U may have one...... first draft wip + background for the day.......and now, i fade into a mist
Day 240, back to Marie's expression sheet! We're on the inking stages instead of the sketching stages (although I could technically do tie-down sketches, especially for the pilot suit expressions, but nah). Happy got re-done since I wasn't too fond of the first go with it, and I'm super pleased with Pleased :D Really like using a thicker line brush for her, it helps add weight and volume to her hair that I'm really happy with :D
HI Andi’s younger sister (Eirlys!!) is cute ty goodnight
I love that we are all on the same page that Wonderlands came and saved the franchise from BL3s terrible horrible very very very Bad writting and decision making with its fun story and drastically improved QoL changes and overall thematic of the game and endgame content and multiclass system and consecuently the build diversity.
I guess it really shows that randy truly learned from his awful decision making for BL3 and listened to the community and maybe it might be true what he said about always wanting to make a fantasy RPG because you can see the love the team put into this game.
We cant deny that gearbox literally beat Anthony Burch's story to the ground and spat on it then took the hugest dump on its face and said yep thats a game and that randy did some shady casting choices that backfired severely (the VAs did a great job though) along with trying to put so much stuff together that simply did not make the game feel too fun to play through and thus eventually making so many changes to the game that made the community question wether the game was actually ready to play at launch.
BUT we can also not deny that the team showed their growth through the years delivering very fun stories and showing the respect that they owed to BL2 during each DLC release and eventually releasing a game that feels very beautifully executed with many of the communities wildest dreams made come true.
I honestly dont know if gearbox as ANY intention to continue the franchise with a Borderlands 4 after the Mess of a story they left in the main game. But I can agree with the community players that say the story is still very salvageable and they can still retake the course of the story left by Burch before leaving the team to pursue a different dream. And after playing Wonderlands i can now say that i believe the team is ready to follow their instinct and go hogwild on the story if they ever decide to develop a fourth release, of course it wouldnt hurt to have some consultation with Burch every now and then.
Hello! I love your work, could I ask you a request about Jungkook strong/intimidating aura but soft towards the reader who is shy, inexperienced and shy?🥺it turns him on but at the same time he feel protective towards her innocence. I would love to read a smut interactions between this two 🥺✨
Pairings: Jeongguk + Reader
Word Count: 4.1k+ words
Warnings: shy virgin oc gets it with her buff! soft dom! short haired! tattooed & pierced! boyfriend! koo, oc and jk are cat people in this universe, typical overprotective boyfriend, size kink, he also spits on your pu$y, protected sex, pwp
Note: not beta'd. im in a rush lol sorry.
Requests are always open.
This was not how Jeongguk planned to spend his day off. What’s a buff, 5’10 guy, all inked and pierced doing in the middle of the baby aisle? Looking like a dilf? It felt as if he was entering every circle of hell of his own accord every time his brother, Seokjin, asks him to run for a diaper supply.
He adores his nephew, that’s a fact, which is why he spoils him so much whenever he comes by. What he doesn’t like is his brother bulldozing through his already set plans for the day.
The day is bright and the weather is clear, but Jeongguk complaining to his brother over the phone is making it seem like it’s gloomy.
“Hyung, I don’t fucking get this shit,” his brows furrowed as he studies the packaging intently. “How am I supposed to know what to get?”
“The size is on the left…I think?” Seokjin nervously gulps, hoping his memory serves him correctly.
“There’s nothing here,” Jeongguk sighs as he returns the diaper back on the shelf.
It was now Seokjin’s brows turn to knit, “Wait, what were you holding?”
He squints his eyes at the item he just returned, “Uhh it’s Pampers?”
“Ah, we usually buy Huggies for Iseul,” Seokjin shrinks in his seat as soon as he hears his younger brother inhale sharply. “Sorry I forgot…again.”
“You could’ve told me that earlier!” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jeongguk threw his head back in frustration. “Okay, Huggies. What size?”
“Size 4!” His elder brother’s enthusiasm made him pull his phone away from his ear. “While you’re at it, can you get me Frosted Flakes, too?”
“I don’t get paid enough for this shit. Goodbye,” he quickly ended the call, randomly throwing three packs of diapers in his cart, not even looking at it anymore.
Jeongguk turns his cart with little to no effort while whistling to ease his boredom as he makes his way to the next aisle. If his assumptions are correct, mostly based on his grocery shopping observations, this particular store doesn’t carry frosted flakes. But then again, it doesn’t hurt to try.
“Frosted flakes…Frosted flakes…” Jeongguk mumbles as he scans every row for the cereal. When there was no sight of the blue box, he frowned.
Jeongguk: There are no frosted fucking flakes [2:00 PM]
Seokjin Hyung: am sad ;-( [2:00 PM]
Jeongguk: You type like an idiot [2:00 PM]
Just as he was about to push his cart out of the breakfast aisle, a soft voice stopped him from doing so, “Excuse me? Can you help me reach the Lucky Charms?”
Looking over at his shoulder, he lifts a brow, “And why would I do that? Do I look like I work here?”
Your lips parted as you scanned him from head to toe. Somehow, you felt embarrassed that he assumed he was an employee when he’s wearing literally every black clothing there is to exist. A nice fit on his body, though, if you may add.
“No, but I–uhm–you’re…taller than me,” feeling extra small and intimidated by his cold aura, you didn’t meet his gaze anymore. Instead, your eyes stayed glued to your feet, “Actually, it’s fine. I’ll just call the–”
He didn’t even give you enough time to finish your sentence.
The next thing you know, his big body was blocking your vision as he reached for the cereal on the top shelf with ease. Jeongguk didn’t even need to tip his toes like you normally would and that was weirdly amusing for you.
“Here,” he hands you your box of cereal.
“Oh,” it took you a while to process what just happened so you blinked. Multiple times.
When your eyes slowly grew wide and your smile reached up to your eyes, Jeongguk could’ve sworn that love at first sight wasn’t an urban legend anymore. Like, who even bows at a full ninety degrees just for a mere cereal box? Definitely not him.
“Thank you so so much!” You waved the box to a dumbfounded Jeongguk who only nodded his head as you pushed your cart away.
He just watched you walk away happily, maybe even trying to remember whatever tune you were humming as you walked away.
Without breaking his gaze from where you once were, Jeongguk pulls his phone out and presses on his brother’s number like it was muscle memory, “Hyung, do you need anything this week?”
“It’s all good, today was just a mishap,” Seokjin reassures.
“Okay, how about next week? I can–uhh–run to the groceries or some shit,” he nervously asks, hoping his brother would never catch anything suspicious.
“I think we’re all good for now,” his brother says with conviction, but only because he doesn’t want to bother his younger brother for errands next time.
“You sure?” Jeongguk pushes.
“Yes, Jeongguk. I’m very sure,” Seokjin sighed. “...Are you flirting with the cashier again?”
“Fuck off, just wanted to help you while I buy cat food for Sage,” the tip of Jeongguk’s ears has now turned to red as he blatantly lied.
His elder brother snorted on the other line, knowing how much of a terrible liar his brother is, “Yeah right, you and your cat.”
“You’re full of shit,” Jeongguk once again ended the call before Seokjin could retort anything again.
Maybe grocery shopping might be one of his new hobbies.
“Cooper?” You sniffed as you walked outside your building, softly calling out for your lost cat.
It’s been 3 hours and you’re literally freezing outside, not giving up until you find your beloved pet. This isn’t the first time Cooper, your escape artist of a house pet, went out of your unit. The first time he got out, you found him at a nearby construction site because apparently, he thinks it’s a giant litter box for him to enjoy. The second was when he, for some weird reason, found himself stuck on the roof of your complex. How he got there, you wouldn’t ever know.
“Hey, Y/N! Oh– you’re crying,” your ever so cheerful neighbor, Jimin, stops in his tracks when he sees the tears pooling in your eyes. “Did Cooper get out again?”
You slowly nodded, lips quivering from trying to stop yourself from breaking down. Every time your cat goes for his so-called walk, you end up in tears. And every time he does, it’s always Jimin who always finds him and brings him back to your unit.
“Say, if I do find him again – which I’m positive I will – I’ll be right by your door, alright?” He assures you with a smile. For some reason, everyone calls him the pet whisperer for always babysitting the neighbors’ pets, so all you can do is trust his words on that.
“T-thank you,” you mumbled under your breath with sadness.
Jimin felt so bad looking at your state. Not when he’s so used to seeing you all full of spirit, “Why don’t you go up and make yourself something warm while waiting for him, hmm?”
And that you did. Only because the only choice you had was to patiently wait for your cat’s return.
Dragging your feet as you climbed the stairs, you were sure the rest of your neighbors could hear the lazy thud of your feet against the floor.
With a head hung low and a slump on your shoulders, you tiredly sighed, wanting to reach your door so you could finally cry your worries out. A pair of feet waiting outside your unit is what made you raise your head.
Leaning by your door is none other than your cereal hero from the other day, Jeongguk, who looks even scarier now than you last saw him.
“God, fucking finally, you’re here,” the crease in his forehead quickly goes away when you can no longer hold back your tears. You covered your face from embarrassment and sobbed silently against your palms.
‘Should’ve bit my tongue there,' he thought.
“I’m sorry,” he says with full remorse. “I can come back later when you’re feeling better.”
You slowly removed your hands from your face, wiping your tears with the back of your hands, “It’s…okay. I’m just having a bad day right now.” Hiccuping in between words and sobs, you still tried to form coherent sentences, “I–I couldn’t find my cat.”
“Cooper with the 9A tag?” Your brows rose at the mention of your pet AND your unit number. The look on your face says it all, “Yeah, I figured.”
“You–you found him!” Not gonna lie, there was a sense of relief that finally washed over you. At least Jimin doesn’t have to scour the chilly weather today.
Jeongguk scratched the back of his ear, clearing his throat nervously, “He–uhm–I–Why don’t you go inside for a while?”
Seeing his behavior as suspicious, you narrowed your eyes at him, “No. I wanna see Cooper now.”
“Sorry, sweetheart, but you can’t,” he says sternly.
‘Your devil’s spawn Cooper is fucking my Sage in the fire exit.’
“Why not? He’s my cat,” you retort.
Jeongguk’s brows knit together once again, slowly losing his temper over a mere house pet, “Are you rude or what? You just can’t see him right now. It’s not that hard to understand.”
You were so appalled with how he wasn’t making any sense right now. All you wanted was to have your cat home and snuggle with him after crying about him the whole day, “How is taking my own cat home rude? Do you have any common sense?”
“Do you have any common sense?” He mimicked the words with a mocking tone and a sarcastic chuckle. “I actually do. But do you have one? Because I’m sure as hell you wouldn’t like it if someone walks in on you mid fuck!”
Just as you were about to retort, he cuts you off, “Tell me your cat is spayed or I’ll go ape shit right now.” When you finally understood what he has been trying to tell you, your eyes widened. And when he finally got the hint your expression was giving, he rolled his eyes, “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”
At this, you immediately shut up. There is nothing you want more in this world right now but to sink into the floor. Horrified would be such an understatement to describe the look on your face.
‘Oh, fuck. Did I offend her?’ Jeongguk mentally slaps his head.
He sighs, “Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
You slowly nodded your head, “Uhm, it’s okay…I guess.”
And then awkward silence filled the space between the two of you.
You were shuffling side to side while looking down at your feet. On the other hand, Jeongguk looked around, arms crossed and still leaning against the wall, still thinking of ways he can strike another proper conversation with you without sounding forced.
Not bearing the unnecessary tension anymore, he chose to break the silence, “So, we need to talk about our setup.”
“I’m sorry but what setup?” You didn’t know what you were getting into and you’re more than confused at this point.
“For child support.” Jeongguk massaged the bridge of his nose with eyes closed, obviously regretting that it had to be him to bear you this news, “Clearly your cat is a fuckboy.”
You blinked, “...Oh, You mean kittens!”
“Whatever floats your boat, but I demand child support,” he shrugged.
“Uhm, okay.” Squinting your eyes in confusion with your head slightly tilted to the side, you asked, “And we need to settle that once and for all, right?”
He nodded, “Right.”
Not sure where to start with your part of the deal, you suggested your idea meekly, “I–uhh–can send cat food every month for the kittens?”
Jeongguk looked up, thought about the idea at first, then nodded with approval, “Fair enough. Sounds good to me.”
You sighed with relief when he took it into consideration.
Feeling as though the help you’re extending wasn’t enough ‘child support’ yet, you timidly peeked at him through your lashes and honestly admitted what you’ve been thinking about, “Sorry, that’s all I could think of right now. I don’t know how else I could compensate for my cat’s–err–behavior.”
He didn’t say anything. Yet. He just looked at you which made you jolt in the discomfort of being under someone’s watch.
“We could go out and eat or some shit?” Jeongguk’s ears slowly turned red.
‘Jeongguk, you airhead. You can’t ask her out like this!’ When your lips, yet again, parted, he wanted to take back what he said until you beat him to it.
“There’s a nice cafe down the street,” when you gave him a soft smile, that’s when he finally returned one, too.
Jeongguk in disbelief was such a rare sight to see, ‘Fucking sorcery.’
“I’m Y/N, by the way. Cooper from 9A’s mom,” you extend your hand politely while pointing at your unit number that’s on your door.
“Jeongguk from 9B, Sage’s peasant,” As he takes your hand, he notes how his are bigger compared to yours.
A lot can happen in a year and the next thing you know, the so-called “child support'' turned to cat co-parenting, then turned to moving into the same unit.
Who would’ve thought that the intimidating, seemingly offish Jeongguk is actually a sweetheart? Definitely not you.
If you asked Jeongguk to list down ten things he likes about you, he’ll give you fifty. If you asked him anything under the sun, he surely knows all the answers to it because he’s that smart. If you make your eyes round enough like that of a doe, he would literally do anything you ask of him – which says a lot because Jeon Jeongguk hates a lot of things but never you.
One of the many things he liked doing is watching you reach over cupboards with a sly smirk grazing on his face. A cocky smirk that he could proudly wear because stools aren't shit when you’re naturally born tall. He watches you struggle, and when he’s had enough worry to rile him to step in, wraps an arm protectively around your waist and reaches over with ease. Oh, how he adored stepping in whenever you struggled. It makes him feel needed.
On the contrary, his self-control and patience are put to the test whenever he stops himself from shoving his cock balls deep inside your cunt whenever you would grind on him just to get off. At least you graduated him from thigh riding, right? The sexy lingerie you’d occasionally wear isn't of much help either.
God, his temper is awful whenever he’s edged but he always tries.
The farthest Jeongguk has gone with you is to eat you out and finger you with, much to his surprise, three digits. The farthest you’ve done with him is a basic handjob and a hesitant blowjob because you didn’t know if you were doing it correctly or not.
You appreciate how he would never force you to do something you’re not yet ready to do. Knowing how losing your virginity (even at a big age) is overwhelming, he’d rather take all his time warming you up than making you feel bad just to satisfy himself.
One of the few stimulating positions you enjoyed doing with your boyfriend is assaulting your wet pussy while laying on his buff chest, preferably in front of a mirror because Jeongguk loves watching your facial expressions as you reach your high – just like now with your discarded lingerie sprawled across the floor.
“Wanna see you insert another finger in there, princess,” he whispers against your ear in a husky voice, not breaking his eye contact off of you through the mirror in front of your shared bed.
You squirm against his sweaty skin when the added digit hits a new sense of pleasure, “A-ah! Can you please do it for me?” Jeongguk could’ve sworn his cock twitched when you begged with puppy eyes but he shakes his head, making you whimper like a brat. “Your…your fingers feel better…than mine,” you utter breathlessly with a pout.
He chuckles, still not budging to take over or say anything.
Knowing how much your boyfriend loves to hear your pleas just so you can cum, your other hand reaches over to his cock, stroking it at the perfect tempo just the way you know he likes it. Under your touch, he hissed at the sudden sensation.
“Koo?” You say almost in a whisper, still stroking his shaft, “I…I want you inside me.”
“Baby,” he warns under his breath.
“I want…I want it to be with you,” you admit shyly. “I-I can take all of you, y-you know?”
Feeling as though he’ll lose this time, he sighs and reaches for the drawers to grab a condom, “If it hurts tell me to stop, alright?” You don’t say anything back but he could feel your heart race, “Need your words, princess. Or else we’re cutting the fun short.”
Out of panic, you think you jumbled the words out of your mouth, “Ah–yes! I will, K-koobear.”
“Koobear,” he scoffed, then poked his tongue in his cheek, eyeing you intently at the use of the nickname while ripping the foil open. “It’s either you call me by my government name or baby, but preferably when I fuck you,” he explains further while rolling the condom down to his shaft.
“Why? I like calling you Koo and you’re as big as a–Oh!” Your words are immediately cut short when the tip of his cock slowly enters your core.
“Do you want to stop?” He asks with worry.
Shaking your head, you threw your head back and rested against his chest, “N-no, just a switch in our positions, I think.”
“You think?” He scoffs.
In one swift movement, well more like a blink of an eye, it was as if you were manhandled by him when he flips the position in a snap – it was now him hovering over your body that’s small compared to his. He towers over you, pinning both of your hands with one hand, and he smirks at this. If anything, he’s enjoying the very obvious size difference between you and him. You felt small, heck curling up would make you even tinier, but the feeling of enjoying it is bubbling in your stomach.
Jeongguk’s brows lifted as he parted your legs, seeing how wet you’d already been. It’s so fascinating to him how such a tiny cunt could be so slick, “Jesus Christ, you’re wet as hell.”
“Don’t say that,” you shyly mumbled while watching your boyfriend through your lashes.
“What? Getting shy already?” He teases as he leans down to your dripping cunt.
Jeongguk spreads your legs apart, tracing his nose along your slit that’s enough to send shivers down your spine. He sure knows what he’s doing, alright. He then spits in your pussy and watches his spit dripping along your slit, humming in approval when your hole sucked in his spit.
“Mmm, now that’s a needy cunt,” an amused smirk graces his lips when he notices your goosebumps. “I promise you won’t regret this.”
Chuckling, you replied, “I don’t think there was ever a time that I regretted anything with you.”
Your boyfriend leans in closer as he aligns his hardened member in your entrance, “That’s so good to hear from you, princess.” Slowly, he enters inside you making you wince slightly, “God, you’re tight as fuck.”
You let out a soundless gasp, lips parted, and eyes pooling with tears from the mixed feeling of slight pain and pleasure. Jeongguk notices this and briefly stops when his whole length is finally inside you, “You good?”
“Y-yes, it just feels…so different,” you assured.
“I’ll move now, alright?” His thumb runs across your cheeks soothingly as he slowly fucks you until you adjust to his size. Underneath him, you look so fragile, so helpless, yet so submissive to him.
Your hands trailed down to where he was bulging under your skin, rubbing his embossed form while your eyes fluttered, “Y-you’re so big, Koo. So deep inside me.”
“I’ll let you adjust to my length, babe,” there was a tinge of amusement inside of him as he studies every reaction your body makes.
“It’s okay, I can take it,” you say with conviction this time, and that made him somewhat proud – you take all of his fat and big cock with no fuss.
“This pussy is made for me, huh?” Jeongguk picks up the pace this time only because he enjoys watching your tits bounce as he rocks your body. “Makes me wanna do crazy shit like have your name tattooed on my rib,” you gasped, scratching lines against his back.
“Please look at me,” he gently moves away the stray hairs that stuck on your sweaty face. “Wanna see how pretty my baby is.”
You slowly open your eyes with a lust-filled gaze and this is where he lost his shit. He rams inside of you faster and harder this time, making you arch your back at the newfound pleasure he was hitting.
“What if I break this condom off and fill you with my cum?” Your pussy tightens at the idea of his cum overflowing out of your cunts because it couldn’t take how much he had spurted inside of you. “Fuck, you tightened. You like that don’t you?”
Obviously not thinking straight because your boyfriend was fucking your wits out, you nodded, “I– yes, want you to fuck me harder ‘til it breaks.” And so he did fuck you hard.
It was like a magic word that made him cum so fast and you the same.
He could feel your body trembling, your breathing still fast. He waited for a moment or two for himself to soften up so he could pull out gently. Your still slightly clenching hole almost pushing his dick out of yourself. Meanwhile, he discards the condom with no mess.
You whined at the empty feeling, and he hushed you gently, moving around so he was sitting up against his headboard, your body on his lap, head on his shoulder. His hand moved back and forth over your spine, the other keeping your body steadily against him.
“You did so, so good baby.” He gently whispered between your breaths, still coming out a little faster than they should. “I was actually kind of worried you wouldn’t be able to take it. You impress me too much, you know that?” He said, making you giggle.
You weren’t quite back yet, still bathing in your own afterglow, and he simply waited for you to calm down, slowly becoming aware of your surroundings again. Legs still shaking from losing your virginity, you noticed a pool of wetness in your sheets.
“The sheets are soiled,” you frowned.
Jeongguk clicked his tongue teasingly, “That’s not very nice of you, princess.”
“I’m sorry,” you peeked at him with a tired pout.
“It’s fine. It’s time to change it anyway,” he runs his finger against your back, making soothing circles that made you fall asleep instantly.
Wearing short dresses while out in the park is one of the small joys you enjoy doing with your boyfriend. Not to mention that sitting on his lap is a plus…except he gets overprotective whenever your skirt riles up like now – one hand over your lap, serving as weights to the fluttering fabric.
Guess guard dog privilege is real when Jeongguk is your boyfriend.
Peeking at him, your brows rose at his creased forehead, "Why do you look like you're ready to fight?"
"Because I am," he says without blinking, though his eyes are following those who would spare you a glance.
You blinked in confusion, "...What?"
"Yes," he nodded with assertiveness.
Ah, of course. Being overprotective. Such a Jeongguk thing to do.
There are days when you don’t understand what your boyfriend is doing, but you can’t deny the fact that he’s fun to be around. Like always, you shrug it all off, sit on his lap, and wrap your arms around his neck as you nuzzle against his skin – a sure way to make him smile from ear to ear.
“Baby, can you take one of those polaroid pictures in that lingerie?” He asks with lips against your hair. Jeongguk has a habit of kissing the side of your head just because he can.
At this, your lips part at the sudden request; he’s never asked this before, “Why?”
“Wanna keep it in my wallet,” he only shrugged when you blinked at his answer. “I’m romantic as fuck.”
UNHOLY | DAEMON TARGARYEN
Did I use the gif of Daemon and Rhaenyra... yes I did. They're both so fucking hot. I don't care how wrong it is. If I believed in hell I'm sure I'd be going there 😅
This fic was inspired by the recent episode of House of the Dragon and Sam Smith's unreleased song 'Unholy'.
Please, please please, do not forget to like, comment and reblog!! 🥰
Pairings: Daemon Targaryen x OC [Elaena Targaryen]
Summary: A secret rendezvous between a Prince and Princess. What more could you want?
Warnings: 18+; incest (sorry?); sex; penetration; unprotected sex; minor mention of blood; oral sex; mention of bodily fluids; teasing
I also want to add that I used a website for the High Valyrian, so I apologise in advance if it is incorrect.
Word Count: 2.8k words
There was a charge of electricity that sizzled between the Prince and Princess, the anticipation almost palpable. They stood across from one another, gaze never faltering, the vacant iron throne their only witness.
It was late in the evening, the sconces on the walls burned dimly, casting shadows across their faces.
Her eyes, a violet light, guiding him.
The princess had escaped her room, guards none the wiser.
She had evaded them at every turn, with their voices too loud, footsteps a thunder with every step taken; no doubt which path they would take.
Though if she were to be found, unaccompanied by her Kingsguard, it wouldn’t come as much of a surprise. She was known to been found on many occasions traveling empty halls, reading in odd places, the novelty of finding her unchaperoned, wearing off as the years went by.
Except tonight was different, for tonight had purpose.
There was no aimless wandering, marvelling at the surrounding view of the keep, the endless library offering no more a temptation than that of the kitchens. Her interest for the evening had already been garnered.
It was a note left by her bedclothes, written on a piece of cloth, a scrawl of writing requesting her presence, no signature at the bottom.
There needn’t be a name for she knew who called for her.
It was agony waiting for time to pass, letting her lady’s maid wash and clothe her, all the while pretending to grow weary with sleep.
As the evening went by, and the castles inhabitants wound down for the night, Elaena found herself readying to leave her chambers.
It didn’t take much to prepare as she went dressed as she was, taking a robe as a sort of shield and source of warmth, given the corridors of the keep grew especially cool of the evenings.
Her aim now was to leave undetected.
Men of the Kingsguard remain posted outside her chamber door throughout the night, protecting her from those who may mean her harm, yet they also protect her from herself and any shenanigans that may befall her. Tonight, it was Ser Harrold Westerling who stood guard.
It was often Ser Harrold that lingered when she couldn’t sleep, following her about the castle, making sure she did not find herself in any trouble.
For many reasons, this being but one, brought them closer, brokering a trust that wounded her to break.
Familiarity aside, Ser Harrold could not know where she went this night.
Much to her surprise, there was a secret entrance, one her conspirator made clear was there, hidden in her chambers, the details written in the note they had left. It concerned her to think of a secret door having been there all along whilst she has remained none the wiser.
The hidden passage, not too difficult to find, was dimly lit, the torches on the walls offering little in the way of light. The cool, frigid air howled all around her, skin turning to gooseflesh, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand. It did little to deter her or to wane the excited she felt humming through her. She was more than ready to reach her destination.
The map, if it could be as called such, what with it having been scrawled roughly on the scrap of cloth, guided her perfectly, though she felt the journey was never ending. A sigh of relief escaped, just as her path was met with a door, one that stood ajar.
Voices, that of drunken guards, drifted through, alerting her of passers-by, beseeching her to bide her time till they had passed.
It took only a moment or two of silence before she declared the coast clear. Stepping out from the darkened passageway, she found herself illuminated in the light of the great hall, the iron throne a stone throw away.
“I see you found your way,” a familiar voice called out.
There was a figure perched on the throne, face obscured by shadow, the flames of light illuminating just enough for her to see it was The Rogue Prince awaiting her arrival. Elaena took a hesitant step closer, surveying the space around them, making sure they were truly alone.
“Issa sepār ao se nyke.” It is just you and I
Daemon Targaryen pulled himself to his feet stalking his way towards his princess.
He stood before her now, back to the iron throne, mouth quirking to the side, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, the necklace that adorned it shining dimly in the light.
He drew closer, each step an echo in the empty hall, eyes never straying from hers.
“What a beautiful Jewell,” he whispered, fingers thumbing the Valyrian steel, “the person who gifted you such a thing, must think very highly of you.”
Elaena stood as still as her body would allow, doing her best to control her breathing.
“An admirer indeed,” she answered in turn, a gasp escaping as his finger teased the tender flesh of her chest.
He smiled wickedly, the corners of lips rising.
Spreading his fingers out, Daemon discarded the necklace, turning his attention to where he could feel the steady rhythm of her heart, the blood of the dragon thrumming through her veins.
Flexing his fingers, Daemon moved them lower, thumb kneading the softness of her skin.
Her heart beat quickened, thudding, harder and stronger against the cage of her ribs, as his touch lingered.
Fingers merely an inch from the curve of her breast, Daemon delighted in teasing her flesh; pinching and kneading as he went along.
Her robe a disastrous shield, bared to him the thinness of her night dress, the exposed buds of her breasts, hardened by the rawness of the night. There was no fire to mind the cold, the heat of each other’s bodies their only source of warmth.
Maintaining her gaze, Daemon eased his thumb lower, rubbing against her hardened nipple, teasing and tugging, forcing a whine to escape the princess as pleasure spiked right through to her core.
Both their eyes widening as the sound echoed around them.
The thought of the guards – anyone happening upon her in this state of undress, so exposed – drove him wild. The attention-seeker, deep down inside of him, wanting them to be found.
Elaena looked down at the hand caressing her breast, watching his attentions, unable to comprehend the magnitude of the situation.
Pleasure wasn’t novel to her, she had sought it on numerous occasions either on her own or in a pleasure house, but with Daemon it was something profound. Each time always like the first.
“It’s… madness.” She managed to uttered, voice husky with desire.
She struggled to find her words, thoughts growing more erratic as her lover inflicted his attentions further, bringing his lips to her breast, tongue teasing her through the thin fabric of her shift. She was being driven mad.
There didn’t seem to be much room for coherent thought.
Daemon used his tongue to tease the Princess, suckling her sweetly, using his unoccupied hand to venture up the column of her neck to the expanse of her jaw, gently prying her lips open, slipping two fingers inside.
Wetness pooled between her thighs as she swirled her tongue around the pad of his fingers, sucking and biting them lightly.
“Iksis bisa skoros jaelā?” Is this what you want? He asked.
Daemon’s voice a steady rasp against her flesh.
He slipped his finger from her lips, smearing saliva across them, leaving a trail across her cheek, down her neck and back to her breasts, swirling carefully around the perked nipple.
“Kostilus.” Please. She begged.
Her whimper was enough to undo him. His plans to savour her – this moment – almost ruined. All by the sound of her neediness.
Eyes boring into hers, Daemon brought himself to his knees. He grabbed the hem of her shift lifting and gripping it tight in his fist, the wet between her thighs exposed.
He stared, mesmerized, and leaned his face closer; lips close enough to touch.
He breathed in deep, taking in the musky scent of her.
Elaena was sure her face burned red, cheeks warming at the sight before her, mortified by what he was doing.
Out of the many men she had taken to bed none had shown her this close attention. Daemon had never done so in the past. It was a first for them.
His name, a moan on her lips as he used his tongue to tickle the flesh above her clitoris, fingers, two of them, teasing the seam of her, rubbing her slickness all around. As she looked down, she could see the hardness of him, straining against his pants, begging for attention.
She longed to have him – taste him.
A whine escaped her as he inserted his two fingers, introducing her to a steady pace, pumping inside and out, thumb rubbing lazy circles on her clit. All of his attention focused on finding that secret spot inside, one he hoped to become very well acquainted with.
Elaena was a mess as Daemon continued his torment, fucking her slowly with his fingers.
She gripped the back of his head, tendrils of icy blonde hair, tangled in her fingers as she kept him close.
He managed to maintain his cunning smile, his wicked, ever-present grin never faltering. His tongue caught between his teeth as he looked up at her, admiring the reaction he elicited with his touch.
“Kostilus.” She begged again.
Much too soon a feeling of emptiness found her as Daemon withdrew his fingers. He brought them to his lips, relishing the taste of her.
Elaena watched on in an overwhelming haze brought on by her impending gratification; her climax begging and clawing at her now, demanding release.
“Come,” he commanded, bringing himself to his feet.
She took his hand, allowing him to tug her toward the Throne. He sat down carefully, manoeuvring himself in a way that would avoid the sharpened blades that made up the Iron Throne. She kept his gaze, watching as he made himself comfortable.
They were silent for a moment, Daemons heated gaze washing over her. Moving his hand beneath his trousers he took hold of his cock, rubbing it up and down slowly, teasing himself before her.
Elaena watched on, bottom lip caught between her teeth, hands itching to take his place. Wanting more than anything to be the source of his pleasure.
He released his cock, freeing it from the confines of his trousers and beckoned her forward with the tilt of his head, a silent invitation.
Arousal slicked between the apex of her thighs, desire begging her to move forward, and mount her prince.
Looking over her shoulder, wanting to be careful, Elaena made sure they were alone. Afraid of what would happen if they were found, less afraid of fucking him on the Iron Throne.
“Iksā ȳgha” you are safe, he assured, eyeing their surroundings carefully.
She made to move towards him, her decision having already been made the moment she agreed to meet him after dark.
He held out his hand, guiding her closer.
“Take off your robe.”
An easy command, one she had no qualms in following. Elaena eased the heavy material from her shoulders and offered it to him. He wrapped it around his back, lifting his bottom half up, doing his best to be shield them both from the sharpness of the blades.
His thoughtfulness tugged at her, the love she had for him intensifying – her love already regarded as limitless, ever expanding, in that moment, overpowered every fibre of her being.
Carefully she begun to straddle his waist, griping the hem of her dress, allowing it to pool at her waist. He placed her hands on his chest, squeezing them gently, guiding her, just before letting go. An unspoken offer of assurance.
“Avy jorrāelan, ñuha dōna,” I love you, my sweet.
Daemon cupped the backs of her thighs, pulling her closer.
They sat like that for a moment, taking in the erotic scene before them. Daemon’s cock lined against the seam of her, rubbing gently, up and down, coating itself in the slickness of her. Biting her lip Elaena let a groan escape as he guided himself inside her, finally giving in.
She threw head back, the throes of pleasure overwhelming – driving Daemon wild.
Elaena squeezed her eyes, a faint hiss escaping her lips as he guided her down, engulfing his length. He fucked her slowly, trying to build a rhythm they could both enjoy. Her pleasure just as valuable as his own.
He eased himself, inside and out, unhurried, and ignorant of her pleas, enjoying the unhurried pace he chose to set.
Daemon moved his hand to where they joined, palm flush against her stomach, thumb rubbing circles furiously, placing all his attention on her sex.
She quivered in his arms, voice hoarse, pleasure drenching every sound that escaped her.
Blood rose where her nails scarred his skin, Elaena’s lust manifesting through her hands, marking him.
Daemon quickened their pace, the sound of skin on skin, echoing throughout the hall, the sound bound to alert any guard patrolling nearby.
“I’m… I’m... fuck.”
She was at a loss for words.
Meeting him, thrust for thrust, bucking wildly as his cock found the right place, nestled deep inside her.
Hard to find if ignorant, effortless if one took care. He found her point of release, taking her hard, with every whimper and moan she threw his way, bringing her to the precipice of release.
His own pleasure mirrored her own, his composure threatening to crack as the heat of her tortured, clamping down around him.
Drunken laughter, barely perceptible, reached Daemons ears. He did not slow his pace, determined to bring her the release she desperately craved.
Instead, a plan began forming in his mind, as he gripped her waist, preparing himself to stand, only stalling his thrusts to take her with him as he stood.
He swallowed her shriek in a sloppy kiss, refusing to allow her to draw attention to their antics. He slid out of her, placing her on unsteady legs.
The sudden absence caused her to whine and pout her lips.
He eyed her playfully, clucking his tongue.
“You’re a greedy thing, aren’t you.”
Not allowing for a response he grabbed her hand leading her swiftly and silently, to where she had entered, the door of the secret passage hidden by shadows in the far-off corner of the hall. It offered enough protection should someone enter to investigate.
He backed her onto the door, one hand gripping in his lovers, the other lifting her shift, exposing the apex of her thighs, her glistening sex taunting him.
“Come…” she whispered, voice husky – breathless, “finish what you started.”
He let go of her hand, all but driven to madness, and gripped her backside, the palm of both hands kneading her softly. She wrapped a leg around his waist, tugging him closer.
“Jaelan aōha orvorta iemnȳ nyke.” I want your cock inside me.
There was no hesitation.
Daemon lifted her roughly, wrapping her legs around his waist.
“Gaomagon ziry aōla.” Do it yourself.
Biting her lip Elaena rose to the challenge and gripped his length in her hand and used the other to squeeze his arse and pull him closer, guiding him back home.
He fucked her relentlessly – almost furiously, intent on finishing what they had started.
Their lips lingered close to one another, their ragged breaths mingling, fanning across their faces.
“Iksā ñuhon.” You are mine.
He liked to remind her of that when they were like this, rutting against one another like animals, his cock buried deep inside, both of them feral for one another’s touch.
The declaration always gave her chills, the reminder never needed, yet craved deeply.
Daemon brought her closer to her climax, the need to own her release almost turning him into an animal.
It was oft a beautiful, messy thing, watching her release. Her eyes were often scrunched tightly, gaze avoidant as it washed over her.
Though not this time. This time her eyes remained wide and defiant as she held his gaze. Her voice was hoarse, moans of pleasure turned to whispers, teeth digging into the skin of her lip, blood threatening to spill. Daemon found it mesmerising.
He slipped out, finishing himself on her stomach, the heat of his release sticking to skin and cloth alike. A smile tugged at her lips as she looked down taking in the mess he had left, and looked back up meeting his heated gaze.
They stood like that for what felt like an eternity, chests heaving, bodies convulsing, vision foggy – moving in and out of focus. Their releases washing over them.
Him holding her.
“You, Daemon Targaryen, are mine.”
And to him, truer words had never been spoken.
I've seriously been wanting to make a big post appreciating some of the dca content creators that I love (especially after getting to know some of them better) so here's a bunch of compliments and thoughts on them! (Also this is in no order, ily all very much ❤)
@madame-mongoose: Monnster!!! Oh, I love Monnie. Very bullyable (this is a pro). Always so funny and making me laugh. When Monnie comes online, I know there's gonna be some fun times to be had. Easy to talk to and my clone apparently. I wouldn't have made all these new friends if it weren't for Monnie and Sy, so I'm very appreciative of her uwu. Art is very shapely, bendy, very cartoonish in a pleasing way. And very unique to Monnie! I don't think I've seen anyone else with an artstyle like Monnie's. Characters are juicy, very well thought out and full of pain. Your mom.
@suokumi: You came crashing in one day and life has never been the same. Suo is full of love and passion and awful terrible disgusting sleeping habits. But they make up for it by telling everyone else to take care of themselves because they love you sososo much. Really talented, but don't tell them that or else they'll die. Anyway yeah, Suo Art my beloved and also Suo my beloved because we're married. Can bust out 50+ sketches in an hour and is like "dont look" even though I'm frothing at the mouth and shaking them. I love you Suo mwah ❤️
@opudontdonut: La Creatura!!! Bites everyone like watermelon. very fun, very gremlin. Pops in every now and again and throws everyone into a frenzy. A biting frenzy. Good Gaslighter. Take that as you may. Draws chibis really unique in a way I cannot replicate but is so so so so cute. Art is very distinct too!!! The line work especially is very noticable? Thick black lines. Draws the boys v skrunkly too. Nightmare and therapy au my beloveds.
@ariisonfire: TALENTED!!! Very, very talented. Animates, codes, arts, does just about everything and is good at it. Very funny doodles, very dorky. I love Ari!!! Very cute (cutest giggles this side of uh. Idk just really cute giggles) and provides me with Vector content. My spouse, no matter what Lily says.
@skittlewaffle: LOVE the way Kay draws the boys. Her art in general is so sharp and intentional. Precise. Very cartoony as well, good for animation me thinks. Has good AU ideas and brainstorms really well. Literally. The fucking paragraphs kay busts out that obliterate my mind. Also very fun person to hang out with, very silly.
@pillowspace: Beautiful, wonderful person. Somehow manages to draw on her 3ds??? Like a god?? Loves rotini (eat something else I'm begging you) KEEPS FUCKING REBLOGGING MY WATERFALLS PIECE Also has similar brain thoughts as me (ooie to Angel Tango jumpscare) Has a beautiful voice, fr. Sang a song for me which melted my little heart. Makes gut-bustingly funny gifs at the speed of light. Also says??? Things that make no sense but are very funny.
@vilz: Oof, what's not good to say about Val? You know that meme that's like "You're the funniest mother fucker on this webbed site" that's Val. Val's the funniest. Their comics always make me bark laugh like an idiot. Writes very poetically, reading their stuff is like. Like being punched but with a soft caress. Val art is good for the soul, me thinks. Even their doodles on receipt paper give me all the chemicals. Hanging out with Val leaves me smiling for the rest of the day, very fun company.
@cloudyvoid: SUPER talented. Can you believe they drew and rigged their own Vtuber model? I know, impressive right? Draws the DCA skrunkly and lanky just how I like 'em. BRAINS SO HARD WITH ME ABOUT DROWSIE AND GAIA!!? Very nice wonderful person as well, fun company. And ooughhh I just love the oc brainrot with her. Could do it all day, love you mwah.
@crazedauthor: Knows all the fanfics. Well maybe not all, but knows the ones I happen to be thinking about. Pops in mid brainstorm to add something juicy that adds fuel to the fire. Human gasoline. Got obliterated by 1 (one) chip. o7
@daunsun: Another sketch machine. Gives me Eclipse content. FIABC liker, which automatically elevates her status. Tries to shoot people who make fanart, but she deserves it so idk what to tell you. And then turns around and makes fanart for other ppl. smh double standards. Love the way she draws humans. And the boys, but that goes without saying. Honestly the way daun draws the boys is sooo good it's like. I can't even describe. It's like cupcake. Long cupcake.
@cakesfunhouse: Hi __ I'm Cole looking ass. Shoots me dead with fluffy ramblings all the fucking time. Brainstorms really well, dropping good ideas like they had them shoved in their pockets ready to throw. Actually really sweet and fun to talk to. Gremlin, though so beware, they bite. Draws biblically accurate dca fluff, so what's not to love. Will pop in randomly while you're talking to someone else to add something that kills me dead. Like wheezing laughter.
@nmfergus: Nikki my beloved 💜 such a sweetheart, loves to see people happy and excited, always asking questions and seeing how everyone is doing. CHICKENS!!! Farmville. Also Corndrop. Ask Nikki about corndrop. Can you guess what he sells? It's corn. The answer is corn.
@paper-lilypie: LILY!!! omg Lily real. Art is all soft lines and easy to read expressions and kisses and snuggles and basically when I see lily art it's like drinking a cup of hot cocoa. Also the way Lily draws hands? God, what a legend. Give me your hands. Little hater. And enabler. But she's my little hater/enabler so it's okay ❤️ love me a good Lily spotting. Has good au ideas too.
@sycopomp: SYBORG!!! I wouldn't be making this post if it weren't for them and Monnster. Sy writing makes brain go brrrr. Has this way of setting stuff up that pays off later? Like little hints into things that are really fun to pick apart/notice on your own. I can always picture what's happening in Sy writing really well which sucks for me personally when they write ouchie owies. But I love them for it mwah ❤️
@sinnabee: AH Sinna!!! Magician Au makes my brain neurons activate so hard. Very sweet as well, love doing magmas with her. Also funny and caring. Don't get to hang out with much because if timezones but I am always very happy when I do get to vibe with a Sinna. Has wonderful beautiful line work and cool ocs I want to know more about.
@spaciebabie: Chaos. (I'm tempted to have that be the only thing I put here) Also makes me laugh!! drops in and says some shit that has me giggling sillystupid. Art is bubbly. Round. Rotund. Want to get to know better!!! Pizza.
Special Mentions/People I want to get to know better:
@oobbbear: Bearz. Bearz my beloved. Your art makes my heart explode. And you're so funny even without knowing you well. 👁👁 The way you draw so chibi and yet so detailed? Like the way you draw hands? Impeccable. Also H mouth. H mouth so cute. I honestly don't think I would have gotten into drawing Sun and Moon fanart if it wasn't for Bearz' aus infecting me like a disease. So everyone say thank you to Bearz for roping me into this!
@hexheathen: MY NUMBER ONE FAN ❤ My bestie who doesn't know the jesties. I love you with all my heart, and I love spending time with you and the rest of our pals. This is my appreciation post and I say you get appreciated.
@bones-of-a-rabbit: SHY BEAN. Drops some cute ass shit and skitters away. Wish I could know better! They have a lot of good ideas and honestly I see them as one of the best fluff writers for DCA content. It was in Reality Not Fine my beloved. I've said it once and I'll say it again: They really capture the word "Lovestruck" with their expressions. When people say, "They looked at them like they hung the moon and the stars," I imagine the way Rabbit draws sun and moon looking at y/n. It's honestly such a talent.
Front Row Seat (18+)
Soft!Dark!Lloyd Hansen x PlusSize!Reader
Summary: Lloyd gives you something to do while he’s getting information out of his target–keep his cock nice and warm.
Warnings: (I mean, it’s Lloyd which seems like all the warning u need) Dark!fic, Non-con/Dub-con(reader is Lloyd’s captive), Smut, Cock warming, P in V sex, Public sex/humiliation, degradation, Pet names, Overstimulation, Angst, Canon level violence & description of Lloyd’s “interrogation” tactics (to an OC) similar to those used in the movie, 18+ Minors DNI. DNR if you do not like or are triggered by such topics. Read at your own risk.
Connected to this drabble: Actions Have Consequences, but it’s not necessary to read it b4 this fic.
Word Count: 4,223
A/N: Do I even need to add ‘dark!’ in front of Lloyd’s name? I feel like it’s a given😈 This man is my new obsession & I’m fully here for it. If you have any requests for this pairing-or just this mustachioed psycho in general-lmk! Like, comment, reblog, I always appreciate feedback so plz let me know what u think!
This story should not be posted anywhere else without my express permission.
Thanks for reading!
“Come on, princess, we don’t got all day!” Lloyd stands a few paces away from the roaring helicopter, his hands resting on his hips, clearly losing his patience waiting for you to get out of the flying death trap. You inhale deeply and unbuckle your seatbelt, which is difficult to do with your trembling hands. Finally, you get it and it zips back into the seat; you stand up on legs just as shaky as your hands and stumble to the open door.
Suddenly, the copter tilts. You’re jostled to the side and your hip rams into an armrest. You cry out, knowing a bruise is already blossoming on the tender flesh. This cabin is too fucking small.
Lloyd’s boisterous laughter rings through the air and you shoot him a silent curse. You wouldn’t ever dare say anything audible, but in your head, you’re throwing every curse under the sun at his smug face.
The chopper hovers a few feet off the ground instead of resting on the helipad for some ungodly reason, and you hesitate when you reach its edge. You swallow, not confident if you hop down that you’ll land on your feet.
Lloyd reaches his arms up. “Jump, I’ll catch ya, sweetheart!” His promise gives you no peace of mind. Lloyd may be strong but you doubt he can so much as lift you up. His eyes narrow when you don’t move. “I said, jump.” Lloyd’s word is law, so you hold your breath and leap.
You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for a rough landing but it doesn’t come. Two strong arms sweep around your waist and Lloyd pulls you into his chest with a satisfied grunt. His arms are steel, surrounding you in a bear hug. Your feet dangle a foot above the ground; he leans down and they’re met with solid pavement. He drops his arms, resting his hands on your soft waist. “Told you I’d catch ya, princess.” He winks and gives your asscheeks a quick squeeze. You jump at the sudden advance and he snickers.
Grabbing your hand, he leads you away from the helicopter as it flies off, the wind from the spinning blades whipping your hair in every direction. Lloyd’s hair, of course, stays perfectly coiffed, not a dark strand out of place.
Now that you aren’t focused on your harrowing chopper dismount, you look around at your surroundings to see where he’s taking you. A giant hangar sits in the middle of an asphalt lot. A forest of green trees and underbrush crowd around it on all sides except the front. The foliage stretches as far as you can see, parted by a narrow airplane runway.
You have no clue where you are. Ever since you “joined” Lloyd, as he likes to put it, you never have any definitive clue as to your exact location. Sometimes you can make an educated guess, but mostly you’ve given up on attempting to find your bearings. It doesn’t matter anyway. No matter where you go, Lloyd is right there next to you, dictating your every move.
All you know about this place is that Lloyd said he wanted you to come along on one of his “work trips” so you can get acquainted with his line of work. You’re not eager to find out what this “work trip” entails, because knowing Lloyd’s profession, it can’t be good.
A man in tactical armor carrying a large shotgun opens the hangar door and you step into a brightly lit metal cavern. Two sleek charter planes take up most of the building, and large wooden crates fill up any empty space. You can only guess as to what’s inside them, and you don’t want to find out.
Lloyd leads you to a door at the back of the hangar that opens into a long hallway. A musty smell permeates the stale air. Three menacing steel doors line the passage, illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights. Lloyd stops at the last door and raps his knuckles on the dull gray metal.
The door opens and you gasp when you see a man tied to a chair in the middle of the room, a cloth sack covering his head. Your heart begins racing and your eyes fly around the stuffy interior, taking in the two armed guards, the long table lining the far wall, and the worn-out stains splattered around the room. You try not to focus on the dark splotches, even though you’re fairly certain they aren’t old ketchup stains.
You’re too shocked to resist when Lloyd pulls you into what you assume is some kind of interrogation room. Two more guards follow behind. When the door slams shut behind them you snap out of your stupor.
You begin to hyperventilate, your shaky breaths becoming ragged. You tug against Lloyd’s grip, desperate for an escape. The small rectangular windows lining the wall are hardly big enough for you to slip out of, and a guard blocks the only door in the cramped room.
Lloyd squeezes your hand tightly and you yelp, ceasing your attempts to pull free. You whip around to face him, your eyes are wide as saucers and full of panic. His striking face is as calm and cocky as ever. “Don’t be shy princess, you’re being very rude, not greeting our special guest,” he coos, his tone patronizing. He walks over to the man tied to the chair, towing you behind him.
When he’s close enough, Lloyd reaches out and yanks off the sack around the man’s head. His lined face is pinched with rage and he strains against the ropes, his shouts muffled by a dirty black cloth in his mouth. Lloyd pats the angry man’s cheek before he straightens back up. He glances down at you and cocks his head. “Don’t worry about all this,” he gestures around the dingy room, “Mr. Wilson was invited here to have a little chat. He’s gonna answer some questions, isn’t that right, Wilson?”
He bends back down to look at the trapped man–Wilson–and makes a concerned face, “Are you comfortable, old pal? Can I get you anything? Some water? Although you’ll probably want something much stronger for what’s about to happen to you.” Wilson’s dark eyes narrow and he struggles against his restraints, more muffled yells sounding from his gagged mouth. Lloyd’s face scrunches up in mock sympathy. “Sorry, I didn’t get that. Guess you’ll just have to stay here for now.”
Lloyd steps back and motions to one of his men, who sets a large tactical-looking box on the table. While the sizable guard unpacks everything, Lloyd guides you over to a corner on the opposite side of the room. He sets you in front of two more intimidating guards so that you’re facing the bound man. He cups your cheek and murmurs, “Stay right here and watch, princess. Like I said before, I want you to get a taste of what daddy does when he’s not at home.” He gives you a playful wink and pinches your cheek before getting back to the task at hand.
He grabs a chair that’s sitting against the back wall and drags it up to rest in front of Wilson. He doesn’t turn the chair around, instead straddling it with the back facing forward. Leaning over to the table on his left, Lloyd unfurls one of the rolled-up bundles laying on it and a neat row of various metal instruments is revealed. Your stomach drops to the floor at the sight of the ominous devices.
“Now then,” Lloyd hums, as his hand grabs the gag in Wilson’s mouth, “let’s remove this cumbersome thing first.” He rips it out but before Wilson can say anything intelligible, Lloyd cracks him square in the face with his massive fist. The assaulted man’s head snaps back and he lets out a gurgled scream. You jump, covering your mouth with both hands to keep yourself from duplicating the strangled cry. When he lifts his head back up his nose is already turning purple, blood gushing from it.
Lloyd doesn’t miss a beat, he snatches a pair of small pliers from his “toolkit” and waves it in front of the bleeding man’s face. “That was just a little taste. Things are gonna get a lot more painful for you if ya don’t start giving me some answers. Now, is there something you wanna tell me?”
Wilson splutters, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
This time Lloyd’s fist connects with the side of his face; the sickening crunch making your insides reel.
“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.” As he speaks, the same man who had set up Lloyd’s workstation snatches Wilson’s right hand, straitening one of his fingers out. Lloyd moves in front of it, obstructing your view of the hand, but you can infer by the sounds of pain what he’s doing with the small pliers he’d chosen.
When his howling captive claims ignorance again, Lloyd wrenches his arm back and Wilson’s pained cries increase. “Wrong answer!” Wilson has a crazed look in his eye as Lloyd sets something on the table with the pliers. You almost hurl when you see it. A bloody fingernail.
The nightmare continues for what feels like hours; Lloyd still not getting any closer to whatever it is he’s seeking. You do your best to hold back your revulsion but when the metallic stench of blood hits you, you can’t keep yourself from crying out. When they move to his left hand and you finally see the gruesome work they had down to his right, you sob.
At this point, you can’t control your gasps of horror and mournful whimpers as the man in control of your life tortures a helpless victim in front of your very own eyes. Tears start to stream down your face and your hysterics become louder, drowning out Wilson’s own cries. When Lloyd places the now bloodied pliers down and picks up a much larger pair you can’t control yourself from wailing. “Stop!”
Lloyd stills and draws his hand back from the array of sharp tools, a sudden ominous aura radiating off of him.
Oh god, what have you done?
He slowly stands up, swinging his left leg over the seat, and turns to face you. You expect fury on his features but instead, his eyes gleam with ravenous excitement. Lloyd cracks his neck and saunters forward. His voice drips poisonous honey when he speaks, “You know, sweetheart, normally I’d be pissed at anyone for interrupting me in the middle of work. I mean, I was on a roll, princess!” His posture as he looms towards you is wound tight with unspent energy. You step back but run into the guards behind you. “However, princess, I was already having a difficult time enjoying myself with all your little intrusive sounds.”
He stops directly in front of you, his body almost touching yours, and brings his bloody hands up to frame your face. His touch feels like needles on your heated skin. He squinches his features into a mocking pout, wiping away one of the tears staining your cheek with his thumb.
“I know you’re not used to this yet, but fuck, I didn’t think you’d react like this. You can barely contain yourself, hun. And let me tell you princess, all those whines and moans of yours are making it pretty damn hard to concentrate.” He grabs one of your limp hands and drags it over his crotch. You gasp when you feel his prominent erection and try to jerk your hand back but he grips it tight, massaging your soft palm against his growing bulge. “Fuck, sweetheart. I don’t know how I’m supposed to work under these conditions.”
He suddenly pulls back and strides back over to his bruised prisoner. Wilson flinches when he nears but Lloyd snatches the chair he’d been straddling and drags it back, turning it around as he does so. He sets the heavy metal chair about five feet away from the beaten and bloody man. He sits down, lounging back in his seat, and looks over at you and smiles, his wide grin reminding you of a wolf baring its sharp teeth.
Lloyd wastes no time pulling his straining cock out of his pants, clutching the growing member in his strong grip. His eyes devour you as he strokes it up and down. You’ll never get used to the sight of it, huge and throbbing, the head already leaking pre-cum. It’s split you open too many times to count at this point, but still, your pussy walls are never prepared for his massive size. The first few strokes are always pure agony as your walls are stretched to encompass his substantial girth.
Lloyd’s deep voice cuts through your wandering thoughts, “Well, come on over, princess. Come sit on daddy’s lap so he can help you through all this.”
You step forward but hesitate, hovering just out of his reach. You look around the room with wide eyes, feeling all the heated gazes lingering on your quivering form. Your mouth is dry and your skin feels clammy like you’re burning up. Your voice quavers as you mutter, “P-please, Lloyd, don’t make me do this. I can’t–”
His shrewd eyes flash a warning and you swallow your protest, otherwise, it might be you strapped to the chair opposite him next. You inch towards him, hanging your head; your body shaking with embarrassment. Fear-filled adrenaline and deep shame shoot through your veins.
When you reach him you start to climb onto his lap but he stops you with a blood-smeared hand on your hip. He grips the sides of your pants and tugs them down, taking your panties with them. Your breath hitches and new tears well in your eyes. You cover your face as you step out of your pants, too ashamed to look him in the eyes.
Lloyd takes your hands in his and pulls them away from your cowering face. He chuckles under his breath, eyes dilating at the sight of you bare before him. He licks his lips and his dark mustache twitches when he notices the tremor in your thick thighs. “Hop on, sweetheart.”
Before you can straddle him, he grabs your wide hips and spins you around. “You don’t want to miss the show, now do you, princess?” Your eyes widen when you see the towering guard who had been assisting Lloyd beforehand starting up a generator; attaching jumper cables to it. “Lucky you, getting to watch Tod take over. He’s pretty good at this stuff too, not as good as me, of course.”
Lloyd’s grip on you is tight as he lowers your ass down onto his cock. His cock-head slips in between your pulsing pussy-lips and you gasp at the sensation as he stuffs his thick length inside of you. The burn of him stretching your walls as he pulls you down inch by inch is insufferable. You mewl, throwing your head back and sucking in deep breaths, trying to relax your tense muscles.
He’d already filled you up once today, in the shower that morning, so your pussy is already sore and the added sting as he lowers you down is unbearable. The position you’re in only makes it worse. You can feel every ridge and bulging vein as he pulls your weight down onto his engorged dick, the full sensation too much for your already fucked out cunt. Your whimpers of pain only egg Lloyd on, and when he’s fully sheathed inside you he thrusts his hips up, slamming against your cervix.
You fall back into his chest, your toes curling at the merciless invasion. His next movements are minuscule; just small, shallow thrusts with his cock still buried to the hilt in your quivering sex. In between the teasing thrusts he circles your hips around his cock, growling at the feeling of your ass grinding against him.
His teasing thrusts drive you crazy. They’re enough to rile you up but are far from enough to offer you any kind of release. You’re even more ashamed that you’re yearning for pleasure in this grotesque situation. You excuse it as wanting to get it over with quickly so you can go back to cowering in the corner.
Lloyd doesn’t seem to have the same mindset, though. One of his hands rests on your thigh, squeezing and massaging your delicious curves, but only ghosting over where you need his scalding touch the most.
You don’t remember when he slipped his hand under your shirt, but he plucks one of your nipples and you gasp at the added stimulation. He pinches and teases the sensitive nubs with his rough fingers and you try not to think about the slight stickiness of them. You try not to think about the blood on his hands tainting your skin.
“Open your eyes, princess, I told you I don’t want you to miss the show.” Lloyd squeezes your now stinging nipple tight and you let out a strangled groan. His chest rumbles when your tight cunt clenches around his aching dick.
When you force your eyes open you immediately regret it. Tod, the guard, presses one of the electrified jumper cables to Wilson’s cheek and the man writhes in his seat, straining against his restraints. Tod has a twisted, delighted look on his face, similar to the one Lloyd always sports but less controlled.
With his henchman now doling out the punishments, Lloyd begins the same line of questioning as before. For every unsatisfactory answer Wilson gives, he gets a shock from Tod’s jumper cables, each strike leaving a slight burn in its wake.
All while Lloyd presses you to his cock, his arm thrown around your waist to keep your hips from bucking up. Even worse, with every blistering shock and cry for mercy, Lloyd’s dick twitches inside of you. You always knew Lloyd was a sick bastard, but you can’t believe the sadist is getting off on watching the brutal action playing out before you.
You feel sick. You want to hate him, you want to scratch his eyes out, pry his heavy hands from your body and crawl off his lap. But you’re too weak–both in body and spirit. Lloyd has broken you so many times that the notion of refusal, of fighting, is a fleeting fantasy. All you can do is watch the gruesome interrogation, helpless to the trauma unfolding in front of your eyes. And still, even while witnessing the awful torture, you’re coming undone by Lloyd’s relentless ministrations.
He has you right on the edge of pleasure, but the ache of his fat cock splitting you open is keeping you from your release. It’s all you can do to keep from begging for some kind of friction against your swollen bundle of nerves, not that you’d put it past Lloyd to demand you do just that.
Tod presses an electrified jumper cable to Wilson’s neck for a moment longer than the other shocks and he screams and thrashes like never before. The cries dwindle into weeping pleads for mercy as the electricity bleeds out of his system.
Lloyd can’t hold back his groan, “Fuck, princess, this is almost too much.” His hips snap up and you yell out his name. “That’s it,” he grumbles against your ear, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Take daddy’s fat cock. Look at you, a hungry little cock-slut getting off in front of all these people. Have you no shame, princess?”
His hips start rolling into you with a steady rhythm and it’s your turn to plead for mercy as he tears your pussy apart. He drops his hand to your cunt and you wail when he finally touches your needy clit.
You shake as he rubs small circles around the sensitive nub while he taunts you with more cruel words, “I had no idea you were such a dirty slut. This was supposed to be your punishment, princess. Your punishment for making me this hard in front of my men. In front of Mr. Wilson here. It’s downright unprofessional. Though I’m sure Wilson wishes his punishment was this–” he pinches your throbbing clit and you squeal, arching your back like a cat in heat–“pleasurable. Maybe if he had been more cooperative I would have been more inclined to share.”
Your breath hitches at what Lloyd is insinuating, disbelieving his words, but knowing deep down he would have no qualms passing you around if it helped him win. Because that’s all this is to him; a game that he loves to play. A game he must win at all cost, no matter who he has to hurt or manipulate or torture. There are no lines that can’t be crossed in Lloyd Hansen’s twisted playing field.
Lloyd breathes in your scent, “Hmmm…Well, maybe if Tod can get the info out, I’ll let him have a go as a reward for a job well done. There’s no amount of cock a cum-slut like you can refuse, right princess?” Your sounds of protest morph into moans of insatiable pleasure as he picks up the pace of his thrusts and applies more pressure to your clit.
You don’t miss the way Tod licks his lips as he looks at your plump pussy getting pounded by his boss. He adjusts himself before getting back to work with renewed vigor. You shiver, trepidation flooding your psyche. Goosebumps rise on your flesh.
Lloyd must have seen the lust-filled look in Tod’s eyes too because he growls deep in his throat and holds your hips in a vice-like grip. He starts bouncing you up and down on his swollen cock, stuffing your dripping cunt to the brim over and over again, your juices soaking his pristine white pants.
Every time his cock-head slides against your g-spot you see stars, barely able to make out Tod and the weeping Mr. Wilson. There’s no way you can control the salacious sounds spilling past your lips, you can’t think straight as Lloyd absolutely wreaks you.
Your breasts jiggle as he bounces you up and down. Other parts of you jiggle too, but Lloyd doesn’t care. He loves the feel of your generous curves pressed against the hard plains of his body, the force you can take as he drives his cock into you. But most of all, he loves how he can turn you into a cock-dumb, drooling mess. The wanton sounds he’s pulling from you right now are the reason he’s kept you by his side for so long–and why he’ll never let you go. You’re his perfect, pliable princess, and he will keep you locked in a tower if it means you’ll never escape his hold.
Your trembling walls squeeze tight around Lloyd’s dick when he slaps your clit, the sharp sensation shooting up your spine and unintelligible curses tumble from your chapped lips. You chant his name like a prayer when he lifts up your left leg, his powerful bicep curled under your knee. Over and over, he hits the spot inside of you that has you seeing stars as his cock slams up into you.
He orders Tod to shock Wilson when he denies him the information he’s seeking yet again. Lloyd growls in your ear as he cums at the exact same time the jumper cable meets flesh.
The feeling of his thick, hot cum shooting into you pushes you over the deep end. White hot flames spark through your veins. You convulse, your walls fluttering around Lloyd’s leaking dick as your entire body seizes up from your intense orgasm. You’re a jumble of cum and slurred speech as you come down from your lofty high. Your chest heaves as you try to reign air back into your lungs.
Lloyd bites your shoulder and you shudder at the sting of his teeth marking you as his. He laps at the wound, pleased with his handiwork. “So fucking perfect,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. Even though your stomach still has butterflies, you try to pull away from his muscular form–but you can barely wiggle your fingers, much less climb off of him.
Turns out, you don’t have to worry about that. Lloyd stills your movements with large hands placed on your waist, pressing you all the way back down onto his cock. It’s somehow hardening again, the stretch taking over your blown-out senses once more.
You groan, shifting uncomfortably in his lap, but Lloyd shushes you, “Uh-uh-uh, princess. You’re staying right here. Gotta keep daddy’s cock nice and warm while we wait for Mr. Wilson to cough up the answers we need. Besides, it’ll help your tight little cunt get acclimated to being wrapped around daddy’s cock while he works because you’re gonna need to get used to it.” He cups your jaw and forces your head forward.
You can’t even bring yourself to react to his foreboding declaration. All you can do is sit there with his insatiable cock filling your tender pussy and struggle to hold in your shameful moans. Lloyd clearly isn’t stopping until Wilson gives up the intel-or worse-either way, you’re going to be filled up with his pulsating length for the foreseeable future. Just like he wants.
“Tod, up the voltage.”
Hello, I wanted to ask two things that I'm confused for some time.
Firstly How do you really show your character's emotion, and inner conflict amidst the external conflict and plot, and how should it affect the other characters?
And secondly I wanted to ask about High Stakes. Surely I have added high stakes in my wip, but when I look it as a reader it didn't bring out emotions in me, if you know what I mean.
So how to add High Stakes that really get the reader hoping for better.
Hey @izoraofthenight! Thanks for the ask!
When it comes to portraying a character’s emotion, I like to keep one thing in mind— consequences. A lot of writing can be boiled down to cause and consequence. Think of a personal experience in which you have had an emotional reaction. What was the reason? Why did it fester to the point of such extremity? What did that emotion look like to a third person? By asking these questions you are highlighting: a) the cause/origin of the character’s emotion, in your case, an external conflict; b) the outcome of that emotional reaction; c) the perspective/affect it has on other characters. How it affects the characters itself depends on the type of emotion and outcome the character has portrayed. If their emotions are fear and they act in a way of self-preservation, another character might also begin to feel terrified by the reaction and sheer horror depicted by your character alone. However, if the second character were the origin of your character’s fear, they might instead feel satisfaction, or confusion, or disdain for the reaction. Determining how your character’s emotions impact others depends on the personality of your oc’s, the dynamic between the characters, and how that reaction progresses the story.
I’ll give you an example.
Character A has just realized their partner of four years has been cheating on them with their best friend, who is now pregnant with their child. The emotion A might feel in this moment is shock, betrayal, grief, anger, disgust, loneliness, confusion, and abandonment. These were two incredibly significant people in their life whom they had complete trust in, and that trust was violated and broken. A feels beyond terrible. They are unable to process their emotions because of the rapid fire in which they are experiencing them.
A’s inner conflict may be trying to navigate the betrayal. An inner monologue, or perhaps a scene in which they are just sitting in their bed, slumped over in defeat, struggling to take deep breaths because, who do they call in this situation? Who do they vent to? Who do they have to help them feel better? They might pace around their room in attempt to ease the restlessness that is overcoming them. Feel anxiety clawing at their chest because How could this be happening?
They might be too hurt to cry and confused why they can’t ball their eyes out like they want to. Or a heaviness in their chest. All of these portray the inner conflict of your character by depicting the external outcome of that internal struggle.
Because of this, A is now distancing themselves from both their partner and their best friend. They begin ghosting them, leaving them confused and agitated because they don’t know if A has found out about them. Maybe they try pampering them, love-bombing and showering A in gifts and compliments. Their coldness is setting them in unease. Why isn't A at least responding, or confronting, or something other than silence? This is how A’s internal struggle and its outcome is now affecting other characters. The decisions these characters choose to make depend on their personality and unique reactions.
Now, about high stakes. I am actually writing a post on a topic that relates really well with this right now— a post about tension. The reason why you may feel that, as a reader, your stakes don’t feel high enough isn’t because you aren’t gambling a lot in your narrative. It is because the tension and weight of that gamble hasn’t been fully developed or explored. If you want your readers to feel the designated effect of your writing, you have to build up the tension and invest them into the narrative so they themselves understand the impact and domino effect of the risk your characters are taking.
In order to build that tension, you must create an immersive scene in which readers can step into the character’s perspective and fully interact with the story being told. It should not feel like they are being told that they should worry. The scene itself should be crafted in such a way that worrisome elements set your reader on edge and build anxiety within them. THAT is how you up the stakes. Not by giving your character’s impossible situations, but by personalizing them and adding emotion and tension so the reader feels the impact of their choices and truly feels as though the consequences are threatening.
I’ll give you an example of how high stakes are built through tension.
I hurried into the story, short steps tripping over one another as the double doors pulled back for me to enter. Two burly guards stood by the entrance, donning a stern expression that governed the entire pharmacy. I shifted my eyes away from them when the taller of the two cast his gaze towards me.
I’m not doing anything wrong. I reassured myself, though the cold sweat on my back reeked otherwise.
The aisles were neverending, adding to the numbing urgency I was already drowning under. My poor baby was all alone at home. What if he began vomiting again? Would he be able to turn himself on his side? What if he choked?
Focus, Raven. Find the medication.
When I finally reached the aisle for pharmaceutical drugs, I scanned nook and corner for the drug the doctor had advised, trying to identify the long name against the brands I did not recognize. While my eyes scanned between the written slip and the bottles, I tried to avoid thinking about the bill for the doctor’s visit.
How much is this all going to cost?
I shook my head. It didn’t matter the cost. I’d work overtime if it meant my little boy’s fever would go away. I didn’t understand half the words the doctor had explained to me, but I knew if I didn’t bring home a bottle of medicine, things could seriously progress.
‘We do not want to neglect it before it progresses, Ms. Anderson. An infection like this can fester severely without immediate medical care. I strongly suggest taking him to the hospital.’
He had only given me the drug name as an alternative when I told him of my three jobs and stamps. And not a single source of insurance.
I heaved a breath of relief when I finally spotted the antibiotic. My blood went cold when I saw the price.
No, that can’t be right. I peered into the emptiness of my purse, drained away from the doctor’s visit. Why is it so expensive?
My chin began to tremble at the thought of leaving without the medicine. What would happen to my baby? I couldn’t afford the hospital. I couldn’t afford the medicine. But I couldn't afford to lose him either.
Hot tears lined my waterline when the thought occurred to me— I didn’t need to afford the medicine.
My gaze flickered towards the stoic guards, still standing at the entrance to intimidate every new customer that passed by. They weren’t looking my way. It would be as easy as slipping it under my chemise. It wasn’t like I was without experience.
A flash of memory reminded me of the last time I stole. My officer and lawyer in the room, their voices filling my head with threats. ‘There will be no second chances, you understand this Ms. Anderson?’ I told them I did.
The bottle was cold against the tremble of my fingers as I considered the risk. If I got away with it, my baby could get better. All the drugs he didn’t use, I could even sell for some extra cash for the bills. But if I didn’t…?
Prison. Foster care. His fever would get worse. Would they care? Better question—would they care as much as I did?
No. No one could.
With a sigh of resolution, I scouted for the officers once more, noticing the way their attention kept lingering back to me. Feigned browsing had me wandering the aisle, bottle still in hand, searching the shelves aimlessly while I waited for their focus to wither. When it finally did, I relaxed my posture and slipped the bottle up my sleeve.
Anyways, I’ll have a full post on writing tension hopefully by the end of this week. Until then, I hope this helps! Let me know how the story goes :)
Cheerios, and Happy Writing!
A Hard Lesson (Professor!Benedict Cumberbatch x OC)
Chapter 20/? (Next Chapter) (Chapter 1) (Chapter Masterlist)
Summary: mean history professor, horny student that wants to please him at all costs.
Tags: Smut, 18+, MINORS DNI, praise, authority, and degradation kink, daddy kink, oral sex, Professor!Tom Hiddleston x OC?
— Story Playlist (open for everyone to add songs 👀)
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please take the time to reblog the chapter or the masterlist ♥️♥️
Tom had given you his card on your way to the table, thanked your friends and left. As soon as he was far away enough, the two girls started rambling incessantly about what had happened. “What the actual fuck, Sofia. Oh my god, you could have been a little less obvious flirting with him like that!” Matilda shouted between giggles.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” you feigned confusion at her statement, sipping on your coffee.
“It is not like he was not enjoying it,” Mary butted in, shaking her head. “Isn’t he soo charming?”
“He truly is,” you responded, half lost in your thoughts. Was it wise to go? On the surface, things were wonderful at the moment. Why should you ruin the peace? The way Tom looked at you, though. He seemed like the solution to all your frustrations. You were too deeply set on Benedict, and that needed to change. It would only end up in heartbreak if you did not internalise that he did not want to date you. This lie over Tom’s invitation further pushed the point home.
“Sofia?” Mati called you back into the conversation. “So, are you coming tomorrow?”
“I don’t know yet. I have a lot to do for next week. Can I let you know tomorrow morning?” You gave them a convincing smile and went back to your mental dilemma. Maybe you should see Benedict after coffee, see if he mentioned the party or any plan with you. You would give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he had just simply forgotten to tell you. He may have planned something for the two of you to do.
You spent the next half an hour chatting with your friends, uninterested in the conversation and eager to see Benedict. Finally, Mati told you they needed to pick up some books for their research. You let them know you had some things to do in uni before going home and that hopefully, you’ll see them tomorrow.
You walked out of the cafe towards Benedict’s office, feeling hopeful that this would be nothing more than a misunderstanding. The walk up the stairs felt short as you walked through the now-familiar corridor. You knocked on his door softly, but no sound came from the other side. You decided to sit down in the chair outside of his office and text him, hopeful he would be back soon. Your message was sent, but it did not deliver, making you increasingly frustrated. You decided to wait outside for a bit, hoping he would answer. It was essential for you to solve this. You did not want to ruin everything showing up tonight.
You would give it 10 minutes and then would leave. The sound of steps coming your way made you hopeful; however, it was just a group of students. You huffed loudly, rolling your eyes, wondering where he could possibly be. “Sofia?” A familiarly unwelcomed voice spoke to you a couple of minutes later as you scrolled mindlessly through your phone. You lifted your gaze to meet the eyes of Camille. The fakest, most forced smile covered your lips as you greeted her.
“Hello Camille, how are you?” You responded, looking her up and down.
“I am alright. Is Ben not in his office?”
“I don’t think so. I knocked, but he does not seem to be here.” Your eyes moved to the door as you realised she was here to see him too.
“Oh, that is surprising. We have a lunch reservation in half an hour.” Ouch, you exhaled through your nose silently. Well, I guess he could be seen around with her.
“I am sure he will be here any minute.” You started to look around, hoping that he would miraculously appear in the hallway. The two of you stood there awkwardly as no intention to exchange further pleasantries transpired. Thankfully the sound of two other familiar voices filled the corridor soon enough. You turned towards the stairs and saw both Tom and Benedict walk in your direction. Camille’s eyes followed yours as she moved to your side to be seen as soon as you were. You smiled at Tom, happy to see him and then moved your eyes to Benedict, who looked at you confused.
“Ben! We should get going. It is a bit of a walk to the restaurant.” Camille spoke cheerfully as you rolled your eyes, looking at Tom. Benedict’s eyes looked for yours before moving to his PhD candidate.
“Camille, yes, of course. Miss Angel, did you want to ask me anything?” His eyes were soft, eager to explain something you did not want to hear.
“Oh, it’s okay. I will send you an email about it.” You looked away from him, feeling your throat dry out. Tom came between the two of you, alleviating the tension.
“I can help if it is not something too specific.” His words put a smile on your face instantly. Benedict looked at his friend severe, unsure of what was going on but sure that it was nothing good.
Camille cleared her throat, and Benedict responded obediently, walking away and giving you one last look. “I look forward to your email,” were his last words as you were left there standing with his best friend.
“So I will see you tonight then, Sofia.” The smirk on the lips of the tall man made your knees weak. He knew precisely how mad you were about this interaction, and he was not about to let your frustration go to waste. “Give me your number so I can send you my address. Feel free to come early; I would love to give you a house tour.” He passed you his phone.
“I will see you tonight, professor.” You spoke, saving your number in his contacts before walking away. Such a bitter, jealous thing, the girl that had never before even wanted to be in a relationship with someone. You walked towards the station, imagining how much your professor and Camille were having at lunch, feeling your blood boil.
Benedict sent you a message later that day, asking about your plans for the weekend. You had ignored it, too busy trying to choose what you would wear to the party.
Finding your way to Tom’s house had been an absolute mission. He lived in Richmond, far from any area of the city you were used to visiting alone. It was beautiful, super posh, and incredibly poorly connected compared to the centre of London. The walk from the bus stop to his house had you feeling self-conscious as a ridiculous number of expensive homes and cars filled the street. It was an 18-minute walk your feet were not prepared for. You held onto your pochette tightly as you walked as quickly as you could, trying not to think of the bruising pain of your heels.
Eventually, you found the beautiful house. It was big, understandably bigger than Ben’s in the city. You slowed your pace as soon as you spotted it, trying to have a last-minute assessment on whether this was, after all, a good decision. So very you to overthink everything than be emboldened (or blinded) by your feelings just to end up doubting yourself all over again. You exhaled, coming completely to a halt, “fuck.” What were you doing? Going to the house party of a stranger? Where you will not know anyone but one person who does not want you there.
What was even the point of coming? Bothering Benedict? When he had been nothing but lovely and transparent with you, doing his best to let it be clear where you stood. You were in the wrong. There was no question about it. He had every right to grab lunch with his PhD candidate, even if she was obviously trying to sleep with him. It was irrational for you to be jealous of a man that did not belong to you. You bit your lip and continued thinking…. Yet… yet you felt the need to do this. You felt the need to show up to this party and make him jealous. It was an impulse you could not ignore.
You wanted to see the shocked reaction as he saw you chatting with his friend across the room. You wanted him to be jealous, to tell you that his lunch had been awfully dull and that he looks forward to the day he can take you out. You want him to be jealous, to show up like he did last time and fuck you and tell you how much he regretted letting you go.
And if he didn’t, if he decided not to do any of that but be perfectly ambivalent after seeing you. You would enjoy a good party. You would drink for free, flirt with a man that was equally as attractive and drown your sorrows and feelings on the lips of his own best friend. Because although you could not be sure Benedict would do any of the things you hoped he would, you were sure Tom would not hesitate to fuck you.
You started walking again, feeling more confident yet nervous every inch closer to the door. As Tom had suggested, you had come early, 10 minutes before the party began. Your finger found the bell, and as soon as the loud noise came to a stop, the sound of steps coming your way substituted it.
“Hello there,” Tom opened the door and offered you the sweetest smile. Your nervousness seemed to melt right away as you smiled back. “Please come in!”
You entered the house shily, excited to see the beautiful home from the inside. Tom took your jacket and led you into the living room. The entrance was breathtaking, decorated by a long staircase and romantic dark wooden floors. Although dark outside, the house held a certain light that refracted onto the marble details of the entrance. The hallway led to a spacious living room, where a fireplace filled the house with the cosy smell of wood. Jazz music played in the background, and a table full of wine glasses and bottles sat in the middle of the room, surrounding a bouquet of Yellow Yiacinths.
You inhaled the smell of autumn before turning around to look at your host again. “Thank you for coming, would you like a glass of wine?” He spoke again, walking towards the centre table.
“Yes, please. A glass of red wine. Your house is so beautiful,” you opened up the conversation, looking down at his hands as he reached for a glass and the bottle. He smiled, following your eyes before looking at you, entertained by your bold behaviour.
“Thank you. It was empty for too long. I am happy to be back.” He passed you the wine glass, making sure his fingers would lightly brush against yours in the movement. You felt hyperaware of the sensation, holding your breath slightly at the contact.
The sound of paws on the wood broke the silence as a cute brown dog entered the room excitedly. You could not help but kneel as soon as you intercepted him, letting the biggest smile cover your lips. Tom ran his hand through his hair before lowering himself. “I am sorry, he was supposed to stay outside. I am not sure how he got in. His name is Bobby. I hope you don’t mind it.” He spoke out politely, knowing you did not, as you petted the dog contently, letting him lick your hand.
“It is no problem…” you answered, distracted by the cute dog, trying your best to give him all the love without letting him jump on your dress. Tom looked at you, amused, finally seeing what Benedict saw in you. The moment was interrupted by the sound of the front doorbell announcing the arrival of a guest.
You got up quickly, fixing the skirt of your dress and exchanging a quick look with Tom before he called Bobby his way, letting him outside through the adjacent kitchen. “Please let them in!” He spoke before disappearing behind the door. You opened your mouth, ready to protest, but nothing more than a silent gasp escaped it. The bell rang again, and you moved instinctively towards the door, unsure of what you would say to the guests.
You exhaled and opened it, putting a smile on your lips. A couple stood outside with a big smile and a bottle of wine at hand, “hello!”
“Hi, sorry, please come in. Tom is just dealing with Bobby for a second.” You blurted out, stepping away and letting them through, feeling your cheeks burn nervously. They gave each other a look and turned back to you, introducing themselves. Before you could reciprocate the courtesy as they walked in, Tom appeared by your side, giving you a thankful look “this is Sofia,” he announced before mouthing a thank you.
“A pleasure to meet you, Sofia,” the woman spoke before moving to hug Tom, “we are so happy to see you. We have missed you.”
You walked to the living room as Tom’s friends asked about his travels. You listened attentively as the professor talked about his adventures abroad. The conversation, however, was short-lived as he excused himself as soon as the bell rang again. You felt slightly uneasy as the room slowly started to fill with people you did not know. Professor Hiddleston found you soon enough, placing his hand on your lower back and whispering to your ear, “are you alright?” The feeling of his lips so close to your skin sending a shiver down your back.
“Yes,” you gave him a reassuring smile, “thank you for inviting me.”
“Ben will be here soon. He texted me, letting me know he was on his way.” A cheeky smile graced his lips before moving away from you, removing his hand from your body. “Don’t be too harsh on him. He likes you, and I know he will be relieved to have you here after the initial shock.” He chuckled softly before walking away, moving to talk to his next guest.
You pressed your lips together, feeling a new anxious feeling grow in your chest as you remembered your initial reservations about coming here. It was okay; it would be alright. No matter what Benedict said or did, everything would be okay.
The night continued, and you spent most of your time chatting with Tom and some of his friends. Everyone was kind, and although you tried to keep the information about yourself vague and concise, people could not help but ask about your “career”. Tom was always able to intercept the questions, asking everyone politely to not talk about work during such a lovely night before offering to refill their wine glasses. You exchanged soft smiles as you let go of the tight hold on your bag, relaxing again and rejoining the conversation.
You attended the door a couple of times, introducing yourself to Tom’s friends and letting them know where he was. There were looks exchanged between them and whispers as they walked away, but you paid little mind to them, feeling comfortable helping your friend.
The doorbell rang again, and you instinctively approached it, opening as you looked back looking for Tom before looking back to the open door, smiling. “Hi! Tom is-” your eyes met Ben, and you froze mid-sentence as he looked at you with a blank expression. You stared at each other for a couple of seconds as you both looked for something to say.
Eventually, a tap on your shoulders broke the silence, “Hey Ben! Come in!” Tom spoke for you, encouraging you to step aside. You did, letting your professor enter. He had a fulminating expression as his eyes saw Tom’s fingers on your shoulder.
“Hi Tom, Hello Sofia. What is going on here?” He asked as his eyes shifted from you to his best friend’s face.
“Oh, I must have forgotten to tell you. After all, it seems that Sofia was not busy. Her plans must have fallen through” Tom gave you a quick look as the tension between the two men grew thicker.
“Right.” Benedict lowered his gaze as he realised he had been caught in a lie.
“Well, please, let’s get you a glass of wine or whisky!” Tom spoke cheerfully, walking back towards the party. You walked quickly behind him, not looking forward to being left alone with Benedict, who strolled behind the two of you.
As soon as Benedict entered the room, multiple people approached him to greet him, giving you just enough time to join a different conversation. You found Tom, speaking with the couple that had arrived first, and you joined the chat, hoping to avoid Benedict for as long as possible. The couple had been together for a long time and had recently welcomed their second baby. The woman let you know how difficult the first weeks had been with two small children. “I cannot imagine how difficult it must be. You must be so patient.” You complimented her, wondering how awful the lack of sleep must be.
“Oh absolutely,” Tom echoed your concern before Benedict approached the four of you, joining the conversation. The three greeted each other before returning to the group.
“But if I may be a little nosy. You look very young, Sofia. How long have you and Tom been dating? Because you may soon have to deal with the same long nights.” A heartily laugh escaped Tom’s lips as your eyes looked immediately for Benedict, who had tightened his jaw and closed his eyes.
“Oh, Tom… and I-” you started to formulate the sentence, feeling your cheeks burn as Tom would not stop chuckling. A tiny smile covered your lips, fault of a mix of embarrassment and amusement from the situation.
“She is dating me, not Tom,” Benedict spoke over you in a severe and empty tone. Tom’s laugh came to a quick halt as the woman in front of you started to apologise and explain herself profusely. “Oh, I am so sorry, I assumed given… given that she was here earlier and you seem close. I am very sorry, Benedict. I truly did not know.”
“Don’t worry about it! I would have assumed the same, given the circumstance. I came a little early to help Tom, but Ben could not join me.” A confident smile graced your lips as your eyes evaded Benedict’s. You emphasised the “Ben” in your sentence, entertained by the exchange.
Tom looked at Ben, giggling under his breath. “I am more than happy to steal her, though,” he added, winking your way and causing the couple to laugh loudly. Benedict did not join them, looking at you seriously. The conversation moved to the next topic, and you excused yourself, walking to the kitchen to grab some water.
You looked for regular glasses in the cabinets, slightly lost in the big kitchen, when Benedict’s voice interrupted you. “They are on the top shelf, above the sink.” You turned around and gave him a tight lip smile before serving yourself some water, awkwardly waiting for him to speak again. “You seem to find great enjoyment in surprising me at events I don’t expect to see you at.” You ignored the comment, trying to walk past him into the living room, but he stood before you, blocking your way. “I told him you were busy because I thought it was not wise to be seen by so many people together.”
“So it is wiser to tell people we are dating now that I am here?” Your stare was fulminating, unwilling to understand where he was coming from.
“Did you prefer them to think you are dating Tom?” He matched your tone, looking down at you.
“I could have just told the truth. I am not dating anyone.” The words were bitter and cold cutting. He swallowed loudly, you were right, and he knew it. He had set the boundary and was now trying to break it to fend for his ego. “You just lied to them, and now that puts us in much more danger than the truth would have. You cannot have it both ways. You don’t get to be jealous and impulsive after telling me we are not dating.”
Benedict’s eyes darkened as he lowered his face towards yours to whisper to your ear. “Is that what you want? For me to tell you that we are dating? When I cannot give you any of the things I would if we were truly dating? Is the bar so low that me fucking you and getting you breakfast is enough for you to accept to date me?” he cleared his throat as his hand found your hip gripping it possessively, moving you closer to him. “You are right. I should not have said we were dating. You, however, Sofia, need to raise your standards. I should be begging to call you mine, not the other way around. I should be counting the minutes to your graduation to take you everywhere you want, to buy you whatever you want.”
You held your breath as he spoke, closing your eyes and trying your best to keep the soft sigh that was ready to escape your lips. A sudden flush of warmth spread through your cheeks and chest as each word sounded more demeaning than the previous. “Pathetic little girl. You need to understand that I am dying to date you. I am dying to give you all you deserve. So stop begging for my attention with your defying attitude and understand that I want you. Stop confusing my caution with ambivalence.” He let go of you, and you finally exhaled, feeling slightly feverish and dizzy as nothing but dirty thoughts crossed your mind. “Now, let’s join the rest before the temptation of your little white dress forces me to fuck you in Tom’s bathroom.” He closed his eyes for a second before looking down at you again as if you were nothing more than a toy. “Wouldn’t you like it to have to hold in your moans as I fucked you senseless? Afraid anyone can hear how much of a little slut you really are? Walk now.”
Longer chapter 👀👀 because I am so looking forward to the next one. I am so sorry if I have not included a sex scene in the last couple of chapters, hope the story is still enjoyable. Excited to see what you all think. Sending you all my love!
please take the time to reblog the chapter or the masterlist ♥️♥️
@inas-thing @graciebear47 @freakyat3am @missfalcon
crunchyroll & rail
the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !
SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket.
WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not…
MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality,
RATING m (18+)
NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….
Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast.
Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.
In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office.
To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5.
He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”
Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses.
Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful.
You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.”
Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.”
“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.”
It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking.
You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever.
And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours.
Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together.
(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.)
Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be.
You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you.
Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber.
Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend.
The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary.
You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days.
But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.
(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.)
The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like.
According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites.
You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?”
You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.”
You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind.
Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”
For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into.
“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway.
He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin.
“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear.
“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass.
You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you.
The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.
The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak.
Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead.
And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat.
Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts.
They go like this:
Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really.
“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively.
In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once.
“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you.
It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome.
Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve.
The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek.
His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts.
“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.”
He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles.
The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild.
“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums.
“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again.
But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning.
Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.”
Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“
“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment.
“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“
“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him.
His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned.
There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.”
Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.”
Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.”
A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.”
You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“—
The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear.
“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.
Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer.
Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”
He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”
“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”
It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole.
“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.
Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips.
“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise.
He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath.
Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.
“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes.
It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue.
It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger. “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…”
You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?”
He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles.
“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over.
Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”
The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.
It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more.
Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them.
You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub.
Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor.
Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face.
In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention.
Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?
“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock.
“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand.
His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane.
It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh.
Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be.
You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds.
With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter.
You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic.
“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock.
He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you.
Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip.
You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl.
It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”
You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully.
Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?
Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.
“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.
Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”
“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin.
Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said.
It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away.
Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself.
“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“
“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself.
You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you.
He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”
Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”
You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once.
“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.
He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth.
“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets.
True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever.
You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries.
It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”
“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you.
Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”
Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question.
That’s how you know he’s a keeper.
It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest.
“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”
Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”
You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”
A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.
You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.
Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”
Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.
Preparing for Conventions
What events are best to go to?
Whether it’s a huge celebrity-studded multi-day weekend or a small gathering at a local library, in-person events are an exciting way to reach all kinds of comic fans that may not be in any of your circles online. There’s opportunities to be had at almost every type of event, but a few things that might narrow your focus:
Events that don’t cost more than you think you can make. Convention costs can add up extremely quickly. You can expect to pay at least $100/day for an artist table at mid-sized or large conventions. If you’re just starting out, prioritize conventions that are close enough to your home (or friends/family who will host you) that you won’t have to pay for a hotel or spend a lot in transportation costs. Splitting the table with another artist is another option!
Events that other artists in your area/genre recommend. A great way to learn about events in your area is to attend one and ask others what conventions they like in the area. Some regular artists even maintain online groups to discuss application deadlines and share experiences. Depending on the genre of your art or comic, you might also find adjacent things like horror shows, anime shows, or zine fests worth exploring too!
Events that you can actually get into. Conventions can be very competitive to get into, and have very small application windows months in advance. Once you’ve identified which conventions are in your area, follow their Twitter, mailing lists or websites to catch their sign up deadlines. Juried shows may also ask for a link to your portfolio, author bio or store to get an idea of who you are and what you’d be selling, so be sure to put something together and be ready!
What kinds of products should I prepare?
Our Masterlist of Printers is a great place to start for recommendations about places to make your products and inspiration! But to cut down on costs and keep yourself flexible while you figure things out, it’s a good idea to focus on:
Products that suit a specific style and taste. Do you make big intricate illustrations that would look good as 11x17 printed art? Are you good with quippy one-liners that would make fun stickers? Is there a popular fandom that you like that has a similar genre to your other work? Popular products are prints, stickers, charms, pins, and comics. But don’t be afraid to handcraft figures or something else.
Products that work together. Be deliberate about the vibe you’re setting, whether that’s a genre (horror, humor, superheroes, etc.), an age range (all ages, adult), a specific type of product (mostly t-shirts, mostly prints, accessories), a theme (eg, all things coffee!). There’s a lot of approaches to making a cohesive product line and organizing your table to keep like things together, but having cute plushies AND saucy pinups AND anime figurines AND coffee mugs can be confusing to customers who are trying to figure out what your table is all about.
Products with low price points that won’t be too expensive to make. Products priced $15 or lower are generally an easy buy for new customers, and offering a range of small inexpensive things is great for folks who are on a budget but still want to support you. When you’re just starting, look for things that don’t require a high amount of money to produce for you or can print in low quantities with a printer. Printed-at-home or handcrafted things are also possibilities for a more zine-style table presence and can save you a little money.
Products with a low minimum order quantity. Try not to order more than 10 or so copies of any one thing (especially anything that a stranger wouldn’t recognize like OC) until you’re confident it will sell. You can always order more after the show if you run out. If you DO have leftover stock (and 99% of the time you will), you definitely can sell it at a future convention, a crowdfunding campaign, include it as Patreon rewards, or list it in an online store. But being stuck with a closet full of 500 postcard prints that you can’t sell is not a fun time, even if you DID get a bulk discount.
Products that have a general appeal. Even if you have a massive social media following, 99% of your customers will have never heard of your comic or your original characters. Comic enthusiasts will often be open to giving a new story from a local artist a chance if you chat them up a little and tell them about it. But also having general interest products (animals, fanart, nerd humor, mythology) on the table that don’t require as much explanation to enjoy is a very good idea.
What do I need other than merch?
A good convention setup looks clean, organized, and easy to engage with. Once you’re accepted, look carefully at the details of the convention and what’s included with your space. Many conventions will give you a table and chair, but you’ll probably also need:
Backdrop - Backdrops display your best art and help people see it from across a crowded room, and partition your space if you’re very close to other tables. A photo backdrop stand with a bunch of 11x17/A3 prints taped together that you’re selling, a wire cube grid construction you can set on your table and stick smaller merch pieces to, or a professionally-printed banner with your name, URL/social handle, and your best art and are all solid options for this.
Where to get them: Google “photo backdrop” or look for photography supply stores. Google “wire cube grids” or look around hardware stores or Walmart/Target. For banners, you can find printers that can make retractable banners or vinyl banners to hang from a photo backdrop.
8-foot Tablecloth - Many conventions assign you a very weathered 6-foot table, so always plan on having something to cover it (optionally for multi-day shows, a second to cover your setup for security purposes when you leave your table.)
Where to get them: Fabric stores, bedsheets, party stores.
Displays - Flat items on a table are invisible to anyone who isn’t directly in front of you, so look for a way to make your stuff stand up and be seen! Easel stands to highlight featured books or art, cork boards and pins you can prop up, boxes or porfolio books to flip through, wire/wooden racks to hold lots of books are all great ideas to consider, depending on your products.
Where to get them: For heavy-duty stuff, you’ll probably want to Google around order displays online. Art supply stores will often have easels and portfolios. If you don’t want to spend a lot of money yet, dollar stores can be a gold mine of quick solutions too!
Price Signage - Having clear pricing on your table helps people decide what to buy without having to ask you about every product. Print your own signs at home, bring colorful post-its, or some stiff paper, markers, and tape. You can also use a white board or chalk board to make a “menu” style price list.
Where to get them: Office supply stores, Target/Walmart.
The ability to take money from people - A secure place that’s accessible to you to keep money for making change. Cashbox theft can unfortunately be an issue sometimes, so wearable pouches or discreet envelopes that don’t immediately look like money are better in this context. If you have a cellphone or tablet, you can also get an app where you can list your products and connect an attachment to swipe or tap credit cards for a small fee. (Note wi-fi and power are not dependable in many venues, so be sure to have a charger and a good data plan for your phone)
Where to get them: For cash, go to your bank in person and ask for $50-$100 in 1s and 5s. For credit card payments, Square, Paypal, and SumUp all have apps that you can put on a phone or tablet and have attachments to swipe or tap credit cards.
Business cards - Customers will often want to follow you on social media, read your comic, or shop online after the show, so be sure to have lots of business cards! Use your most memorable art so they’ll be able to remember where they got it from! If you’re looking to offer commissions or talk to agents/comic professionals, you might also include your email address, but otherwise leave it off.
Where to get them: Many printers offer business cards for cheap. In a pinch, you can also print your own at home or have one sign with your info and ask people to take a picture.
What to Expect
Lots of talking! You don’t have to have a carnival sideshow “step right up” persona, but be ready to give a friendly hello to folks who look interested in your work, and confidently answer questions about all of your products when asked. If you have a comic, practice a quick elevator pitch to explain it.
Not many breaks! While you can technically step away from your table whenever you want (if you’re alone, you can usually ask a neighboring table to watch your stuff for you), every hour you spend away from your table getting food or going to see cool panels are sales opportunities missed. Keep snacks and water at your table to minimize your time away, look for slow traffic times to step away and explore a bit, or bring a friend who can watch your table and sell things for you if you need longer breaks to recharge.
People who have never read a comic on the internet! For those of us who live and breathe our webcomics, this can come as a shock, but many people are still only readers of printed comics and will want to buy your physical book rather than read it free on the internet or buy a digital copy. Even if it’s just a small chapter book, having a print version is a great idea to get readers!
Fun and profit! This can also be surprising if you only have experience with online stores, but people come to convention floors with very open wallets. Things that don’t sell at all online can do gangbusters at conventions when presented right! Experiment with your setup to highlight your favorite things, take careful records of what attracts peoples’ attention and what sells, and keep notes for the next day and next convention, and have fun learning about this new market!
Eddie Munson x OC
Chapter 1 - Rebel Rebel
Summary: Lucas’ turn to the dark side puts Dustin and Mike in a difficult situation. Too afraid to go straight to the feared leader of Hellfire Club, they approach his unlikely consigliere - a small but mighty Scotswoman - with a plea for help.
Notes: A first shot at an OC fanfiction in a really long time (my tumblr is frozen in like, 2017). As a D&D player, this season of Stranger Things is definitely my favourite and I just couldn’t let it be. I’m gonna try to be more vague about Mairi’s features in future chapter to make it more enjoyable for folks who like reader-inserts❤️enjoy!
“…there she is.” Mike softly whispered to Dustin, who responded with a big sigh.
He pointed towards a small figure with a dark ginger mess instead of hair currently burried in the locker. She sported a Hellfire t-shirt under a denim jacket, slightly ragged black jeans and worn out dirty Docs. A jock walked by and purposely bumped into her with a chuckle, to which she reacted by sticking her head out of the locker and giving him the finger while muttering something about wankers. Then she got back to rummaging in her locker. Dustin winced at the scene.
“Shit, that’s not a good sign. Are you sure you wanna do this?” Mike shrugged.
“I mean, do we have a choice? She has a better chance to get to Eddie without too much consequence. Let’s just try it.” he said, not too convinced about his plan.
“Ugh, screw it.” Dustin muttered and they both set off towards the girl.
Mike cautiously knocked on the door of her locker and she peeked out, her face turning from a focused scowl to a wide smile.
“Well well well, if it isn’t my dearest rookies!” she said, her voice laced with an out-of-place Glaswegian accent.
She then pinched Dustin’s cheek, his face turning slightly red at the affectionate gesture from the senior.
“Hi!” they both exclaimed way too quickly and nervously. She narrowed her eyes a bit.
“What’s up?” she asked, dissapearing behind the door again to take some books and a half eaten bag of salted pretzels out of the locker.
Mike and Dustin gave eachother a nervous look and the shorter boy gave his lanky friend a nudge with his shoulder. Mike closed his eyes for a few seconds and then started.
“Well, you know…Lucas…has his basketball game tonight…”
Her response was a low hum, her blank expression hidden to them by the small metal door.
“And, well, we thought that maybe…you could ask Eddie…to postpone tonight’s session?” Mike nearly whispered the last part.
Then silence. Then a bang of the locker door closing, revealing her pale freckled face and eyes lined with black eyeliner and dark circles, eyebrows inquiringly raised as far as they could go.
“Postpone…the last session…of the Cult…of Vecna? Am I getting that right?” she asked, each part of the sentence punctuated by a tap on the door.
Both boys gave eachother an embarrassed look and doubtfully nodded, suddenly finding the cold floor of the Hawkins High’s hallway very interesting.
“And you want me,” she pointed to her chest, “…to ask Eddie for you…again?” she tilted her head to the left and threw a pretzel in her mouth. Mike and Dustin finally looked at her, their expressions turning from fear to despair.
“I knooow, we’re just…you know how he is, Maia.” Dustin whined and slumped his shoulder. She frowned.
“Exactly, so why do you want me to take the collateral damage? Again, may I add?” she raised an eyebrow. Mike shrugged.
“He just takes the bad news better from you. Please, we beg you.”
Maia sighed and walked around them, putting her arms around their shoulders, tilting the pretzel bag, causing few of them to fall to the hallway floor.
“You know boys, ever since you came here and stumbled through these hallways like lost Bambis,” she smiled softly, “I just felt the motherly urge to protect you, you know.” she paused with a wide smile, making them both giggle with relief.
Her face immediately fell into a stoic serious expression though. “But I am not your mother.” Their smiles slowly faded.
Maia shoved them a bit, walking them through the hallway with her hands firmly squeezing their shoulders. Despite her being shorter than both of them, they were clearly terrified to hear her next words.
“And in every young man’s life there comes a moment, when they turn from boys into men,” she swiftly waved her palm into the distance, their gazes following it. “…and tell Eddie Munson what they have to say without me holding their hands.” she side eyed them while they were still looking into the distance, gulping. She then turned them around to face her, her hands still planted to their shoulders.
“So go out there, become men and ask Eddie your-fucking-selves.”
She ended the sentence with turning them around again and shoving their backs towards the middle of the hallway. They turned their defeated faces back at her.
“See you at lunch!” she loudly whispered, giving them thumbs up and dissapearing in the crowd. Mike and Dustin both let out a big sigh.
“Well, that was a success.” Mike folded his arms. Dustin rolled his eyes.
“SHIT!” he yelled into the hallway, catching the attention of a few confused teens as the boys walked towards their class, defeated.
Hello author-san^^♡!! This is my first time requesting and I read all your Op posts and I think they're absolutely adorable♡!! Can I request more Whitebeard pirates content (especially when you add memes cause they make my day) 😊!! It's okay if you don't want to 😊👍 That's all for now, byeee~ [Btw I love your Oc smmm!!]
Aweee(^o^)💙 Thank you so much anon if you like my oc💙
For You I will write more content about Whitebeard Pirate
Hoped you liked it
Whitebeard Pirates when you went to Labor
Warning: Whitebeard Pirates panicking, Slight Cursing, Fluff in thr end
Feat: Thatch, Ace, Marco, Izo, Jozu, And Vista
-Like the Meme above Thatch will make a face like that from the Moment you let out “labor” Word from your mouth
-The Whole Crew especially your Husband will Immediately panic when you started to let out a horrifying scream from the Pain you felt
-Thatch will scream around looking for some Doctor “Where is the fucking Doctor?!!!” He will scream like this and Marco? Hah! He's panicking too and doesn't realising that he's the doctor that Everyone's looking for
-After you gave birth the Whole Crew was in awe.. They will adored and loved your child and they will never let anyone hurt them
Marco the Phoenix
-Even though Marco always shows everyone of how calm he was in every Situation then your Labor was a Different situation for him
-so He's panicking along the others when you started your labor
-Marco will look for Doctor to help you out cuz' he forgot that he's doctor that he's looking for so
-And After some time After You shout at him he'll eventually grt back to his senses and help you out to deliver the baby
Portgast D. Ace
-Like the Meme above Cry now Smile later for Ace
-Ace may even collapse when you started to feel some painful contraction into your Belly
-He'll rush to Marco's office and tells him that you're in Labor
-Marco will come to you and tell Ace to take to your Shared Bedroom to deliver the baby
-and While you're giving birth the People outside the room including Pops were devastated because they're worried about you
-after a long waiting Ace will Burst outside and happily announce that you successfully delivered the Baby and the whole Ship held a big celebration for both of you and to your Baby
-Izo will scream asking for some Doctor to help you out
-will crying inside when you started to feel pain but he will cheer you up and tells you that everything is gonna be alright
-He'll be with you until the end and he will give his best to give some support
-after you gave birth Izo will out a few happy tears pressing a firm kiss into your Forehead tell how you did a good job
-Hard Outside but soft inside
-He'll cry for you during the contraction. Jozu will also rub your belly trying to sooth the pain you were feeling that time
-he will never leave by your side until you successfully delivered the baby
-He's dramatic as f
-Vista will Come at you and take you to Marco to help you out to deliver the baby
-Like the other he'll never leave by your side until you're safe along with the baby in his hands
-He will also cheer you up and try to hive you some confidence that you can do it
-Vista was very Nervous he just doesn't wantes to admit it out because he doesn't wanted you grt worried
-After you gave birth Vista will always holding your baby in his arms safe in sound
The Extra || Austin Butler x OC
Pairing: Austin Butler x OC
Warnings: mentions of past innuendo, mentions of sex, anxiety, mentions of physical sickness, description of an anxiety attack, mentions of possible pregnancy
Word Count: 3292
>> hiii here's chapter nine! this chapter is sort of a filler but also gives the characters a little bit of a reality check. some of you may have noticed I added the option to tip on my page. you aren't obligated to tip, and you aren't required to tip in order to request. it's just there as an option if anyone is feeling generous. I'm a college student that lives on every cent of my paycheck so even if you think I deserve 25 cents, it's appreciated. I hope you enjoy this chapter!! also thank you for 2k reads on wattpad <3
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Add yourself to the taglist HERE
“Are you doing anything for your birthday this year or just laying low?”
“Probably can’t do anything for it. So I’ll just stay in, most likely.”
My phone is tucked between my shoulder and ear as I work on cleaning the kitchen. I’m talking to Luke about his birthday in a few weeks, but things are still pretty bleak in the world. It doesn’t seem likely there will be an exciting party or anything of the sort.
“We could all stream a movie and get drunk together on Zoom,” I suggest half-jokingly. But it seems like the only way the whole group can be together for now.
“Not that bad of an idea, Roman. We’ll have to see,” Luke says before pausing for a moment, “How are things with you and Austin?”
“Not too bad,” I say, hesitant to open up too much about Austin and I’s relationship for now, “We’re both still alive, if that says anything.”
Luke chuckles, “You two need to let out your frustration.”
“And how would we do that, Lucas?” I ask in a warning tone, laughter at the edge of my voice.
“Oh, come on. You can’t sit here and tell me you haven’t thought of Austin that way.”
I sigh, shaking my head as my eye catches the calendar by the refrigerator. I have today circled because I need to make an appointment for my birth control refill. Before I can respond to Luke, my whole body freezes. Wait. Birth control. When was I supposed to have my period? My eyes widen in horror as I scramble over to the calendar. I looked for the last day I drew an asterisk to mark when I started my last one. It’s been 6 weeks. I’m two weeks late.
“Hey, can I call you back later? Something just came up that I need to check on,” I bite my lip, trying not to panic.
“Yeah, but you aren’t off the hook yet. I still want to know how you feel about the guy,” Luke jokes and then hangs up.
Oh, if he only knew.
I can feel a cold sweat forming on my brow. As much as I hated to, I needed to go to the pharmacy down the block and buy some tests. Just in case. Austin is in his room studying Elvis as per usual. I hurriedly sneak into the guest room where my belongings are and search for my wallet. Once I find it, I turn around, and I’m met with Austin leaning against the doorframe. So much for my careful sneaking.
“Do you mind running to the store? We’re out of toilet paper,” Austin asks, cringing a little because he knows how much I despise going out.
“Way ahead of you,” I say, waving my wallet with a nervous smile.
“Hey,” Austin grabs me by the waist as I try to walk past him, pulling me to his body.
He pulls me into a casual kiss with his hand on the back of my head.
“Be careful, okay?” Austin pulls away from the kiss, pushing my hair back from my face with his fingers.
I nod, unable to look him in the eyes right now, afraid he’ll see through me. I grab a disposable mask before heading out the door and into the warm Autumn air. Adjusting to the flipped seasons here has been weird, especially during a pandemic when you aren’t even sure of what day it is. That’s one reason I haven’t been keeping track of my period like I’m supposed to. Especially after Austin and I’s encounter, I really should have been paying more attention. Luckily, there’s no one in the pharmacy, and I hurry in and out with three tests, toilet paper, and condoms for good measure. The streets are still empty as they were when I walked to the pharmacy. The weather is bleak, but the clouds will probably evaporate as quickly as they came up. It’s almost apocalyptic outside, and if I’m honest, I don’t know if I’d want to have a child right now if I could. The world is in shambles, and it’s dangerous to leave your house to even get toilet paper. I sigh to myself, and a part of me hopes I’m just being overly cautious about missing my period.
When I arrive back at the condo, Austin is holed up in his room again, much to my relief. I put away the toilet paper and stashed the condoms with my stuff to move later. I tiptoe to the bathroom in the hall and shut and lock the door. I carefully read the first test's instructions several times to ensure I’m doing it correctly. I opened all of them in preparation and started using the tests individually. The first one is negative, but I don’t relax yet. The second one is also negative, so the last one will likely be too. The third one takes a little longer to process than the first two, but when it does, many emotions hit me at once. Anxiety? Joy maybe? Fear? Plausible. The second line is faint but still there. The third and final test is positive.
A wave of nausea comes over me; am I really pregnant? Now of all times? I want to be happy, but I just can’t be. Austin and I are just getting back together, his career is at its peak, and I have to play an important role where someone is not pregnant. I cannot properly process how I feel right now, causing my breathing to quicken. I can usually stop my panic attacks, but right now, I feel out of control of my body in every way. What the hell am I supposed to do?
I slide into the floor and off the toilet lid, wrapping my arms around my legs as I pull them into my chest. This can’t be happening. I fumble for my phone and immediately call Dacre. I told him everything, and this wouldn’t be any different. He doesn’t tell anyone else my business, and I can trust him with this. He’ll know what to do.
“Hey Roman, what’s up?”
“Dacre,” I pant, my breathing becoming more labored as each minute passes, “Help.”
“Hey, take easy breaths,” Dacre says softly, “What can you see?”
“The toilet, the sink, and the shower door.”
“What can you feel?” Dacre continues trying to ground me.
“The cold floor, the hard wall, and sweat. I feel sweaty.”
“What can you hear?”
“I can hear you,” I pause, straining my ears to hear anything else outside of the bathroom, “I hear Austin vocalizing. Oh god, Austin. How do I tell him?”
“Tell him what, Ro? What’s got you so freaked out? Is everything okay?” Dacre asks, sounding very worried.
“I think,” I say, listening to make sure Austin is still in his room down the hall, “I think I’m pregnant,” I whisper.
“What? Did I hear you right?” Dacre gasps.
“Yes. I realized I hadn’t had my period for a few weeks, so I bought some tests,” I murmur, “One of them was positive.”
“Alright, stay calm. Don’t jump to conclusions yet. Call your doctor and see if they can test you there to make completely sure,” Dacre says, “And please tell Austin. He needs to know.”
“I don’t want to upset him or give him false hope if he does want a child and there isn’t one,” I cover my face with my free hand, “I don’t know what to do.”
“If you don’t tell him and he finds out, how do you think he’s gonna feel?”
I sigh in defeat, “You’re right. I’m just really frazzled right now, and I’m not sure if I should wait until before or after the appointment.”
“I’d go ahead and talk to him so you can have moral support. They probably won’t allow him to go back with you because of the virus, but at least he’ll be there.”
“True. Thank you, Dacre,” I run a hand through my hair as my breathing evens out completely.
“It’s no problem. If you need anything else, just call or text,” Dacre says.
“I definitely will,” I say before hanging up.
I decide I’m going to tell Austin after dinner so I have time to figure out what I’m going to say. The evening was relatively uneventful- I had to force myself to eat my food because of the overwhelming anxiety I was feeling. I busy myself with the dishes after Austin and I finish eating so I can put my nervous energy into something. I thought cooking a meal would eliminate some of it, but it didn’t help much. I’m wiping off the counters and putting leftovers away when Austin comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.
“Hi,” he whispers in my ear, trailing his lips down my neck.
“Hey,” I responded as I shut the fridge door.
“Thank you for dinner,” Austin continued, kissing my neck, nipping at the skin a little.
“You’re welcome, babe,” I giggle, his stubble tickling me.
“It was delicious, but,” Austin stops kissing me and puts his lips right to my ear, “I think you’re more delicious.”
A blush creeps up on my cheeks as I turn around and cause Austin to break away from me.
“Before you go any further with that in mind, I actually need to talk to you about something,” I say, my face becoming serious.
Austin immediately picks up on it and focuses on me, “What’s wrong?”
“Can we sit down?” I ask, sliding onto the barstool at the island.
Austin sits next to me, and I reach out for his hands, holding onto them tightly.
“I have to tell you something, and I don’t want you to get too ahead of yourself when you hear it, okay?” I looked into Austin’s eyes, making sure he hung onto every word.
“Okay,” he nods.
“I realized today that I’m late for my period,” I sigh, “And when I was at the pharmacy earlier, I got a few tests. One of them was positive,” I bite my lip nervously.
Austin opens his mouth to speak, but I interrupt him, “But I don’t want to assume anything yet. I called and made an appointment with my doctor to check.”
“You could be pregnant?” Austin asks gently, and I nod, a bubble of fear rising in my throat.
He looks down at our hands for a moment, “I mean, I’ve always wanted a kid at some point. But right now, I don’t know.”
“I know. I understand that completely because I also want a child, but right now? With our careers and the state of the world? It doesn’t seem like a good time.” I frown, “But we can figure out our options if there is something cooking in there.”
Austin laughs at that, his eyes still boring into our hands. Eventually, he looks back into my eyes, “I’m sorry I didn’t really think it through that day we had sex. I should’ve been more careful.”
“It’s okay. That’s the past, and we can’t really change it. But this is our future, and we might have a say in it, and we might not. We’ll have to see,” I say, feeling a little more optimistic about the situation.
If I am pregnant, I have a few things to decide on, but Austin is going to also have a say in it because we’re a team in this. I know it’s my body, but I can’t go through this alone, and I don’t want to. But I know that with him I won’t have to worry. We’ve been through too much to let something like this disrupt our progress.
“Is it okay if I come with you to the appointment?” Austin asks.
“Of course, babe. They said if I did bring you, you’d have to stay in the waiting area, though. If anything shows up on the ultrasound, the doctor will give me the footage, so I can show it to you,” I smile, bringing Austin’s hands up to my lips.
“Do you know what you want to do if you are pregnant?” Austin asks quietly, his voice unsure.
“It’s still very early on, so,” I shrug, “But that’s also a decision you have to make too.”
“It’s your body, Ro. If you don’t want this, whether it’s personally or professionally, it’s up to you.”
“Yeah, but you helped possibly put the bun in the oven,” I smile cheekily.
“True. Still, take some time to think about it. I won’t be upset if you don’t feel like talking for a while,” Austin says, pulling one of his hands from mine to tuck hair behind my ear.
It is now Monday morning, and when I wake up, I immediately run to the ensuite bathroom from a curdling in my stomach. My knees hit the floor hard when I land, but I make it to the toilet just in time. Austin must’ve felt me get up from bed because he has rushed to my side and is rubbing my back. I sit back up and rest my body against the shower door, pressing my face against the cool glass as I catch my breath. I keep telling myself it might not be morning sickness but rather another bout of anxiety.
“Are you okay, Ro? Do you need a glass of water or anything?” Austin asks, his voice still raspy from sleep.
“I’m okay. I’ll get up soon, just give me a second,” I mutter, my face not leaving the glass.
“You can still sleep for another hour before we have to start getting ready to go to the appointment,” Austin says before standing up.
“It’ll be okay,” I shrug, taking the hand he offers to me and letting him pull me up, “I’m too awake now.”
Although a little groggy, I eventually got dressed and ready for the appointment. When we get to the doctor��s office, the nerves kick in again, and I have to repress the feeling of sickness. The entire time I sit and wait, I grip Austin’s hand to ground myself. I have to focus all my energy on not becoming physically sick. I feel even more anxious when the nurse calls me back, and Austin can’t come with me. The nurse takes my vitals and weight and then guides me to a room. She shuts the door, and I'm entirely alone for the first time in over a month. For some reason, it eases my anxiety knowing I’m not sharing a space, albeit a tiny one, with anyone for a few minutes. I’m constantly sharing a space with Austin, which I don’t mind anymore, but lately I’ve missed being alone. After our breakup, being alone was very difficult, and I was always out of the house when I wasn’t working. But now that there’s a global pandemic, I can’t leave the condo to do anything except getting essentials. My thoughts are interrupted when there’s a brief knock on the door.
“Good morning, Ms. Todd. I’m Dr. Ken,” a tall, older man in a white coat comes through the door, “How are you feeling today?”
“A little anxious, to be honest. But other than that, everything is fine,” I smile coyly.
Dr. Ken flips through the clipboard he brought with him, reading through my information, “It says here that you need a uterine ultrasound, correct?”
I nod, “I took a few tests at home, but I just want to be sure.”
“When was your last period?”
“Six weeks ago,” I bit my lip, feeling nervous again.
“Okay. We’ll get you to another room in a second. Can you take a deep breath for me?” Dr. Ken began his exam on me, making sure everything the nurse didn’t check came back normal.
The doctor leaves the room and has a nurse bring me to the room where they perform ultrasounds. The technician instructed me to strip below the waist and cover myself with a white sheet and that she’d be back in a moment. I lay down on the exam table and stare at the ceiling where there’s a painted tile with scenery. A good distraction. Still, my anxiety takes over. Would I still have a baby if I didn’t have such an important role? Maybe, but Austin wouldn’t be around to help me. Would I keep it if I were with someone else and didn’t have the part? That depends, but I can’t picture myself with anyone else. What if Austin and I weren’t actors and were pregnant? I think I would have a baby then, but that isn’t the case right now. If I am pregnant, should I keep the baby? I guess we’ll see.
The technician comes into the room with a comforting smile, “Good morning, I’m Kendra, and I’ll be doing your ultrasound today. How are you feeling?”
Kenda sits on the rolling chair in front of the computer as I search for an answer. I feel compelled to be honest with her even though I don’t know her.
“A little scared,” I gulp.
“It’s normal to feel out of place when you might be pregnant, but we’ll figure out if you are or not together, okay?” Kendra smiles, grasping one of my hands comfortingly.
I nod, and she grabs some jelly, “This is gonna be cold for a second.”
Kendra spreads the jelly around my lower abdomen, pressing the transducer into me. She focuses hard on the screen and takes pictures every few seconds using the keyboard keys. After a few minutes of moving the transducer around, she sits it down.
“Alright, we’re done here. I’ll take you back to the exam room, and Dr. Ken will give you the results,” Kendra says, “I hope you get the results you’re hoping for!”
I just smile and mutter thanks as she leaves the room. I clean up with the sheet and get redressed. I am redirected to the exam room I was previously in, and I nervously swing my legs back and forth as I sit on the exam table. After about ten minutes, Dr. Ken returns to the room.
“Alright, so according to the ultrasound, you are not pregnant,” he says, “However, if you go another few weeks without a period, I suggest giving us a call. But with all the stress in the world and your life, missing your period is normal in this situation.”
I nod, taking in his results. You are not pregnant. I feel relieved but also a little sad. Relieved because I don’t have to have surgery or put my and Austin’s careers on hold. Sad because I do want a baby, but right now is just not the right time. Dr. Ken leaves the room, bidding me a farewell. The nurse discharges me, and I go back into the waiting room. Austin is resting his arms against his thighs, his legs bouncing at an alarming pace. When I close the door, he looks up, and a flash of fear crosses his face.
Austin stands up from his chair quickly, “So?”
“Not pregnant for now,” I say.
Austin lets out a breath, “Okay. Not pregnant for now.”
“Nope,” I look at him, trying to read his eyes.
“Maybe later, then,” Austin smiles, tucking my hair behind my ear, “When things aren’t so crazy in our careers and the world.”
“Yeah, maybe later,” I smile back.
Austin and I had agreed we wanted children when we first began dating, but that was so long ago. We both got caught up in our careers, got older, and didn’t discuss it again. But I’m glad it’s something we both want, even if it’s not right now.
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Aspirin (Namjoon x OC)
Summary: You have a cold. Across the world, your loving boyfriend and spoiler king, Namjoon, is a dangerous combination of concerned and amused.
Pairing: Namjoon x OC
Genre: Established relationship; fluff
Word Count: 3.7 K
Warnings: mild sickness, long distance yearning, Namjoon is the dreamiest boyfriend on earth
A/N: This is set a few months prior to Industry Baby, and describes one of the "firsts" of Namjoon and Kaya's relationship. I wrote most of it on my phone in Bangkok airport and on Chaweng beach, so any typos are due to the vast amount of sand in my eyes.
Thank you so much to the wonderful @horanghoe and @meirkive who beta-ed this for me with tons of in-depth feedback and appropriate gushing <3
This is also part of my submission towards the Bangtan Bingo Spring Event by @bangtanwritingbingo, using my square “Sickfic”.
If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment or ask :)
Listen to: "gotta have you" by the weepies
namjoon masterlist | main masterlist
It's too high.
Kaya sighs, feeling her sinuses struggling to process even such a simple action. She debates vaguely which is worse: the cold that came out of nowhere, or the dissertation she's midway through reviewing that simply has to be done by Monday, come what may. Right now, she's leaning towards the former.
Correction: it's the bottle of Aspirin that's one shelf too high.
She has absolutely no idea how it ended up there. If she can't reach the shelf to retrieve it, she definitely couldn't have placed it there in the first place. Her first thought is her friend Alex, who came over a few weeks ago and would have presumably helped herself to a couple of pills, as she usually does every time she's worked late. Her second thought is Namjoon, for whom the shelf is probably at eye level - but it’s been months since he’s been to her apartment so it’s highly unlikely that he would’ve inadvertently put her in this position.
Almost as though he knew she was thinking about him, her phone pings from where she’s left it on the dining table. Wincing at the sound, she shuffles out of the bathroom and across the kitchen of her studio apartment to check it.
Kaya’s heart leaps weakly. She sinks into the chair, lowers the brightness of the screen and types out a reply.
Believe me, there’s nothing beautiful about me right now.
Lies. How are you feeling?
She squints and begins replying, but her headache persists. Giving up, she calls him, setting the phone on speaker and walking over to the kitchen. He picks up on the second ring.
She can hear the smile in his voice, and despite the horridness of her cold, it makes her feel slightly better.
"Sorry, I couldn't look at the screen any longer," she says thickly, placing it on the counter and retrieving a mug from a cabinet. "My head's pounding."
"Shit." In the background, she can hear the faint honking of a car. "It's that bad?"
"Remember how you pretended to pass out after I made you try that shrimp fried rice?”
“I remember crab and tuna being in there, too,” replies Namjoon calmly. “But that’s still pretty bad. Don’t you think you should go to a doctor?”
Kaya shakes her head immediately, wincing at the stinging pain in the middle of her forehead before she remembers that he can’t see her. “No, it’s not that bad. Yet,” she adds doubtfully. “And I don’t have the time for it, so I’m just making some green tea. Apparently it helps. Oh, and Aspirin.” When another honk emanates through the speaker, she frowns. “Are you driving?”
“No… I take my test next weekend,” he says sheepishly.
She chuckles. “I’m so proud,” she says, only partly joking. “Call me in case you need a pep talk?”
“I’m an expert at pep talks, I’ll have you know.”
“At giving them, maybe. These pep talks are different,” she informs him, tearing open a packet and shaking out the tea bag. “It’s a different kind of encouragement you need when you’re handling a machine that can actually kill a person.”
“Not helping,” he says. “I’m on my way to dinner. I’m super late and everyone’s already ordered…” He sighs heavily. “I really hope they haven’t got clams.”
“That’s rough, babe.”
“Shut up,” he mutters, but she can hear the chuckle in his voice. “Do you have any Aspirin in the house?”
“Yeah,” she answers, mimicking his sigh, “I just have to figure out how to get to it. Either my super tall friend or my super tall boyfriend left it there the last time they came over,” she says deliberately, sniffling into the sleeve of her hoodie.
Namjoon chuckles again. “I swear, baby, your super tall boyfriend didn’t touch that Aspirin. Oh, and before you try it,” he says quickly, a mild panic in his voice, “please don’t try to climb on the bathroom counter? Especially when you’re sick.”
Kaya rolls her eyes, instantly feeling her head spin again. “Of course not." A notification pops up on her screen and she suddenly remembers something. "Okay, wait, I think Mark’s out today. Maybe I'll ask him to pick some on his way back," she mutters, typing out a message to him.
"And Mark is…"
"My neighbour. Blond hair, army jacket? Looks like Matt Damon from The Departed?" she prompts. "You met him, when we were on our way out to dinner."
"Right." There's a pause during which she can hear the faint sound of a car zoom by. "I was confusing him with Maxim. That's the guy who dropped you back from campus that night, right?"
"Yeah, the new TA," she answers absently, scrolling through her phone. "Okay, Mark isn't responding."
"Is there anyone else you can call?" The underlying concern creeps in, and she feels herself smile in spite of herself.
"I can take care of myself," she reasons calmly. "He'll respond eventually. Even if it's late. I just really need that Aspirin to work," she groans.
Namjoon doesn't follow the change of topic, though. "Are you sure it’s a good idea to let some guy into your apartment in the middle of the night?" he asks, and this time the concern is unmistakable. "Especially when you’re weak and sick?"
"I'm not weak and sick," she says, rolling her eyes and dipping the tea bag into the cup of hot water. "I mean, I'm feeling weak and I am sick…" He's silent and she can almost visualize him raising an eyebrow knowingly. "And it's just Mark. He helped me fix my router, too, remember?"
Kaya takes the phone off speaker and brings it to her ear, turning around to lean back against the kitchen counter. "Trust me, I won't be inviting anyone into this toxic petri dish of germs for a few days now."
She can hear his smile through the phone. "That's what I like to hear." There's a beep through the phone followed by a rustle before his voice comes back. "Kaya, can I call you later, baby? I'm getting a call from Sera."
"Wow. PR agent trumps girlfriend, I see."
"That is not true," he says immediately, sounding rather like he's rolling his eyes. "There’s just that interview tomorrow and it’s an English one so there will be a lot of briefing for the other members."
Kaya snickers, the first time she's felt like doing so all day. "I'm kidding, babe. Sick people can make jokes too, you know?"
"Go on, then, music producer," she says, sighing and picking up her mug of tea and heading back to the dining table. "I should call Mark too."
"Alright, love you. Feel better, baby."
His last words sound like there's a hug to follow and for a moment, Kaya is immensely disappointed that she can't get one, not while she's in Amsterdam and he's in Seoul. She simply sighs, hating being sick all over again. "I’ll do my best," she mumbles, trying not to whine as he chuckles and hangs up
Kaya is sick and Namjoon is in a hurry, and neither of them notice.
She tries to stick to her word, though. She never does manage to retrieve the Aspirin but she drinks a second cup of green tea and moves to her tiny balcony with her laptop, hoping the fresh air might help her some. The glare of the screen is still too much, though, especially since her work for the day involves reading through assignments handed in by her thesis advisor’s post grad students. It’s dull work, especially since this particular class seems to be filled with absolute idiots - or that’s the way it feels today.
The wifi signal struggles to reach the balcony, too, and around late afternoon, once it starts raining, she gives up. Shuffling back into her apartment with her laptop in one hand and coffee mug clutched to her chest with the other, she gives it another go before she has to get on a call with her advisor and his junior TA, Maxim, which also comes to a close quite soon.
“Kaya, I can barely understand you.” Professor Lloyd clutches the bridge of his nose. Kaya, whose video is mercifully turned off, opens her mouth to speak but is swiftly cut off. “You sound like you’re talking through a wall, dear,” he adds kindly, and to that, she has no response.
“Sleep it off, and you can get a download from Maxim tomorrow.” Without giving her a chance to reply, he logs her out of the meeting.
Stumped, Kaya slams the lid of her laptop shut. Too tired to get off the couch, however, she stays there, feeling as though every limb could fall off any moment. She doesn’t wake up until hours later, and even that’s only because Mark calls her, informing her that his girlfriend might come over later that evening and if she does, could Kaya please hand over his spare key?
“Sure,” she answers groggily, coughing into the sleeve of her hoodie.
“Are you okay?”
“No, I feel like I could die, honestly.”
“What?” There’s a note of panic in his voice. “What are you talking about? What happened?”
“Nothing, it’s… it’s just a cold,” she mutters, feeling her face clog worse than ever. “Could you… pick me up some Aspirin or something on your way back?” she asks, realising only as she says it that her headache has indeed disappeared after her nap, but everything else hurts twofold. “You know what? Forget it.”
“Are you sure? I could get it."
She bites her lip. “That would be great, actually. No pressure. I’ll give Emma the key.”
“Okay, then. And thanks,” he says. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
Kaya makes a non-committal noise before hanging up, feeling hideous. She attempts a shower where she wonders briefly if the fifteen minute window of hot water is enough for her to drown herself. That’s followed by a rather sad dinner of ramen - courtesy Namjoon, who’d insisted on having a box of ready–to-cook ramen in her apartment for emergencies - and whose only purpose is sustenance until she wakes up the next morning.
The TV is a no-go, the volume either too low or too high. She even opens her laptop again but after reading the first email in her inbox (Hi Kaya, I just wanted to check if you’ve had a chance to go through my paper yet. I’ve quoted Ayn Rand in a couple of places and I was just wondering if Professor Lloyd would find that a bit too self-serving, given my main argument? If you could let me know what his reaction would be so I can change it, that would be fantastic. Regards, Matthew), she resists the urge to reply with a single “No”, and simply switches off her laptop.
It's a little after midnight when she finally resigns herself to bed, in the irritating position of being simultaneously exhausted yet wide awake. Wrapped in a blanket and a college hoodie, she props her phone up against the pillow next to hers, trying not to think about how it ought to be occupied by a certain someone now more than ever, and switches on an episode of Modern Family, hugging a box of tissues.
One and a half episodes in, the video gets cut off by an incoming call. Her annoyance lasts half a second before she realises who it is. Answering it with her knuckle, she snuggles further into her blanket, her heart flipping when she hears his voice.
"Hey, how are you feeling?"
Kaya buries her face further into the pillow. "Like crap," she groans, voice muffled. "What are you doing up? Isn't it, like, the crack of dawn over there?"
"Um… no, it's almost seven-thirty."
"Perfect." She sniffles, emerging and wiping her nose with the crumpled tissue in her hand. "My brain is broken. I'm officially ill."
Namjoon snickers, and almost involuntarily, her heart skips a beat. "Baby, your brain is fine. Did you check if you have a fever? You look like you're sweating a bit."
"No, that's the VapoRub on my - wait how can you -" Kaya finally looks at her phone screen and gasps. "Oh, my God, you video called me?" She immediately hitches the blanket upto her nose. "What the hell, Namjoon?"
"What did I - you answered it!" he exclaims, eyes widening.
Finally able to look at the screen without flinching, she takes note of her boyfriend; white long-sleeved t-shirt on, hair a soft brown and falling messily into his eyes. She leans slightly forward and squints.
"Are you at the studio? This early?"
“Home studio,” he corrects her. “I have to make a few edits to this track and the rest of the day is going to be all about that interview.” He stifles a yawn into his hand. “Just waiting for my computer to turn on.”
Kaya groans again. “You can’t see me like this - I’m all gross and sick. Can’t we switch to regular call?”
“What? No! Kaya, you look fine. You’re -”
“Do not say I’m beautiful,” she interrupts him forcefully, hating and loving how comforting he looks with his bed head and broad chest. “I’m hideous,” she laments, burying her face into the blanket again.
Namjoon snorts. “This is a new side of you,” he comments, chuckling when she peeks out again in horror.
“It is. I’m ill,” she states dramatically, pushing her glasses up her nose. “And it’s too early in our relationship for you to see me like this, so I’m switching to -”
“No, Kaya - no.” He shakes his head, looking completely serious now. “Come on, I haven’t seen your face in three days, okay? I miss you.”
It’s the only thing that can give her pause. Sighing heavily, she tugs the blanket down to her chest. “I hate you. And I miss you, too.” When he grins, she can’t help but smile, too, even though she tries to suppress it. “I hate being sick,” she grumbles. “I look and feel like a troll.”
“You still have Disney princess eyes.”
“Like Cinderella before the fairy godmother?”
“You think she was in a ball gown and make-up for the rest of their lives?” He grimaces. “The prince would’ve been into her even in sweats and glasses.”
Kaya chuckles. “And you’re the prince in this scenario?”
“He wanted someone who could fit into the glass slipper, I wanted someone who could discuss Norwegian Wood with me without bringing up the movie.”
“High expectations, Mr Kim.”
“You fulfilled them all, Miss Madaan.” He smiles, making her heart do a backflip. “And more.”
Kaya bites her lip, suddenly wanting him here more than ever, despite her complaints. “I really hate being sick,” she murmurs, sniffling.
Resting his chin on his palm, he tosses his hair out of his eyes. “It’s uncomfortable, I know,” he says sympathetically.
“No, it’s not that. I just become this whining, bitching, moaning mess - which is so unlike me,” she adds, rolling her eyes. “And I fall into this spiral of self-pity and I cry at the dumbest things. Honestly, I miss you, but I’m kind of glad you aren’t around to see me in this state,” she tells him, dabbing at her nose with a tissue again.
“Well, it’s been three months into this relationship and I haven’t found a reason to break up with you yet,” he says seriously.
“I’d like to keep it that way.” Cracking a small smile, she tries to settle in a bit more comfortably. “How’d you sleep? You’re up early.”
“Yeah -” Namjoon leans back in his chair and stretches, and the momentary longing to be on his lap right then is intense. “There’s some construction that’s been going on here for, like, an hour. And the studio is soundproof, so…” He shrugs before looking up. “You remember, don’t you?”
Despite the cold, she bites her lip at the memory, a warmth coursing up her neck. “I remember,” she says softly, nodding.
“Yeah, well. There’s some drilling going on somewhere and this is the only place where I can’t hear it.” He shakes his head. “It’s like a… like a sanctuary of my life’s work in the middle of the world’s most mundane events.”
Kaya stares. “Wow. That’s poetic, babe.”
“Nah, I can do better.” He waves a hand dismissively. “What about you? What did you do all day? Did you ever get that Aspirin?”
“Not yet, but I don’t have a headache anymore either,” she replies, tucking a greasy strand of hair behind her ear. “Now it’s just hot and cold flushes, along with the inability to breathe through my nose.” As if on cue, she sniffles. “It’s awesome.”
“Did you get any sleep? You know it’s important,” he says knowingly.
She narrows her eyes. “Such a hypocrite,” she mutters, and he grins bashfully. “Yeah, I did, actually. Right after I got kicked off a Skype call. Can you imagine?”
“You did what? What were you even doing on a Skype call when you’re sick, Kaya?” he demands, his tone part exasperated and part disapproving.
“I was working!” she exclaims. “Until Professor, uh… oh, what the fuck is his name?” she mutters, trailing off and shutting her eyes.
“I want to say Floyd?”
“Right. Lloyd.” She shakes her head. “He told me to sleep it off. Said I sounded like a truck or something.”
Namjoon raises an eyebrow. “Really? He said that?”
“Well… not exactly those words. But it’s in the same ballpark.”
“Isn’t it a good thing he’s telling you to take the day off?”
“Well, sure, but my deadline isn’t getting pushed back at all.” She turns over onto her back and runs a hand over her face. “This cold has to get better by tomorrow or I’m going to be working all through the weekend. Doesn’t help that this set of assignments is handed in by absolute morons,” she adds unfairly.
“Weren’t you one of those morons? About a year ago?”
“Excuse me,” she declares coldly. “I never handed in assigments over WhatsApp. And I had the foresight to do a damn spell check and not misspell Nietzsche, like an imbecile.” She sighs. “I told you I’m a nightmare when I’m sick,” she mumbles, turning over onto her side again to face him. "It's incredibly unattractive."
He smiles adoringly, though, his dimple popping. “It’s alright. I love you even when you're a nightmare."
There's a pause before several things happen at once. The words click in her mind the same time that Namjoon's eyes widen before he sighs.
"Did you just -"
"Not how I was planning it, but…" He shrugs, looking far less horrified than she feels.
"You - you can't -" Kaya kicks her blanket aside weakly as she struggles to straighten up a bit, pushing her glasses up her nose. "Joon, what did you do?" she groans.
"What are you talking about?"
"You can't say that for the first time when I'm like this!"
Namjoon's face relaxes. "It wasn't on purpose, but it's true," he reasons.
"Well… take it back!"
"What? No! I'm not going to take it back," he argues, rolling his eyes. "I meant it."
Trying to ignore how her heart leaps at his words, she groans again. "Come on, Joon, not like this!"
"Why not? Just because you have a cold, I can't tell you I love -"
"Stop! Oh, God!" Kaya covers her face, whining as she hears him laugh. "I hate you so much, Kim Namjoon."
"Not the sentiment I was going for, but I love you, Kaya Madaan."
"Feel free to say it back, by the way."
"Absolutely not," she declares, dropping her hands and glaring at him. "I'm going to wait until you're at your absolute worst to say it back."
He snorts, laughing even harder now, looking more handsome than ever. "Really? What's that going to look like?"
"I don't know. Seokjin told me you fall down a lot, so maybe one of those times?"
"I used to fall down a lot," he corrects her. "I’m a lot more coordinated now. Wait, so does this mean I'm going to have to wait until we're physically together to hear it?"
"Probably," she says icily, adjusting her blankets with a vengeance now. "And you have no one but yourself to blame."
He considers it for a moment. "I don't regret it," he decides.
She rolls her eyes when the doorbell rings. "Oh, that must be Mark," she mutters, sitting up awkwardly and climbing off the bed.
"Now?" Namjoon frowns as she picks up the phone on her way out. He checks his watch, jaw clenching slightly. "It's really late, Kaya."
"Yeah, well, he got back late, I guess," she murmurs, wiping at her nose with her sleeve. "It's Aspirin, I'll need it." She stops before opening the door and looks back at the screen. "I'll talk to you later? Think I'll just knock myself out with a pill."
"Be careful." He sighs, leaning back in his chair. "I miss you."
Kaya bites her lip, leaning back similarly against her front door and holding the phone up. "I miss you, too. I'm coming to Seoul next month, though," she says lightly.
"For a week," he adds, before shaking his head. "Sorry. It's better than nothing."
"Feel better. I love you," he adds after a moment, smirking.
"Oh, God," she mutters, this time completely failing at hiding her smile as her stomach does a backflip and her mind begins wandering into dangerous territory, such as how it would feel to hear those words in person, possibly with his arms around her, maybe with his lips at her ear, deep voice saying it for no one but her.
Namjoon is still grinning, clearly amused by this unexpected reaction. "Nothing you want to say?"
"Aspirin," she says blankly, making a show of moving away from the door and placing her hand on the knob.
"Alright, then. Bye."
He tilts his head, dimple popping. "I love you."
She nods, swallowing. "Yeah... Aspirin," she tells him, softer this time, before hanging up.
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