catch on. it's when your tears stop steadily falling and you end up bawling into your hands that seungkwan seems to sober up. you're crying out so loud and so hard hat neither you can think, seungkwan standing still on the opposite side of the room while you just bury your head in your hands, trying your best to take in deep breaths and ease yourself. seungkwan is, least to say, astounded with himself. he's still upset, still angry, but the only thought at the forefront of his mind is the fact that you're literally sobbing your eyes out and it's his fault. he's not sure how it came to this point, since the moments before you crying were pretty much just a raging blur for him. now is seungkwan's time to step back and reflect on anything and everything he's said in the past few minutes, eventually making the decision to walk over to you and place a hand on your shoulder, hoping it'll help ground you, help calm you down. and much to his tentative relief, it works, and you're able to start muttering words about how you're too tired to talk about this anymore, sinking into seungkwan's arm further. he feels his soul nearly crush at the sight, pushing any anger towards this situation to the back of his mind before he's pulling you along with him to the bedroom. "sleep," he'd instruct, opening the covers for you, and when you look at him with puffy cheeks and glossy eyes, he sighs heavily, "we'll fix things in the morning, i promise." as you both slip under the covers, you drift off to sleep with the welcoming thought that you know seungkwan always lives up to his promises.

vernon

vernon in a serious argument is reserved. it almost pisses you off how he's just...taking everything in. you'd be talking endlessly about your feelings and trying to discuss the issue and he wouldn't even look at you, having his eyes trained on the ground intently. after what feels like ages of you just pretty much talking to yourself, you sigh in defeat, crossing your arms over each other as you blink furiously, trying not to cry. "can you at least pretend you care?" you spit out without thinking, and you regret it for a moment but then you don't, not if it has vernon looking up at you, seemingly more reactive to your words right now than in the past ten minutes. "i—i'm sorry, i'm—i'm thinking," he'd stutter a bit before looking you in the eyes properly, "i care, you know i do, i just—this is a lot." you want to cry even more now, not because you think he's lying but because you know he's telling the truth—it's glaringly obvious to you now that this issue is, in fact, quite a lot and you know vernon likes to take things slowly. you're honestly a little desperate to get this whole situation resolved right now, but you're tired and vernon is tired and you don't know how you're going to make it work. vernon notices this doubt on your face, stepping forward to take your hand. "i'm so sorry," he'd murmur again when you struggle to meet his eyes, "i just—it's late, and i'm trying to think about everything and it's not making sense right now and i think we need to talk about this later." you want to frown and protest, say that no! we need to talk about this now! but you know vernon's right and that if you keep this up you'll keep going in circles. you'd let out a short hum of approval before letting vernon pull you by the hand to the bedroom. he notices your hesitation to get into bed next to him, but he gives you a look which is filled with so much sincerity that any thoughts you have of sleeping on the couch are withering away.

chan

he’d be very mature about most arguments, but that doesn’t mean he’s the best at controlling his emotions when things get abnormally out of hand. you aren’t sure when this argument escalated from just going back and forth to pretty much yelling at each other from across the room but it happens and you’re not thinking straight—not seeing straight, definitely not through the tears in your eyes. chan would be glossy eyed too, and this whole situation is less about you two being stubborn and more about you both trying to communicate your emotions in it’s full capacity. normally that would be good—you and chan are heavy on being honest about your emotions but when both of you are thinking and feeling so many things, it’s hard to comprehend, let along discuss how you’re feeling. it’s after you go on a long, long tangent about something when chan doesn’t reply, kind of just staring at the floor with a clouded expression. he’d be trying to formulate a response but his brain would be fried and all he can think about his how he painfully wants this issue to be resolved, but fights back the thought that you guys can’t do that right now—not when you’re both so foggy minded. “i’m sorry,” you’d finally whisper, looking down at the ground as well, not finding it in you face chan. “i don’t think we can talk about this right now,” chan says in response with a heavy sigh. “let’s just—“ he takes a shaky breath to run a hand down his face to wipe away some stray tears, “—let’s talk about this in the morning.” you’d follow him to the bedroom and the thought of sleeping in the living room crosses your mind, but when you see chan crash down into the mattress, obviously exhausted, you just *know* your heart won’t let you do that. instead, you crawl into the bed next to him, and while you have a feeling a bit of distance would be good, you can’t help but curl up by chan’s side tentatively, sinking further into the sheets when he grips you closer without a word.

#maknae line x reader #vernon x reader #lee chan x reader #dino x reader #mingyu x reader #seokmin x reader #dk x reader #dokyeom x reader #minghao x reader #xu minghao x reader #the8 x reader #seungkwan x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt reactions #seventeen x reader #answered #✰ anon #💌 drabbles

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