#they make me so happy and i feel oddly proud of them??
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It was actually awesome to binge/rewatch tgwdlm and bf right before npmd and see the improvement in quality! I mean obviously the music and acting always slapped but the sets, the editing, the costumes, the camera work, you can see the evolution and it is a m a z i n g
#i just love starkid man#they make me so happy and i feel oddly proud of them??#i've only been a fan since 2020 but still#anyway stream npmd#nerdy prudes must die#npmd#starkid#tgwdlm#black friday starkid#hatchetfield
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flower
pairing: bf!Miguel O’Hara x f!reader
summary: You won’t let Miggy play.
warnings: 18+ MDNI, sad feelings, clothed sex, cum in pants (lmk if I forgot anything)
wc: 2.2k
a/n: Gwen is 21 just for drinking purposes— everyone say thank u to @naeverse for giving me an alternative to google translate for the spanish!! ily bby!! 🫶🏾
Miguel is like your best artwork, in your opinion. The way you took the hard seed he was and watered, loved, cared and nurtured him so he could bloom into the flower he was today is one of your greatest achievements.
When you met him he was cold, closed off, and angry. It took months of breaking down his wall before he could even admit his feelings for you, it took even more, to get him to express his feelings for you. It was like luring a stray cat, slowly getting him closer, and more comfortable with you before pushing your physical feelings onto him. You coaxed him out of his cave of isolation, of touch deprivation, and showed him how it felt to have someone love on him.
You were so proud when he started coming to you for simple little things, like a kiss or a hug. You’d be working and he’d stride in, tall and confident just to ask you, shyly, for a kiss. For a long time you explained to him that he didn’t always need to ask you, you were okay with him just coming in and kissing you. You also had to explain to him that he’s allowed to ask for more than a hug or kiss, he was very resistant on that matter but you managed to break him.
One day he woke up in the middle of the night, you were asleep next to him and he needed you. He laid there for an hour, debating on whether he should wake you up or not. When he did wake you up, you couldn’t have been prouder. You made sure to let him know that as you rode him.
At first, he wouldn’t even hold your hand or hug you in public. He got comfortable with PDA much quicker than the others, it only took him a few weeks. He plunged himself into it head first.
He went from barely touching you to being all over you. He started sitting you in his lap, resting his arms over your hips while standing behind you, or laying his head on your stomach whenever you guys were chilling in the lounge.
He even got into the habit of running his fingers over your tummy, going under your shirt or dissipating your suit just to feel you. Or he’ll just grope you through your suit, it doesn’t alway seem sexual for him… more like he enjoys the closeness, the intimacy of touching you, holding you in places no one else can. For example; your boobs, your ass, and his most recent, most consistent obsession… your pussy.. just cupping, your clothed pussy.
He says it’s calming for him, most of the time he does it absently. The goal isn't to make you cum, or prep your for his cock. He just loves touching you. It made you unbelievably happy to see him like that, your secretly sweet boy, loving all over you, not caring who’s around. It was one of the best things to ever happen to you.
Which is what makes this current conversation so awkward.
Hobie is rambling on and on about how disgusting PDA is. Miguel isn't around, thank god. He went to get a drink and never came back. Hobie has been ranting about how inconsiderate, and inappropriate PDA is as you awkwardly sip on your drink, feeling oddly targeted. Jess and Gwen agree with him, saying that it’s not that serious but definitely annoying. You’re just wishing for them all to just stop before Miguel returns, terrified that he’ll retreat back into his shell. That you’ll loose your sweet flower.
“ ‘M jus sayin’ it’s not like they can’t wait ‘til they get ‘ome. I jus feel like… come off it, y’know? Like you’re in public, right? Jus... keep it in your pants.” You down your drink and decide to finally butt into the conversation.
“Hobie. I love you but you’re the same guy who doesn’t believe in consistency.” You earn a little chuckle from the table. “Get in a loving, serious, consistent relationship, and tell me you’ll never want to be affectionate outside your house.” The words spit from your mouth with more venom than intended but you stand your ground.
“Aye, I guess. But like, some people don’t know when to dial it back.” He laughs with Gwen as you get up to leave. Jess is sending you an apologetic look that you smile at briefly before turning to walk away. You’re stopped by a.. wall?
You open your eyes to see what you ran into and see Miguel smiling down at you. “Where are you going?” You smile back at him, genuinely, and tell him a half-truth. “I was looking for you! Where have you been?”
Miguel looks a little drunk, his face flushed, and his eyes hazy. You guys have been drinking but it usually takes more. He shrugs and sits in your seat, patting his leg for you to sit in his lap.
You start toward him but then Hobie’s words play in your head and you shake your head softly at him. He looks confused but nods at you and falls into the conversation, now talking about the latest mission.
You’re standing there considering Hobie’s words. If you imagine how you and Miguel act from an outsider's perspective… you can see why they’d find it annoying. Anxiety curls and makes a home in your chest as you flip through all your favorite memories of you and Miguel, all of them now tainted. You head over to the bar silently, needing another drink when you feel someone behind you.
You feel pressure on the top of your head and know it's Miguel, placing a kiss on your head, another recent habit of his. You do nothing, ignore it as he wraps his arms around your waist and leans into you. “Oh, Peter B. says Hello. He was here earlier for a bit. That’s what took me so long. He made me drink with him too. Puede que haya bebido mucho.”
(“I may have had too much to drink”)
A smile makes its way onto your face as you listen to him, his accent thicker with his intoxication. He’s leaning on you, not for support but just to feel you against him. You guys stand there in comfortable silence until you feel Miguel’s hand begin to slide from your hip to your pelvis, it slides underneath the band of your skirt and you stop him. “Not now, Miggy. Sorry.” Your drink arrives, you pay, and leave. Miguel follows behind you, slightly deflated by your rejection. Your mind is still on Hobie’s words.
Are we “too much”? Do we take it “too far”..? Maybe we should just dial it back a little...
You guys arrive back at the table and Miguel tries again. His hands come to your waist and quickly slide down, trying to get under your skirt. You don’t say anything, you keep talking to Gwen as you pull his hand out.
The night goes well from that point. Miguel makes more advances that are gently rejected or avoided by you. You all gradually get drunk as the night goes on, Miguel drinks a bit more than he usually would and recluses himself to a table next to where you guys are sitting. Jess leaves first, Gwen and Hobie following her not too long after.
You and Miguel decide to leave and Uber home in silence. He usually talks more after hanging out in a group, saying everything he thought but couldn't say, giving his rating on the interaction, and more. This time, however, he’s silent, looking out his window with furrowed brows the whole ride. The silence only breaks once you both are in the apartment and you speak up.
“Why are you so quiet tonight?” You’re staring at his back as he stands in the living room. He doesn’t answer you at first, he just stands there before sighing and turning around.
“Why won’t you let me play with you?” His voice is weaker than you’ve ever heard it, his eyes look sad and desperate and his hands are wringing each other. You’ve never seen him like this, nervous and unsure. It breaks your heart.
You rush over to him and wrap him in a hug. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you wanted to that bad, baby.” You let him go and kiss his cheek. “I—“ You sigh defeatedly. “Hobie got in my head about PDA. I don’t know why I listen to him.” Miguel lets out a sigh of relief at your words, some of the tension leaving his body.
“That idiot? Yeah, no. Don’t listen to him, amor.” You smile at him and he kisses you softly. When you pull away he still has that nervous look in his eyes. “Do you wanna play with me now?” you ask gently. He nods so timidly that you regret ever rejecting him. You kiss him with a smile as he walks you backward, only stopping once your back hits the wall.
His breath is already speeding up, his chest heaving as his hand slowly slides up your skirt. The moment his fingers come in contact with your clothed pussy he groans out, louder than you. You’re shocked by his reaction as he keeps rubbing your clit, gasping, and moaning with you as if he was touching himself.
His mouth is open as moans tumble through his lips. He’s not looking at you, just watching his fingers move on your pussy. His eyebrows draw more inward the faster he moves his fingers, his moans turning into whines the faster he goes.
At some point, his fingers roll over your clit more perfectly than you can handle and your hips buck into his hands. His knees almost buckle at the sight as he lets out a deep, rumbling groan.
“Santa mierda.” His eyes roll back as he feels your wetness soak through your panties and dampen his fingers. He’s desperately hard in his pants and his hips are thrusting up into the air in time with his movements over your pussy. “Echaba mucho de menos esto, cariño”
(“Holy shit.”)
( “I missed this so much honey”)
You giggle at his apology. He tends to do this a lot when you have him extra worked up. He always feels bad because he knows you can't understand him but the truth is that when he gets you like this… Whining, moaning, and pressing into him.
He cannot function.
He can’t think about anything but breeding you, getting his fat cock into your soft pussy, and painting your cervix. He’s not worried about what language it happens in. His brain can’t focus on things like that, he’s tried.
Your hips thrust up into his hand as you grip his biceps, your nails digging in painfully, making him moan even louder. His fingers move against you perfectly, the Spanish falling from his lips pulls you closer and closer to your orgasm. Your legs start to twitch and tense, your knees weakening as the burning in your stomach grows. Your hands come up around Miguel’s neck to pull him closer to you.
“You’re making me feel so good, Miggy. Fuck- I love you so much, baby.” He lifts you off your feet, pressing you up against the wall and lifting your legs over his waist. He takes a step forward and buries himself in your neck, his hips come forward, pressing his bulge against your mound with a groan. “Yeah, good. Good, Miggy- shi-it.” You feel his fangs slide out of his mouth and press into your skin as he whimpers. “Holy- Miguel, I- fuck, like that baby please.”
His whines turn to groans as he thrusts against you like he was actually fucking you. His hips swivel into yours, stuttering as he listens to your moans. “N-nena, estoy tan cerca. Maldita sea, te sientes tan jodidamente bien, mi amor. Siento que no puedo respirar. Mierda, te sientes increíble.”
(“B-baby, I'm so close. Damn, you feel so fucking good, my love. I feel like I can't breathe. Shit, you feel amazing.”)
You moan louder at his words, the way they roll off of his tongue. You can’t even describe how you feel when he speaks, especially in Spanish. It feels like his words vibrate through your ears, to your stomach, and settle in your core, winding you up as tightly as you can go. “Yeah? Oh, I’m gonna c-cum. Fuck- talk to me, Miggy. T-tell me how it feels, honey.”
Miguel can feel his eyes roll back into his head at your words. You know he can’t speak English right now, and he knows you love it anyway, the thought has him hurtling toward his orgasm. “Te sientes tan perfecta, nena. Voy a correrme tan fuerte por ti. ¿Lo quieres? ¿Quieres que te dé mi leche, miel? Te lo daré, todo por ti, nena. Mierda.”
(“You feel so perfect, baby. I'm gonna cum so hard for you. Do you want it? Do you want me to give you my milk honey? I'll give it to you, all for you, baby. Shit.")
Your legs crush his waist as you cum, trembling in his arms as his hips keep fucking against you, his moans growing in volume. You bring your hands up to dive into his hair, pulling at it, gripping it as he growls into your neck. He’s trying to hold off until you’re done, he wants to keep going, he wants to make you cum for so long that you can’t breathe but the way you’re grasping his brown locks makes it impossible. His muscles tense, his hands squeezing you into a bruising hold as his groans devolve back into whines, his body shaking as his cock explodes.
He cums so hard he thinks he blacks out for a moment. His cock pumps out rope after rope of his cum into his pants, he wishes it was inside you for a moment and he’s cumming harder at the thought. His hips continue to buck into you desperately as he moans out your name. You feel one of his hands leave your waist and rest on your cheek shakily, pushing your head in his direction and placing a kiss on your cheek. He grunts as he bucks against you one more time before putting you down.
You knees give out the moment you touch the ground and Miguel holds you up with a chuckle. “¿Qué? ¿No puedes soportarlo, cariño? ¿Tus piernas ya no funcionan?” He teases you as he carries you to the bedroom, your head rests on his chest, feeling the vibrations as he speaks.
(“What? You can't stand, honey? Your legs don't work anymore?”)
“You better hush up before I fuck you.” You spit back at him jokingly but you feel his pace falter at the threat.
“Uh, Qué... ¿Cuál es el dicho? Don’t threaten me with a good time?” He says in a teasing tone but his eyes are already clouding over again, desperate.
(“what... what's the saying?”)
thank you so much for reading!! please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all! also if you liked it please take a look at my masterlist!
#miguel o’hara smut#miguel smut#miguel x reader#miguel spiderman#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#miguel spiderverse#spiderman 2099#miguel ohara#miguel x you#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara spider man#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 miguel o'hara#2099#sm 2099#miguel 2099#marvel 2099#miguel o hara#astv miguel#miguel atsv#luvrxfics#luvrxsmut
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summary; the relationship isn't as secretive as you think it is.
pairing; logan sargeant x fem! reader [ no faceclaim ]
a/n; gm everyone, god has let me live another day and i'm about to make it everyone's problem; this one's for my logan girlies you deserve it 🫶
liked by georgerussell63, oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 2,001 others
ynusername It's hyyyyydromatic
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georgerussell63 A little late out and about, aren't we?
ynusername sorry mom
typicallyleclerc who is this girl and why are all the drivers following her??
goosestappen childhood friend of oscar and logan's
alex_albon that's not the lights out and away we go he's supposed to be doing
ynusername girl who is "he" is "he" in the room with us rn
liked by alex_albon, williamsracing, logansargeant and 8,140 others
ynusername williams sweep <3 thank you for keeping me around like a kicked dog in need of a shelter during a thunderstorm <3
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williamsracing Oddly specific 🤨
ynusername i love you, underpaid gen z admin <3
oscarpiastri Banned from Mclaren.
ynusername let me in let me innnn
logansargeant Only one photo of me??
oscarpiastri Any reason why there should be more?
ynusername i'm an alex girlie
logansargeant But I'm
oscarpiastri Finish the sentence, Logan.
alex_albon LET'S GOOO
ynusername sorry for being obsessed with you, it will happen again
alex_albon thank you but your boyfriend is whining beside me
ynusername idk who you're talking about what boyfriend what's a boyfriend never heard of that word in my life idk who this man is
liked by williamsracing, ynusername, oscarpiastri and 87,960 others
logansargeant Beach date! 😎
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oscarpiastri And who are we dating, exactly?
logansargeant Oh you wouldn't know her, she goes to another school
redbullpapaya holy shit i'm watching a rookie soft launch what a time to be alive
applenorizz "liked by ynusername" okay
ynusername oscar is this your burner account
nandogoat GF REVEAL WHEN
lionkingseb this is so y/n coded
osc_pastry oh my god i thought people on twitter were joking THIS IS SO CUTE
liked by landonorris, fernandoalo_oficial, georgerussell63 and 35,291 others
ynusername party rockers in the house tonight
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georgerussell63 One year closer to becoming a wine aunt
ynusername 🥹 nicest thing you've ever said to me georgie
oscarpiastri it's "party rock is"
landonorris I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU 🗣️
ynusername BUT I'M FEELING 22 🗣️🗣️
fernandoalo_oficial Happy Birthday!
ynusername Thank you grandpa ily 🫶🥰
logansargeant Nowhere in sight. Again.☹️
alex_albon probably because you two were gone for half the party?
oscarpiastri Suspiciously.
ynusername ACCUSATIONS. FALSE ACCUSATIONS.
liked by arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 13,211 others
ynusername since we're talking about not being included in your significant other's posts how about the fact that i'm always behind the camera?????
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oscarpiastri Someone has to be skilled enough to get my good angles
logansargeant You are my entire camera roll??
ynusername POST THEM
georgerussell63 Thank god, we can all stop pretending it wasn't painfully obvious you two are dating
alex_albon you haven't seen what i've seen, my child
bbglewis DID THEY JUST CONFIRM THEY'RE DATING??
pierrette OH
mcmango your what now's posts
albon_goated quick everyone act surprised
liked by landonorris, liamlawson30, logansargeant and 10,924 others
ynusername proud to announce i hit that
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landonorris thanks i didn't need to know that keep that shit to yourself
ynusername you love us, actually
logansargeant Oh, I'm on every slide? Generous.
ynusername 🙄 sleeping on the couch tonight
pic credits: instagram and pinterest
#logan sargeant#logan sargeant x reader#f1#f1 social media au#f1 instagram au#f1 smau#f1 x reader#instagram au#f1 imagine#social media au#logan sargeant au
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colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)
Summary: You're the flower blossoming in Jungkook's living room, no matter how relentless the rain. And you're the sun he tirelessly orbits — warm as a home.
➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader
➳ rating: 18+
➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; hints of angst, fluff overload, suggestive
➳ warnings: full jk pov!, fluff fluff fluff, but also crying, bits of insecurities, mommy and daddy issues, their friendddsss <3, oc's favourite blanket smells like him <3, his feelings for her are consuming him in a gorgeous way 🥺, grocery shopping 🍏 and then a housewarming party, jk chocolate chip nips appreciation (oc pinches them lol), horniness, implied sex + implied boner, sexual tension, flirting and teasing and bickering, yearning, convos about their relationship/life, cooking together hehe, jk is so… jk, kissing/making out, the ending ♡
➳ word count: 15.6k
➳ a/n: domesticity is my favourite city and i never wanna leave lol. i've genuinely been enjoying fluff more than i ever thought i would. this chapter made me so damn happy and i hope it has the same effect on you guys, too <3 let me know how you liked it; feedback is always appreciated 🥺 also, there are lil sub-headings to avoid confusion with the timeline!! enjoy!! 🤍
➳ a/n2: even though i am a tiny bit late… happy birthday @jkaxl. love you so much, axelle <3
➳ listen to: daylight by taylor swift (ty anon <3) | full collaborative playlist 🤍
SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST
MASTERLIST | WIPs
”Are you happy?”
“I’m… I’m adjusting to it all. It’s new. But so far I feel— relieved.”
“Okay.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I didn’t encourage that feeling earlier. But… you know. You found your way on your own, and somehow, I find that just as remarkable. If not so much more.”
“Thank you.”
Silence breaks the dialogue, but there are still shreds of unspoken words he’s not letting out yet. Right on the tip of his tongue, resting quietly; so you wait. Let your weary gaze slump to your lap, blinking until you hear a rustle and a—
“Do you want to come over sometime?”
You don’t know.
So you respond in just that uncertainty, “Maybe at some point? When it’s… not so overwhelming anymore.”
“I understand. Hey,” another break in his speech, “I’m proud of you.”
Your heart suspends for a fraction of a moment, but you feel the seething, searing pain. Fresh, clumping up your throat.
“…Thank you.”
THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE
When Jungkook locks the door, the apartment is quiet, but the living room light still glowing.
Still fired up and hot, the cool back of his hand pats his warm neck and cheek. Your name threatens to tumble off his tongue, but an oddly calm feeling advises against it. And as he carries his bag into the living room, setting it down next to a big flower pot you so wanted, he sees why.
Because you’re curled up on the couch, temple against the back of it, legs pulled in. Your favourite blanket — that you swear constantly smells like him — is draped half over you, falling off one of your shoulders.
You’re sound asleep.
Jungkook recognises the pout even from afar; lets his eyes drift from your face to the hand peeking out of the blanket. Brushing a piece of paper that is holding on for dear life, attempting not to slip off your lap.
What if he never moved? If he kept staring?
Back in college, one of his dearest professors used to say, “You know it’s art when even blinking feels like a waste of time. You don’t want to spend a second not looking at it.”
That very semester is still a major component of Jungkook’s memory. Ever since, he’s seen a handful and a dozen and a hundred pieces that matched the words once uttered.
Just, never as much as today.
The sky has obscured since he left two hours ago — he wonders how fast that time passed for you. Either way, he reckons you didn’t rest until your body forced you to. Because it’s not anywhere near bedtime; but the changes in your life constantly add to your exhaustion.
He wanted to help. He did all morning before you sent him away, arguing that, “You’re already doing too much. And you hate paperwork anyway!”
To which he expressed, “But I don’t hate you or having you here!”
“Just go!” You reached to his left nipple, poking it, and he, wearing a frisky smirk, instinctively threw a protective hand over it. “The muscles demand your attention desperately. Just don’t look at other girls’ butts, ‘kay?”
He chuckled.
You made it sound like a life-altering goodbye to a year-long journey instead of a brief trip to the gym. He nodded solemnly, nearly saluting as he agreed, “You’re right. Gonna make sure I’m able to crush you extra hard.”
But it seems you crushed and knocked yourself out well enough. And that after he sent out various emails with you, drafting and crafting a battle plan, googling salient issues and their solutions, and writing down lists of everything still left to do before you can actually move in.
The two of you are lucky the landlord is laid-back. Usually, they don’t let anyone move in so quickly; demand a couple months. And you’ll already be settling here officially the very next.
Not that it makes any difference.
You already spend your dusks and dawns here, clinging, reluctant to go home. And he won’t tell you to; he’d be a fool to. Plus, he hates his bed cold.
Jungkook’s steps are slow, muscles painful to the touch. He sweeps his tresses back as he nears your slumbering, balled up form, soon pressing a hand into the arm of the couch. Suppressing a groan, he leans in; frees your closed eye from a lock before he plants a kiss next to it.
You stir with the softest flutter of your eyelashes, just a teeny tiny bit.
God. You tilt his world off its axis.
“Baby,” he whispers.
It must be pulling you out of the remnants of your doze, because your muscles awaken, corners of your lips twitching. The movement of your legs finally pushes the paper off the blanket, and Jungkook hurries to catch it before it can drift to the floor; places it on the table.
He kneels; and for the briefest, smallest moments, you flinch when your pupils eventually align with his. Then, relaxation floods you anew, and you grip the blanket, sliding it back over you — only for it to glide down again.
You smile — a tired beam, accompanied by a sigh. Not quite wide, because you’re not fully there yet, but still so genuine. Stretching a little, you murmur, “You’re back.”
“And you’re still working,” he scolds, albeit cushioning his words by bringing a fingertip to your jaw. Flicking affectionately, softly. “Did you eat?”
“Mhmmm. But it’s—” Your hand taps for something, moving under the blanket; and a second later, you’re lighting up your phone, squinting at it. “It’s not late. Gonna eat with you again. I’m not that tired anymore.”
As if on cue, you yawn, tears of weariness collecting. You interrupt it with a gentle snicker and promise, “I mean it.”
The lopsided smile emerges on his features quickly. The drowsy, vulnerable tone in your voice caresses his heart like a gust… but the meaning behind it doesn’t pass by him so fast.
“Don’t overwork yourself, okay?” he repeats for the fifth time today alone; it’s become a constant habit. A reminder, like clockwork. “The body knows when you do.”
“No. I feel great.”
“Just. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.”
“I am,” you defend, attempting to stress the verb, but not quite getting there, “I am. Don’t worry so much.”
An impossible demand; but how would he explain it to you?
Despite the shake of his head, he still gives in, “Okay. I’ll shower and be back in a sec, yeah?”
He waits for your confirmation until you hum in unintelligible agreement, moving back in to plant a kiss on your forehead. Rushes to the shower, washes off today’s effort.
Wet hair strands pushed back, he finds you shuffling and organising the papers you read and filled in today, placing them neatly in the middle of the table. You look more awake now, delivering a content smile before heading to the kitchen with him.
Only, your mind might not be entirely unfogged yet — because your movements are slow. Different from how he handles the stir fry that the two of you cooked for lunch together.
You were proud of your creation — told Jungkook how you’re still far from the skills he possesses, but not bad to start with and improving every day. Seasoning better, understanding how to cut faster without hurting yourself in the process.
It’s lovely, watching the contentment spread in your eyes.
Yet, Jungkook always makes sure to stand close to your back, hands lifted, persistently ready to salvage the situation if need be.
But right now, judging from your clearly burdened brain, he bestowed a relatively simple task upon you. And you look so cute doing it — bun all messy, shoulders slumped, sporting (after stealing) his joggers since they’re so ridiculously comfortable, so get your own.
He side-eyes you every now and then, forbearing a chuckle; but when your lower lip juts in concentration, he can’t help but sling an arm around your waist. The jug containing the iced tea shakes, and you hold the glass carefully, voicing a little, “Oh— I… Kook.”
You’re wide-eyed and caught off guard; blinking when he tilts his head and leaves a kiss under your ear.
You raise your shoulder at the tickling sensation, and when you call his name again, your voice is reprimanding. But he could pick out the endearment even in his sleep.
That’s how it goes every hour of the day; sweet and new ever since you started frequenting his place even more often than before.
Something has occurred since the press conference. Two days only — but the universe has changed. Maybe it has expanded faster than ever and birthed a couple billion more stars, made even the nights brighter. He doesn’t know.
All he does recognise is that unnamed, newfound feeling spreading in his chest, and he’s been unblurring it. Bit by bit. Letting it take on a form that will soon consume him. He’s sure.
And soon, there’ll be a fitting word and definition matching this phenomenon, too.
It’s triggered by even the smallest things.
Like by the sound of your steps when you walk through the apartment. Or by the way you hum your favourite song all the time, unconsciously; then singing the line you hold dearest to your heart before resuming to the hum.
Trust in me when I say…
Or even… by how you’re facing him an hour later, satiated and cross-legged on the bed as you finish up today’s work.
You’ll have to notify the bank and whatnot of your move soon, so you need to brainstorm the relevant institutions that the new address and information will go to. It shouldn’t take too long; you’re diligent, so you’ll just be noting down all numbers next to the places you need to contact and then crash.
Jungkook soon takes over that task, lips moving as he reads the words, writes them down. And amidst the end-of-the-day chore, you crane your neck to read, and tell him, “You have such pretty handwriting.”
“So do you. I didn’t know you made circles over your lower case I’s,” he looks closer to where you scribbled, tapping the pen against a letter, “and awwh. The curves of the T’s!”
You giggle before you add, “I’ve heard a pretty handwriting symbolises inner beauty, by the way.”
“Ohh, so we’re both beautiful.”
“No doubt. We need to take more pictures… we look great together.”
That’s what’s been filling the hours of these days, too, Jungkook supposes. The airy, light atmosphere within the four walls he’s come to share with you. Laughter and shared glances, despite the stack awaiting you — because it signifies far more than paperwork.
Which is why it surprises him when a subtle switch occurs, suddenly and unannounced.
When he looks at your fingers lifting a paper, he can’t say what you’re seeing, but your ardour falters a little. Crooning dying, expression not matching the smile on the pictures you spoke of.
Delicately, you trace the edges of the document before putting it back down, aligning it with the rest of the pile. Pushing the whole thing to the side, you sigh, and he, a silent observer up to this moment, asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Hm?”
“You’re thinking about something. And I don’t like it when you’re quiet like this.”
“Oh… It’s nothing.” The shrug is subtle and unconvincing, and the tight shutting of your lips so telling to him. He senses the tension before you finally reveal, “Dad called today. And…” He waits; another shrug. “It’s nothing. He just asked how I was holding up. And that he’s sorry things had to escalate on Friday.”
Ah. Odd.
Jungkook would never say it to you: Because he has never been one to talk families down, sever a bond by voicing his opinion, even if the relationship’s already hanging by a thread. No… he’d never say it to you.
But.
There’s a dull realisation in the back of his mind; and it evokes quiet anger in him. That… there was always a potential anchor inhabiting the same house as you, but never serving as one.
Hidden behind your mother’s back, letting it all pass — probably for you to build character.
Jungkook has always assumed that his dad did just that, too. Throwing him into the world without support, letting a seemingly irresponsible teenager, and then young adult, experience hardships in order to learn how to deal with them.
In contrast to your father, his dad wouldn’t apologise to him… yet, in the end, morally and emotionally, both your families fucked up big time.
“Oh…”
You nod, elaborating, “He wanted to know if I was going to visit him. But I need a bit of time.”
Right… thinking about it, you haven’t seen your father in a while. And your mother hasn’t blown up your phone since Friday evening — when you came out of the glass building, with equally glassy yet hopeful eyes.
You truly must have let off steam in there for her to back away.
“Is that why you were saying you’ll be rushing to the house after work?”
Because as far as he recalls, you’ve been talking about gathering your stuff immediately after working hours — or on Saturday mornings. Never any other time. Because you know they won’t be at home then.
“Yeah,” you confirm, “I feel horrible neglecting him like that, because he seems to be glad that I’m happy, but…”
Your lips point downward; you clear your throat, but it doesn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “I just wish he’d defended me sometimes. Dunno. Maybe he did and I just don’t know about it? And it never worked? It’s what I like to think.”
God…
“Because,” you continue your vent, “he was strict but not like her, and… Sometimes he did recognise bullshit when he saw it. I’d hear them talk and he wouldn’t always see eye to eye with her. But a bit more open support would’ve been cool, you know?”
Shit, how it angers Jungkook.
The knot in your throat; how you avert his gaze; the looming tears. It all angers him.
He moves his hand to your knee, keeping his voice and heart steady for you. Simply uttering, “Baby…”
“And… and then today he suddenly seemed… I don’t know.” You take a deep breath, shaking your head. Your blinking fastens, and you vehemently dodge Jungkook’s eyes. “I dunno how casually he said it, but he told me he was proud.”
The way you emphasise the word… as if it’s a stranger to you, like you’re trying it out…
Jungkook sighs, heart and chest heavy, muttering so kindly—
“Oh, sweetheart… Ah, come here—”
His palm shoves the papers aside some more, uncaring, and brings you closer to his body. Yearning for your embrace, he shifts with you until your legs wrap around each other. Fingers slither to your chin to raise it, and then pinch your cheek adoringly.
The bedroom light falls into your sparkling eyes, shiny with the dampness. You’re not crying, but you sniffle for a moment.
“Of course he is,” he whispers, keeping your face upright, “what’s there not to be proud of? You’re so fucking cool.”
“…You think?”
“Of course I do,” he repeats, “you’re so inspiring and smart and funny and awesome. I’m the proudest of you, in fact.”
The heat increases beneath his palms as your cheek smoulders, pupils promptly softening. As if the outline of your irises is blurring, relinquishing the harder, unwanted emotions.
“I could probably live with just that,” you respond, managing a tender laugh and mixing it with your sniffles. “But…”
But perhaps, the heavy heart won’t get entirely lighter just yet. And Jungkook’s turns half blue at the same time as yours.
“I wish my mom could react the same way instead of being so… stubborn. I mean, it’s a good thing that I want to stand on my own two feet! And aside from work — she also saw me in the summer, and she knew how I felt without you. She sees how I feel now with you, too, and yet.”
You puff out some air, as if you’d been dying to rant; and he imitates the release of a quiet breath, but for wholly other reasons.
Because…
Along with the melancholy drenching your voice, the guilt shoots an arrow to his heart. Guilty about this damn summer; about the days he nearly gave up on you. If he could encase your fractured soul in a quick cure…
“I’m sorry she keeps hurting you, baby. And… I’m sorry you cried. Being sad over a loser like me was the last thing you needed, so…”
He’s half joking; lifting the corner of his lips. You seem to know, too, because you match his smile — still pledging, “Being sad sucked, but… you’re right here now and. I do need you.”
It’s so easy for you to tinge his entire being in a bright pink. Because somewhere in the depths of his mind, he admits that he wanted to hear this. That he wants you to need him as much as he needs you.
“And I’m right here to stay,” he promises. “Even if she doesn’t. Okay?”
“Yeah… yeah. But maybe someday she can be proud, too.”
It’s fucking you up more than he thought. Probably more than you thought.
“I’m sure,” he guarantees, “some people accept their mindsets as the only truth, angel, but one day she’ll come around.” You only nod. So he adds, “I’ll fix this with you.”
“Fix it?”
“The issues you deal with. And the ones I deal with. You and I together, okay?”
Your motions are slow. The nod is barely one; maybe because his hands refuse to establish yet another distance to your skin. And maybe because you’ve tired yourself out once and for all. The slight slouch is telling; your body needs some rest.
Enough with the papers.
“You know… somehow, this excites me,” he says. The grin emerging confuses you for a while; the flicker in your eyes is as delightful as the moment. “Pulling out all the stops and making things better with you, I mean. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”
And he’d know. Because if he’d been comfortable enough, he would’ve long ago; he had the chance to. Yet, the courage never surfaced — until with you.
His touch drops from your face to the side of your neck, shaking you gently before he says, “You excite me all the time.”
Shouldn’t be news to you — bearing his unceasing kisses and everlasting words in mind, his bliss is difficult to miss. There’s barely any containing it around you.
And maybe you know what he means; because judging from your dreamy smile, you can’t seem to muster any self-control either. Feeling the joy bubbling, growing, simmering in the middle of your stomach until it explodes and you—
Wrap your arms around his neck abruptly. Attacking him until balance abandons him, falling back onto the bed before you land on top of him. The hug is crushing, your body pushing into his with every sliver of fondness you can summon.
He could say something. Blurt more admissions dipped in honey. But he doesn’t question it; doesn’t comment on it. Only relishes the silence and your warm cheek against his chest, cuddling in.
And sighs in contentment.
A WEEK LATER
You’re messing up the structured system he established for himself.
The groceries are scattered in the cart; instead of playing Tetris with them, as he usually does, you’re piling them up randomly, unaware of the mess.
Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell you that the pack of eggs isn’t supposed to be balancing on top of other products like this. Because holy shit, you are buzzing. Not because you don’t know how to grocery shop, but because of the conversation this morning.
”I've got a whole list in my head. We’ll need a shit ton to make this work tonight.”
You were taming your hair as you listened; watching your reflection follow your movements — and as he readied himself for the day, Jungkook watched from afar.
You’d decided that for now, a week was enough to mourn the loss of whatever familial bonds could’ve been. Just last night you told him that starting this new life means an opportunity to gradually leave your sorrow behind, even if it takes some time.
And in celebration of the new arc you’re so joyfully approaching, you’d decided to host a housewarming of some sorts.
Jungkook’s friends already know his place; but the pronoun has changed. This time, you want them to step into your apartment, too.
Securing a hair strand with a clip, you asked, “Do we have it all here?”
“Not everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.”
“Ohhh…”
Your fingers floated to the edge of the wash basin. You held it in your grip, leaning over it a little, staring into your own eyes quietly. He checked with another step closer to the bathroom, glimpsing at the expression in the mirror.
Calm, but thinking.
“What is it?” he asked, pulling his jeans’ zipper close.
“Uhh. Do you need help?”
“You should rest. You’re already doing so m—”
“No, no, I mean…” You let the sink go, folding your fingers. Inhaling for just a moment when your eyes fell on his bare torso. “I want to go grocery shopping with you. It’s Saturday and I have nothing to do until tonight. So… Please don’t go without me?”
The big eyes and saccharine question went straight to his heart; like one of Cupid’s pointy, sharp arrows targeting the exact middle of the organ. What else could he have done other than breaking into a breathy laugh — wide grin building a lively start to the morning.
“Of course. I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”
You raised a triumphant, tight fist, and he shook his head in delight. Diminished the distance between your bodies, a hand pressing into the back of your head before pulling you to his lips and placing a kiss to your forehead. Right before—
“Hey— ouch?”
It didn’t hurt; but he still felt the fingers pinching his tiny nipples — and heard your cheeky, “Why are they always hard? And why are you always shirtless, Jeon?”
He didn’t argue that changing into outdoor clothes didn’t count. Instead, the bright golden light you cast in his mind distracted him, taking him back.
You’d said that to him before; everything has changed since then.
“Why are you smiling like this?” you ask, holding a pack of four yellow apples in one hand, red ones in the other.
“Hm?” Jungkook rubs a hand over his cheek, feeling the glee in his countenance before flattening the dimples. “It’s nothing. I’m just liking how much fun you’re having.”
“I am! But most of all because I can’t wait to cook with you today.”
Your words instantly conjure pictures of a potential evening; idyllic ones mixing with utter chaos. Rushing and cutting and serving — but for one of the very first times together. Only milestones ahead.
A higher pitched gushing threatens to fall out of Jungkook, right here in the fruit aisle. But instead, you raise your hands again, asking, “Which ones?”
“Hmmm… neither. Let’s get the green ones.”
You let your arms fall, a finger pointing towards him, and say, “Ohhh. Good call.”
And then you proceed to complicate the cart labyrinth again. What a savagery. Jungkook waits until you’ve turned around and works on reorganising again, following his system. Then, he thinks — this could be draining, but it’s not.
Because you keep each other entertained. And neither of you bothers about the gapes you receive.
Not when he leans over the cart, shoving it in teeny tiny steps; continuing when he realises it makes you laugh.
Or, when you cheer once you find something the two of you like that nobody else enjoys; accompanied by exclaimed Ohhhhs and Haaas. And not as you argue when you find something to disagree about.
It seems that you do not dig dates, and he, the friendly omnivore, takes playful offence in that. He teases you across half the supermarket until you turn the tables, picking up an eggplant and interrupting him with a,
“Look! This is you.”
The roll of his eyes only veils his amusement a little, he’s sure. Because your enthusiasm remains steady, including the impish pull of his beige Supreme beanie over his eyes and a kiss to his cheek that paints the spot in a rosy dust.
Pointing to a glass of honey, Jungkook soon fights back, “And this is you.”
“…This is way too sweet and I do not know how to counter it.”
“Romance tends to make people speechless, darling.”
Your expression resembles an ellipsis; whether you’re out of answers or overwhelmingly affected by the selection of his words, he doesn’t know. He knows he’d short circuit if you ever said that to him.
“Fair,” is what you settle on, though, “wouldn’t I know what brain outages your romantic ass causes.”
You’re the model definition of a cheesy, movie-esque couple. Taehyung and Eun differ from the nature the two of you showcase; they already threatened to bring paper bags in case Jungkook and you overdo it tonight.
Can’t blame them. The world is certainly pink-tinted when you bicker and jest at the register; or when you hurry through an Ikea — courtesy of your last minute plan to buy plants — to make it home and cook in time.
Just this morning, you were daydreaming about the concept of furniture retailers and how such shops allow building a home with the most special person.
And then, as if wanting to clarify your sentiments, you turned in the car, facing him as you struggled with the belt, just to say, “Which is you for me. I’m building a home with you.”
Jungkook’s legs still melt into a puddle whenever he remembers the softness in your words, and the puppy gaze you threw as you finally leaned back in your seat.
Which is why it’s such a shame that the clock is ticking so relentlessly.
Because your initial elation turns into disapproval only for today as you wade through the labyrinthine, time-consuming design the store is so popular for. Trying to keep up with Jungkook’s pace and hastening across the rooms.
And even then, neither of your laughter ceases; you turn the most stressful situations into deep solace. The pressure soon gives way to a calm satisfaction the moment your apartment door opens.
You set up the few plants you brought; some under the window, some on the desk in the bedroom, right next to the Beauty and the Beast rose, and a jade plant in the living room. For good luck, you said.
And then, after resting for five minutes and abandoning all further breaks, you start work in the kitchen. Which proves as cooperative as he thought — that is, until you get into a friendly argument about whether to do the dishes now or later.
“One of us keeps cooking. The other washes up what we don’t need anymore,” Jungkook explains, repeating it over and over.
To which you keep defending, “Or. One cooks one dish. The other handles the second. And we finish cooking faster and then do the dishes together.”
His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he whines, “It won’t make much of a difference!”
“Well, if it doesn’t, then we could do either!”
“BUT… it might get crowded if we work at the stove at the same time, babe—”
“You just don’t trust me with th—”
“Keep yelling at me like that, and—” Jungkook interjects, and you wince a tiny bit; but he continues a mere, barely lasting moment later, “and I swear I’ll kiss you.”
Beat of silence. Your eyebrows are still furrowed. And then, amidst the agitation, you erupt into laughter. Blend it with the chortle he can’t suppress, either.
To Jungkook, the sound is akin to a song — and he could spin the record all day long.
Spoiler warning — you do not kiss. But the lively chuckles and free-spirited conversations dye the atmosphere and flavour it. Its sweetness feels like a feathery kiss, too.
And whether it’s that very unlimited sense of familiarity, gradually growing, or your unwavering teamwork at last — you’re surprised when the late afternoon transforms into an early evening, a dimly blue, cloudy sky already changing into different shades of grey.
Time passed fast; but the hour-hand on the clock still hasn’t quite moved to where you’re waiting for it to settle. Because back in the living room, you’re still an hour early. Your guests are invited for around six, but you can’t say when they’ll actually show up.
Seems you wrapped up work at a convenient time. Better now than late.
You kiss your teeth in the middle of the room, scanning it for something to do. It’s clean; pretty. Plants set up, table wiped, cushions neatly set on the couch. So you remark, “We were so stressed, I didn’t think we’d be finished already.”
Jungkook, already plummeting onto the far end of the couch, pats the spot next to him, saying, “That’s good. Gives us a bit of time to relax. Anything you wanna do?”
But you don’t sit down yet. You watch your manspreading boyfriend lean back, big inked hand wrapping around the remote control. You look at the open button of his shirt, and the singular hair strands; the side parting. The mole under his lips and the big eyes.
He just doesn’t notice it until the lack of a response continues.
“Huh?” he voices again, finger stopping over the power button before his eyes flit back to you.
You look deep in emotions and distracted; if he could guess, then even… ferociously yearning. He waits with a dancing heart until you admit boldly, “There’s plenty I can think of that I wanna do right now.”
You fold your hands behind your back, chest out a little, legs crossing. You curl your lower lip in, nibbling at it. It affects him, and you know. He sucks in air, a hand on his thigh. Blinking at you, and then poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.
He leaves out a puff of a tiny laugh, shaking his head a bit. Nearly succumbing to the thought that…
Perhaps there’s an activity you can indulge in before they come, right—
Wrong.
Jungkook, no matter how tempted, throws another glance at the clock, and argues, “Stop thinking of eggplants. They’ll probably be here soon, so your smooth-talking is not allowed to work!”
Your body relaxes, back in its prior position; you pout for a second. “Fine. Then I’ll get dressed before anything else.”
Jungkook sighs in relief — close. Way too close. Tonight might just stretch his jeans if you keep this up; his blood is already abandoning his brain and putting its attention elsewhere.
But you’re well-mannered in the company of guests, right?
Only one way to find out — an hour to go.
Jungkook heaves his body off the couch merely ten minutes later.
And maybe even that was too early.
Maybe he should’ve waited for you to trudge out of the bedroom; or should’ve gotten his clothes and changed somewhere else. Because when he follows your steps to find a new attire for himself, too, you’re sitting at the very edge of the bed, dress already on.
It’s not too posh; rather casual. A green cotton one, pulled up to your hip because you’re dragging transparent tights over your legs. A patch of your thighs is still visible; part of your ass on display where your panties don’t reach. Skin far too empty without his kiss on it.
He doesn’t know how you do it; but within a moment, you elicit a plethora of emotions in him. Burning desire; comfortable warmth; cosy affection. You look so cuddled in in that autumn dress.
Pretty. So gorgeous; you’ll drive him insane.
But the craze doesn’t manifest in hunger this time, but gathers in a single breath, let out in a sigh. Which… makes you recoil. Your hand briefly bolts to your chest, eyes rolling, head shaking. You murmur a quiet, “Babe…” before resuming the task.
Jungkook watches as you lift your body to pull your tights over your ass and the dress back into place, and then reaches out a palm to you; urging yours to settle in it.
Still trapped in a cube of daydreams, he tugs you in until your grace radiates toward him, and then tells you—
“My baby is the prettiest ever. Ever, ever.”
You take his fawning with glowing cheeks, smile so unbelievably worth being alive as you answer, “Your baby isn’t sure if she deserves this so suddenly, but… thankful either way.”
Your voice is an endearing mix of soft and enthusiastic. The combination that breathes life into a room. You’re so…
“God,” he says, squeezing your hand, lifting his other fingers to touch the hem of your dress. Fixing it albeit already perfectly sitting. Then looks up; eyes dropping to your lips. “Maybe you were right. Want to kiss you stupid right now.”
And he would; he wouldn’t hesitate if you didn’t move a palm to his face, pressing a thumb to his plush mouth. Telling him, “Nope, too late. The make up wasn’t easy to do. And dark lipstick is hard to remove.”
Fuck, not when he’s kissing it off…
“I…” Gulp. “Fine, princess.” He removes your hand from his face, towing you back into the living room. “Then, what do we do now? Movie?”
“Nah… It’s so hard to stop watching. Gonna kick them out again if we start now. What about… hm.”
Your eyes dart across the room, and Jungkook takes the moment to suggest, “Or we could have some soju already? Or wine, beer, whatever?”
“Or…”
You wait. Jungkook follows your gaze to the back of the room, surprised when it falls on a peeking canvas behind another big plant pot. Oh — that’s still there. He never took it out, and neither did you. Protecting his privacy, probably.
But perhaps it’s lighting a bulb over your head, because you soon ask, “Or. Wanna give me a house tour?”
“A house tour? Don’t you know every corner already?”
“Yeah but,” you shrug, rounding the couch with him in tow, “I wasn’t always here. You organised the place the way you wanted to when you moved in, so you’d know it better. Like…” You point to the turned painting, “What’s that?”
“That’s… Remember the drawing I had in my notebook? Of Gureum?”
Quite a while ago. You visited him for the first time in Namjoon’s studio back then; recalled it at the exhibit, too. Crazy how sentiments have changed. From a silly play-pretend game to damaged souls to this…
You nod.
“Yeah so,” he continues, “I painted him on a bigger surface.”
Your eyes shoot open, genuine interest in them. “Oh? Can I see?”
“Of course.”
It’s not his best work, honestly; but it is close to his heart. A piece he still wants to improve and feature in his own exhibit once it rolls around. The colouring process will be interesting; it’s barely an outline yet.
But you seem to perceive it with utter fascination and sheer joy. Because the moment Jungkook heaves the canvas up, turning it for you to see, your chin drops. You gasp, mumbling under your breath, “You’re kidding!”
“…Do you like it?”
“It’s so cute! This is…” You lean in, taking in every detail; commenting on it. “He’s a fluffball! Oh my god, the tongue peeking out. He looks so happy.” When you look up into his eyes, Jungkook’s heart does a thing; and his cheeks the other thing. “You painted him from memory?”
“Mmh, maybe a couple details? But I got most of him from a picture my aunt sent me a while ago. He’s been looking much older these days and I wanted to capture him before he ages even more. Made me miss him so much.”
“Awwh, Kook…” You pout. “I really want to meet him one day.”
He looks at you with something knowing and so telling in his gaze; he feels it unveil through his own stare. The knowledge he possesses about something, and that you don’t.
You might notice hints of it, but you don’t question it. Listening when he responds, “You will. He really is a fluffball and remembers me even after months and years of distance.”
“I love him already.” You lift, straightening your back. Watching as Jungkook sets the painting back before you add, “Okay. House tour. What else?”
“Hmm. Let’s see. Come.” He leads you the short way to the cupboard, and you follow in tiny steps, like an explorer running from one treasure to another. So exhilirated. So fucking cute. “Look, these— and don’t laugh, these are precious to me.”
“Laugh?”
“…These,” he opens the cupboard doors, reaching to the far back, behind some decoration; and pulls out a deck of cards. “Are my Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I used to collect them long ago, but I’m never throwing them away. Also—”
Your lips are parted, your eyes focused. Eyebrows shooting up gently, delighted when he takes out another small object from the back.
“My Jiraiya figure that I got for my tenth birthday.”
“Holy shit… I really never bothered looking in hidden corners.” Yeah… but now that you are, you’re making this place your own, too. No, it already is yours, the way he is. He swoons at the thought. “This is so cool. Why would I laugh?!”
“Ah… Were you a Naruto fan?”
You tilt your head. “A little. More into Detective Conan, though.”
Jungkook wonders… How foolish might his smile be looking right now?
“You… keep surprising me, angel,” he says — and you seem to like the praise.
Because you light up, forefinger touching his chest as you reiterate, “See? The house tour wasn’t a bad idea at all! Look at us tracking back the path of our souls, too.”
Jungkook can’t help but chuckle. You’re a breath of fresh air to be around; so incredibly tender when you’re yourself. After all those weeks, you’re finally back to who he used to know. Not as sad anymore.
Never sick of the hand-holding, he grips your palm again, voice hushed when he orders, “Follow me, quick!” The mysterious journey leads you to the closet next; back to the quiet bedroom as he playfully shushes you. “I haven’t worn them in a long time, so you won’t know, but… Look, because the secret's out.”
You crane your neck to see what he’s referring to. And when you do, you coo and laugh straight away. Endlessly enraptured when he claims, “Wahh. They were my super-favourites.”
Iron Man socks. Obviously worn a hundred times; so, so him.
His bunny teeth flash in all their glory when he smiles, dimples out and corners of his eyes crinkly. He feels you hold his hand tighter, and you pick the most supportive tone when you say, “You need to start wearing them again! It’s so sweet when you’re geeky.”
“Maybe you’re right.” He stuffs them back, though not to the very bottom anymore; places them on top for easy access. And then, he continues, “Okay. One more thing for the glorious house tour, and we’re done. It’s another important sight, actually.”
“Ah. Oh?”
Barely a couple seconds later, you’re back to where the trip started. Following suit when he kneels near the table; swift beam spreading over your face when he clears his throat and narrates, “This… Is where I painted on you. Not on another medium, but I painted on you. Remember?”
You must. He rarely abandons paper and his usual colours like that; but you were the most marvellous masterpiece he ever covered. The most outstanding canvas he’s ever drawn on…
“I do.”
Your gaze falls sideways; are you remembering the same heart on your waist that he does? And how he touched it; smeared it under the shower water. How your back pressed into his chest, unknown what feelings you truly harboured, but never failing to showcase his own care to you.
The kisses on your shoulder. The whispers in your ears. The plea for you to stay.
“Of course I do. It was so calming,” you add, “and so beautiful.” You touch the soft carpet, plucking at its tiny fibres. “You consider it a sight at Jeon manor?”
He snickers at your choice of words, but then inhales, and very sternly says, “Yeah. We also had sex here, so it’s forever tainted. I remember it felt… like… we should do it ag—”
“Now it’s you saying these things!” You move a fist to his bicep, pushing against it lightly. “Be serious. Be romantic! It’s not the time to make me want you.”
“Oof, hey… For the record, I was being romantic! And also, I only want you more when you’re being sweet,” he rubs the spot you grazed; he barely felt it, “but seriously. I still remember everything I felt for you. And how crazy you drove me… and how vulnerable you were.”
You’re still stroking the fur of the carpet as you look into his eyes; and he sees a molten puddle in yours. Only one side of your lips lifts, but the softness in your voice is genuine, “I think I still am. Just a lot safer than before.”
“…Good. Me too.”
And that’s all.
That’s all his mind comes up with, because all the words and infatuation are locked in his heart, moving to his fingertips when he inches closer. He raises them to your chin. Knees near yours and close the yawning distance until your lips are a whisker away.
Funny — how his strong chest holds a feeble heart. Bursting and aching, full and yearning.
If he could, he’d stay here with you forever, just like that.
But. The two of you have a party to host.
And the suddenly ringing phone reminds you of it. Makes you flinch until your noses and foreheads touch, and you laugh, rubbing them as you tap the couch for the device. The two of you lean against the sofa, cosy on the carpet as you pick up.
He hears Eun’s voice announce through the phone, “We’re all here. Just a warning, because you better not be naked.”
You shoot a glance toward Jungkook. He snorts, and you start, “Why would we…”
“‘Cause we’re early for once. Taehyung didn’t need as much time with his hair today. So be prepared.”
Jungkook nods in confirmation. Taehyung usually needs to be told an earlier time when invited to an event or get-together.
There are sounds in the background, and he readies himself to register another voice. But not a second later, the doorbell chimes. Guess the two of you will have to wait with the bare devotion.
Because for now, it’s time to indulge the gang. Let them stream in with vibrant greetings, wrapped gifts, endless booze and sweets as irresistible as you.
Jimin is the only guest coming in a little later, rushing straight from his shift. And Jungkook recognises quickly that he’s not Jimin’s first pick for conversation after a timid handshake and parting of ways.
There’s no enmity between them; Jungkook reckons it’s more the awkwardness from the Blue Night still lingering between Jimin and him. Maybe even some leftover guilt about how he used to perceive the younger man.
At least, it’s strange when he, eventually, does take a seat on the couch, separated from Jungkook only by a healing Yoongi. You’re busy talking to Eun, and Taehyung has escaped to the bathroom. Yoongi maintains a healthy atmosphere with casual talks and soft jokes.
But even if somewhat reluctantly, it seems that Jimin is at least trying when he leans back on the couch, enabling a better view to Jungkook as he asks, “Did you paint that one?”
Jungkook follows the finger pointing at the wall next to the window; nothing too out of the ordinary. Just colourful flowers. It’s okay. Better this than nothing to warm up to each other.
Turning on the couch, Jungkook waves a hand in denial as he explains, “Ah, no, no. She bought it because she thought it’s cute.”
“But you could paint that, too,” Yoongi argues, followed by Jungkook’s shy, “I guess.”
“Ohh, okay, okay. Well, since we’re talking about it. Even if you didn’t paint it,” Jimin says, “been wanting to tell you that I loved your exhibit stuff. Uhm, Eun showed me pictures. Hope that’s okay.”
That’s surprising. Jungkook considers himself gifted in this sense, but— having someone actually boast about his work for him makes him feel… accomplished? Appreciated.
No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.
“Yeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.”
“It’s a pretty place, by the way.”
Yoongi wiggles a finger back and forth with an agreeing nod, snacking away, a quiet listener for the time being. There’s something amusing about it; makes Jungkook smile as he tells Jimin, “Thanks. And I’m glad you could come. Can imagine work’s a lot, so…”
“Yeah. No worries. Everything for our girl.”
Jungkook hums as the chat dies and the awkwardness returns. And then, he remembers—
Speaking of — where are you again? Still in the kitchen? Seems so. Or at least, moving away from it bit by bit.
Immersed in a conversation, holding the frame of the living room door, at the threshold to the anteroom. You’re discussing something with Eun, your expression focused. He can’t really make out your words because of those exchanged between Jimin and Yoongi, but…
A moment later, you do look at him. And then away again immediately — as if he caught you. A motion of your hand waves whatever cryptic topic off; and intrigued, Jungkook comes to a stand.
In vain — because Taehyung returns the same moment, babbling about whatever Yoongi just said. And you use the opportunity to march into the room, asking Jungkook to help you set the table for dinner.
To his chagrin, most of them offer to help momentarily. Taehyung swarms around you, insisting on plating, making it impossible for Jungkook to find a moment to ask what your conversation was about. And eventually, he gives up — if it’s important, you’ll tell him.
So for now, he relishes the evening your friends grant the two of you. They compliment the food, narrate short and long stories, watching Jungkook and you unwrap the gifts — board games from Jimin, cutting boards and wine from Yoongi, a stylish, modern thermostat from Taehyung and Eun.
The ecstasy overflows, the screeches probably making your neighbours think of you unhinged. Wine spills on the table; curses exchange; laughing turns into crying.
If anything other than this life is considered good, then Jungkook doesn’t crave that goodness. The unbridled chuckles, and your never-dropping smile are beyond everything twinkling and gorgeous already.
And he’s happy, too. Elated when you cover your mouth when you laugh; and overjoyed when you stand at the window after dinner, leaning forward. Breathing in the autumn air.
Jungkook follows once things wind down and the guests agree upon an appropriate volume. He mimics your stance, lower arms on the windowsill and hands hanging relaxed.
His fingers graze the withering flowers in the window box. They’re slowly dying by the hands of the approaching cold, and the rain keeps overwatering them. Yet… they still let it hurt them, holding on for as long as possible.
So in love with the shower.
It’s almost a bit tragic.
Jungkook refocuses, turning to you and asks, “What are you doing?”
Your head moves to the side, and you kill the remaining distance between you. Step close until you’re nearly nudging his elbow.
“Just,” you nod into a haphazard direction; into the outside world, “looking at the rain. Got a bit stifling in there.”
“Yeah.” Jungkook throws a glance over his shoulder. “Also, I think they’re getting drunk.”
“Mhmmm. Except Jimin. Poor him is looking at the alcohol so longingly. Did you notice that he didn’t drink?”
“Someone has to drive them home, and Yoongi with his healing injury is out. I offered, but Jimin insisted on taking care of them and not, as he said, bothering us. Super thoughtful, really.”
You smile, nodding along before you silence. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of; or what you’re seeing. Maybe you’re truly only revelling in the rain; contrasting it with the sunshine you radiate.
Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.
In the midst of the tranquil evening, your gape strays from the drizzle with a blink. It descends to his twirling thumbs, and then moves along the length of his arm. Jungkook notices your attention from the side, but only turns to look at you when he realises what you’ve fixated on.
You gesture towards the hues and outlines on his skin, delicately touching the writhing snake as you say, “Want a tour for them, too, if you’d ever allow. I imagine it could be fun.”
“Tattoo tracing?” His lips move into an endeared smile; you look so fascinated. Like you’re seeing them for the first time. “I’d be down. I could even…” His fingers journey to yours, gently leading them to the flowers. “I can even give you a sneak peek.”
“Really?”
“Sure. Look.” He guides your touch over the dazzling orange of his tiger lily. “This is me. Tiger lilies beg for love. I’ve always sought love, too.”
Your eyes change. He knows you see it, too — the urge to never be abandoned again, all the time.
He can nearly see your heart ache. And feels his own thump a thousand miles a second. A fraction of it breaks off and jumps into your chest, making it yours; it does it all the damn time until you hold the entirety of it in the palm of your hands.
Unhurried, he steers your finger further, stopping at the blue tint; clearly hears you draw a breath when he tells you, “And this… This is my girlfriend. She’s even prettier in real life… that’s right.”
For a bit, you’re speechless. Jungkook keeps admiring you in the forget-me-nots for another second, and when you don’t speak on, he meets your eyes. You’re shaking your head, and then — slowly wrapping an arm around his, moving close, head on his shoulder.
From this angle, your cheeks are demanding to be squeezed; eyelashes kiss them softly, your lips tempting curves when you laugh. Jungkook doesn’t get enough of you… and you don’t want to make it easier for him either.
Because, “Shit,” you say, “you were right about pining more when someone’s being romantic. ‘Cause you’re making me want you so bad, in every way. Are you… still up for kissing me stupid?”
“Ahh… babe.”
“I just… You excite me, too, you know?”
“Don’t say these things while they’re here, baby,” he warns, although as tenderly as anyhow possible, “you’ll give me a heart attack, I mean it.”
“Now you know how I feel all the time!” you tease, fingers flicking raindrops into his face out of nowhere.
Jungkook recoils and squirms, taken aback, but it takes him a mere second to play along. He gathers rain in his palms, threatening to toss it into your face; bickering chaos at the open living room window until your damp hands rejoin and delicate digits interlace.
And as he looks at the sad flowers again, the reality of the moment makes him think. How the two of you used to resemble the blossoms in your window box, once enduring the incessant melancholy, too.
Much like the flowers towards the downpour, Jungkook and you reached for each other while being watered by gloom — but unlike the flowers, you’re still sprouting and thriving into something vivid and fragrant. Not beaten by the agonising shower.
The rain hurt me, but I wanted to keep fighting. Because I hoped. Because I adored.
And in the end, him and you aren’t tragic like them. You will never wither — only bloom.
An hour later, the apartment is empty.
You opened all the windows to eliminate the suffocating air; and the hot water running in the sink soothes your cold skin. What a relief to watch the clinking dishes lessen; you sigh at the small amount still left, and Jungkook catches it immediately.
“See?” he teases, loading the dishwasher. Even that seems like a task after such a day; tidying up the living room was more than enough. “Good that we did most of it during and after cooking. It’s so much even now.”
Eyes heavy, you admit, “I should learn to listen to you more.”
He clicks his tongue, skipping a response, and then, out of the blue, says, “Angel… I could get used to this.”
“To me listening to you more?”
“Yes. But no. To you being here.”
You glow up, even though you’re still facing the sink, smile a little hidden, “You need to. Because I’ll be annoying you all the time.”
“Oh, I believe you.”
You hit him with a spoon, wetting the spot a bit before handing the cutlery to him. Delivering a head tilt, he smirks. Amused before he remembers something and asks, “Hey. What were you and Eun talking about earlier?”
“Hm? When?”
“Before dinner. It looked serious.”
You halt mid-movement. Did he catch something? Maybe. But you only insist, “Nothing special. About her graduation… you know, since it’s pretty soon.”
Huh. Doesn’t seem to quite cut it.
“Mmmh. Anything else?”
You feign a thoughtful moment, as if you’ve wiped your memory clean off whatever she said to you. Then, you tell him, “Yeah. I told her how you played around with the recipe and came up with the best dinner ever. And how hot you looked doing it.”
“…You said the last bit, too?”
“No.” Jungkook blows a raspberry before comically pressing his lips into a line, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault. I mean, do you know how attractive is it to be among people and know that this one person is still only looking at you?”
Oh, all too well…
“I would definitely know,” he chuckles. “Shit. You’ve been testing me tonight, you know?”
“…How?”
“All those compliments and ambiguous statements.” You shrug your shoulders in apparent innocence, muttering a small, ”It’s true" before he digs, “Anyway, don’t distract me. Anything else she said?”
Perhaps you’re done playing games. And perhaps you should’ve kept doing just that; because your next answer is a much greater tease.
“…I’ll tell you about it soon enough.”
Jungkook squints, organising a plate into a free spot, playfully disgruntled, “Unfair.”
“Hang in there.”
“Alright. You’re lucky I trust you.”
Your grin is gaping wide, and he attempts his best to ignore it. But when you add an evil snicker to it, regarding him with pure mirth in your eyes, he folds, “What?”
“Nothing. You’re just so cute. You’ll keep acting like you’re digging, but still always know when to respect my decisions. Maybe the bar is low? But I find trust ridiculously attractive.” You throw a longing smile at him, bringing a damp fingertip to his cheek to poke. “And to top it off… You’re so pretty, too, and I’m just… enamoured from all sides and—”
You wait and he uses the moment to wipe his cheek on his shirt. But when you don’t speak on, he spurs you on, “…And?”
“And I want you so bad.”
The plate waiting to be set into the dishwasher drops on the counter. Jungkook stares up, regarding the ceiling with a seemingly agitated look. You don’t know what’s truly whirling in him, so you warily ponder, “…What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Jungkook turns the water off, taking the cups from your hands and placing them in the sink. He shakes his palms off the liquid, and then whispers, “Okay. Later.”
The hold around your wrist is firm, and the tug firmer. Determined, he leads you out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over the light switch; your eyes are wide when you ask, “Wait, we’re not do—”
His answer is predictable; yet, you didn’t foresee it. Because—
“Bedroom. Right now.”
THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION
Unlike you, Jungkook has considered himself a night owl ever since he entered the bustling world of college. Settling in the city was a stirring experience, and the thrill of it, along with a girlfriend, exams and newfound friends, kept him up until the sun rose again.
He enjoyed what he did, too. Loved school, so he didn’t mind the fatigued eyes during lectures. Truly one of the handful of joys that helped rid his head of the brain fog he bestowed upon himself after each long, sleepless night.
And he was an avid participant in classes despite his sheepish persona — they shook him awake, the late afternoon workouts obliterating the rest of the exhaustion. Maybe that’s why he was so reluctant to flake out for the night, too; still energised.
But while Jungkook carried the spirit of a straight-out-of-the-high-school-freshman who disliked falling asleep early, he despised waking up at the break of day just as much.
Would groan, blinking into the sun, with no one to blame for his agitation but him. No matter how deep his fascination for his studies and how quick the fading of his initial irritation — the first few minutes of every day were pure agony.
Jungkook is still a night owl. Still wants the nights to stretch, albeit for other reasons now. But his attitude towards mornings has changed.
There’s a shift in his preferences now; you moved his universe by an inch, altered it so effortlessly. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret rising with the sun next to him. He doesn’t curse the groggy feeling anymore.
There’s a silky touch he seeks every single morning that his eyes open to, lips he follows with his own blindly. You’re a permanent presence now, air and fire to his lungs, and he feels the freshness, feels the burn whenever your fingers brush his shoulders upon waking up.
He won’t need to check in at work for a few hours still; yet, sleeping in would mean losing the minutes that you’re still here before walking out the door until the evening.
He’ll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.
And it’s crazy how none of this requires any sort of effort or pleading from your side. How all you need to do is to breathe and talk and smile and stay.
Those extra moments, no matter how fleeting, grant him a little more time on Earth with you, and he grasps it greedily. Even when you spend it teasing the hell out of him. Or, even when you wake up with scorching cheeks and endearing, high pitched complaints.
Like today.
“I still can’t believe yesterday,” you say.
“It’s okay.”
“I embarrassed myself so hard. Thinking about it, can I really show my face at the wedding? I’ll probably make things worse.”
Jungkook keeps glancing at the back of your head, the loose bun shaking with your movement. Smoothly, his fingers trace up and down your back; a gesture he started randomly and continued the moment you mumbled, “I like it… continue?”
Sat between his legs, you’ve been swaying for a while, both uneasy and amped about the approaching event. And to Jungkook, it’s as sweet as it is frustrating to see your brain fuming like that.
“Come here, baby,” he demands, content when you reverse into him. He wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you to his body, and presses a pillowy kiss to your temple. “You’re overthinking again. I promise you, we’ll make sure you have the most fun.”
“I embarrassed myself so hard,” you repeat, and Jungkook kisses his teeth.
“You’re a clown, I’ll admit,” you whine his name, and he laughs, “but I’m telling you. I know my mom and that was her I-like-you voice. Which I didn’t doubt for a second, by the way. Like, she really seems happy with how my life has turned out, and with whom. As am I. Understand?”
One more kiss to your scalp. He swings you from side to side, ignoring the ticking of the clock. In a few, you’ll be leaving the apartment, and Jungkook will need to kill the hours until he joins Namjoon at work.
He shouldn’t be missing you already; but he still holds you tighter. Tighter until you let out a little groan, a hand on his arm. He can’t read your thoughts or decipher whether his promise helped; because you don’t answer yet.
Only wait for a few seconds, allowing him to wallow in your warmth until you call, “…Jungkook.”
“Mhh?”
“Talking about life and stuff… did you always imagine yours to be like this? Just curious.”
“Like this?” he ponders, mentally intertwining every current branch of his life into one healthily growing tree. He’s liking it. “Well… I graduated. An exhibition ahead that’ll hopefully bring me a step closer to my own studio and profession.”
You hum in pride, tapping his arm as an affectionate reward. He continues, “I do what I love, have some great friends… and I get to spend my days with my favourite person? Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”
You crane your neck to look at him; your lips are so close to his, tilted into a smile that’s so unbelievably you. “You called me that last night, too.”
“Huh? Oh, that’s right. And… I mean it. Like. Now that you’re here, it’s even clearer somehow?”
“…How so?”
“Mmh… whenever I used to get home, I’d think of what to eat and of showering and going to sleep. And when I come home now, the first thing I think of is you. What we’d cook tonight. Or what we might watch or talk about. You’re…”
He feels your chest rise under his limbs; a sigh of fondness as he knows it best.
“You’re the one I want to spend all my time with.” He pauses when you look at your blanket-covered lap, hiding your twinkling eyes. “So it’s clear.”
“You always sound so hopelessly…”
You halt mid-sentence, the touch against your arm tensing — much like his own heart, jumping to the next beat with a heavy thud. You shake your head; Jungkook doesn’t get to dwell in further thoughts… still doesn’t have the words for them yet.
Or doesn’t want to admit them yet.
If he thought about them long enough and arrived at a conclusion, would you think he’s rushing your relationship? Would it scare you?
Better not find out yet.
So he lets you talk and listens, “Anyway. So, is there anything, like… more? That you want to achieve someday? Or that you think of sometimes before you go, that’s still left for me to do.”
How fitting.
Pretending to be sinking into thoughts, Jungkook hums, letting his chest vibrate against your back, and then answers truthfully, “Yeah? Maybe a couple things. We’ll see them with time when I gather the courage to tackle them.”
“Like what?”
“Hmm… am I allowed to say that already?” More simulations, teasing you with a fake distant gaze and a hissing inhale of air. “I’m not sure. You’ll know.”
“Hey! That makes me nervous.”
“No need.” You interrupt his speech with another sound of disapproval, pulling a dorky, infectious chortle out of him; his nose scrunches up. “I’m kidding. I’m talking about all the goals I have for my career. I don’t want to stop, no matter what. Keep going and keep striving for more.”
You nod; someone as hard-working as you would understand. In a sense, you’re a role model to him, too — a sentiment that you, as you have often emphasised, reciprocate.
Yet, you advise, “Just don’t overwork. Think of Icarus! We can’t always get more than more, you know? There’s happiness in satisfaction with what we have, too. But either way…” You angle your legs, pulling them close; cuddling into him more. “I’ve got your back.”
And perhaps that’s one of the gazillion traits he cherishes so much about you.
Your position at work is reputable and treasured, and you could easily push him to work harder, too. Could want him to match your career success, because it’s more or less guaranteed for you.
But you don’t. You stand by his side, prioritising his happiness and mental strength, albeit unaware of how his future might turn out. When you say you’ve got his back, he believes you.
“I know,” he says, lips in your hair, breathing you in. “Yeah… I know.”
“Hmmm… okay,” you move on, “what about me? Do you have any expectations? Certain standards and rules? I just,” you reach forward, tugging the blanket over your chest and his arm, “I feel like that’s something one should talk about. Tell me if it’s too much, though.”
“No, you’re right. But honestly? Is it… is it weird to say that you’ve kinda become a standard?”
“…I— What do you mean?”
“I just mean that… I’m never going to tell you that I expect you to be loyal and kind because it’s the bare minimum, right? Who doesn’t want all that? I know you are, so I don’t need to say it. So I don’t have any other expectations from you; these things are already the foundation of our relationship. Just. Mmh, how do I say it?”
He thinks for a moment, but you’re nodding, as if you’ve already understood. But his thoughts don’t end here; they’re just difficult to word. In his mind, they’re clear, but upon having to express them, he doesn’t quite understand the concept of language anymore.
Curses its limitations.
But then, as emotions gingerly gather to a coherent sentence at last, he tries to explain:
“Rather than adhering to any rules or standards I could have, I feel like you’re building them for me. You make me have a type, you know?” He feels you dissolve in his arms as he taps between your clavicles. “And that’s you. I don’t want anyone if I can’t have you.”
Did he go off track? Possibly. But you don’t seem to mind.
Because your voice is painfully sweet and miniscule when you speak, on the brink of losing the fight against the tremble, “But you have me. Pinky promise that you do, for a long, long time.”
Yeah… yeah, he does. And he’d be damned if he let this go.
Because if he ever did — if he ever so foolishly lost you again after combating these cruel storms, you’d still remain his standard. He’d look for you in each face passing, and in every laugh sounding.
The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.
Does it make sense? He doesn’t know.
And it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right here.
“I’ll take your pinky promises,” he says, overjoyed as he crosses his legs over your shins, peppering more kisses onto your cheeks, the corner of your eyes, on your ear. He speaks in between your sighs and quiet laughs, “What about you? What do you want?”
“I… I don’t think I’ve ever had any expectations either, but. The wedding and—” You hesitate, as if considering dropping whatever you were going to list; and then you start anew, “The wedding made me think, and I— I just want to have so much fun with you.”
“Yeah? Tell me about it.”
“I want all the ordinary things we do to feel special because it’s us doing them. And I don’t ever want us to regret anything, so… I want us to be brave.”
“Brave? Well, you’re already the strongest and bravest person I know.”
“Braver. I want to live without restraints. And I don’t want to overthink anymore.”
Hmm…
Jungkook has seen your jumbled up thoughts before. The pain you cause to your mind sometimes, and the zoned out eyes painting pictures of what you fear the most.
He knows that feeling. Has battled one too many beasts to lessen the ache; even if it’s not always possible. Even if he seeks reassurances sometimes, too. And maybe that’s the prominent and sole reason why he never dismisses your disquiet.
Why push you away if you’re already at an impasse? Why not lead you out of the maze?
“Take it easy, okay?” he soothes, letting his grip around you fall bit by bit to search for your fingers instead. “Restraints can’t beat us.”
“Yeah! I’m hopeful.”
“You should be.” Because thinking of all you’ve fought within the span of a couple weeks… “You’re the first person to show me that there’s no reason to be scared, you know?”
“Then…” You sit up, curling your fingers around his hand, lifting it mid-air in sudden eagerness. “Just imagine how life could go, right? We could go to the ocean. Oh.” You gasp, sucking in air. “Oh my god! The Great Barrier Reef!”
“Ohhh, that’s actually a solid bucket list item. And then, bungee jumping?”
You nod zealously; lacking your fingers’ mobility required to list things, you instead knock your intertwined hands against your thigh each time to come up with something new. Like now, “Cliffs. And northern lights, too. I’ve always wanted to see them.”
Reflexively, you look up.
Stare at the glued-on stars from last night, and the now missing projection you dozed off to. An effective visual lullaby; you didn’t even stir when Jungkook turned it off, tucking you in properly. In your blanket; in him.
“Hell yes,” Jungkook confirms.
“But the first stop’s your hometown… and the wedding. I want to meet your family and be super awkward about it.”
Jungkook laughs, forehead falling forward against your head. He shakes it for a second, and then recalls, “Ah… so chickens and family awkwardness. What else?”
He didn’t expect this to work out before he asked you. Considering you’ve barely started at Novaura, he anticipated gentle rejection. But now that it’s become a certain event in the incredibly near future, his heart pounds every time you mention it.
Because…
You in a dress. You in his house. You, dominating over every single heart that’s dear to him.
And it seems you’ve already thoroughly thought about this, because your answer shoots out of you like a bullet, “Wanna dance with you. And kiss you under the lights.”
“Angel… you’re over the moon about this, aren’t you?”
“…Too obvious?”
You allow a fleeting glance back to him before your eyes fall down to his bare arm, ending in a hand clinging to yours; covered in ink, much like the rest of his right limb. He knows you’re staring at the flowers without asking.
And as if knowing, reading your soul, he doesn’t find himself surprised when you suggest, “And then… one day… What do you think? Should I get a tattoo someday, too?”
“Totally, if that’s what you want. What would you wanna get?”
“Flowers to match? I don’t know. Maybe you can draw on me. Here,” you lead his hand to your thigh, sticking there for a while until you move up to your hip. “Or here.”
He wonders how focused your thoughts are right now. Because if they are, and you’re not fixating on the changes of his skin, you probably won’t register the countless goosebumps under his tattoos.
A giddy sensation spreads throughout his body, collecting in his chest and tummy. Memories of a nearly bare body, painted in his dozen colours returning. And then, pictures of the same hues blurring, smudging.
He breathes an exhale, insane at the thought of kissing those lines. Of lips trailing up your skin, stopping at your hip, dying a pleasant death.
Fuck.
“I… I would. I’ll paint you any day.”
His words come out more airy than intended, fingers itching to pinch your chin, to move your face to his. To slide down the mattress, to kiss your lips swollen, making out with you until the sun sets…
But the world is cruel and too real; the clock still ticks until he realises that freezing in place isn’t an option right now. So he says, “As much as I hate to say this… You should get ready for work.”
You groan; there’s something sweet about your unwillingness to go. Relatable. And it sticks until the exhaustion washes away with each second. Small breakfast in, clothes on, newfound work spirit restored.
Must be a good day approaching.
And you’ve been enjoying the recent ones, he assumes. Despite being so good at what you do, there’s a clear difference in how you tackle a day at Charmante versus at Novaura.
And you confirm it when he accompanies you to the entrance, bidding you goodbye until you meet again later, “What I love most about Novaura is that they don’t feel the need to communicate everything with Mom. They’re their own independent world and trust themselves.”
“Right… You as someone equally independent will fit right in, so they’re lucky to have you there. Makes me wonder, though.” Jungkook pauses, watching you grab your jacket from the wall hook, “Are your Charmante people okay with you being at Novaura so much?”
A COUPLE DAYS LATER
“…I really don’t know if I can do this.”
Well, shit. Wasn’t he ready to strive for more, run endlessly until his feet tired? Where is the dread suddenly emerging from?
Jungkook has barely set his sketchbook down when lightning bolts head for him.
Countering his concern with kissing eyebrows, Namjoon’s full lips purse, dimples gone as he wonders, “What are you even talking about?” — Much at the same time as you utter a threatening, “Shut up,” pastry lifted, ready to throw at him.
Jungkook shies away from the table, ready to dodge your attack; returning when you place the crumbly croissant back on your plate. He presses his lips together before smacking and kissing them, finger rolling the pen over his sketches, but eyes fixated on Namjoon’s notebook.
“I’m serious. There’s so much to do until November, and I… how do I get so much done?”
“But,” Namjoon knocks against the random drawing open on the table, “you already have so much to show. And you can revamp stuff from college, too. Besides, it’s okay to try your best and be scared at the same time, Jungkook! That’s part of a growing artist’s job.”
“But, are you sure I’m a growing artist?!”
Namjoon mutters something under a breath, and you add something unintelligible to the reassuring mix. Jungkook’s worried gaze remains on the rough lines of pencil on paper, teeth repeatedly nibbling his lower lip. Baring his mole.
He closes the sketchbook, staring at the golden, imprinted letters on a dark black background. He’s filled a quarter of it already; the very piece you gifted him for his birthday almost a month ago.
In some way, opening to a blank page serves as inspiration alone. You furnished him with something so simple yet gorgeous; thoughtful engraving to use as a reminder to hold onto his efforts.
But…
Amidst the lasting zeal, he’s been racking his brain. Because. What if he immerses himself in this, spending hours tainting his fingertips in different tints — only to steer towards failure?
What if it doesn’t work out? And he ends up not amounting to much, other than trying his luck online and living on a bare minimum of a salary? Would he start tutoring young, aspiring artists?
And you…
You’re diving into a stable job, well-paid, well-known. If you end up carrying both of you on your shoulders… would you think of him as a washout? Grow frustrated and dissatisfied?
You’ve been repeatedly declaring your unswerving support, but what if you some day do realise that…
Ugh.
He stuck to this passion with the full knowledge he would never fall out of love with it; but now that he’s working for his dreams, the process seems so scary all of a sudden.
“And I’m at the wedding, too…” he says.
He leans back in his chair, moving his pupils away from the paper and instinctively up to you. More concerns threaten to tumble off the tip of his tongue, but when your eyes suddenly flicker with disappointment, his lips shut again.
You blink, unsure, before you ask, “Do you… not want to go? We could totally stay here if you need the time.”
Oh…
Hadn’t you gushed about the event day in, day out now, he would’ve maybe believed your words. And in some sense, you probably do think of the alternative as okay, as long as he profits from it.
But he sees it in your eyes. And not just in yours — he’s been as enthralled by the idea as you. Which is why…
“No,” he responds, “no. We will go.”
Because the prospect of winding down with you has been keeping him sane. Doting on you under the countryside stars, showing you all you haven’t seen before, body to body dancing with you…
He’s not missing out on that, no matter what.
And god knows you need the break, too… especially after the utter hysteria last Friday…
“Kook, think about it. You need to be absolutely sure,” you argue, genuine worry in your gaze; from his side eye, he sees Namjoon nod in confirmation.
“I am. We’ll go, baby, okay?”
You don’t avert your gaze; your mouth closes a little, but you stay unblinking, waiting for his mind to change. He knows because he sees the thoughts floating at the surface of your eyes.
Like you’re still pondering; of course you are. As someone who’s been working hard for their career, even if just for a few months, you’d know. Who’d understand if not you?
The trance lingers between the two of you, and Jungkook lifts his lips, a vow and certainty in his smile. Moment only broken when Namjoon clears his throat and encourages once more, “Give it a shot, Jungkook… Those high-profile people need to see what you’re capable of! I mean, we’re so lucky to have them coming to our exhibits.”
Namjoon gestures randomly, across the small restaurant as he says, “Say what you will about this city, but we lure in quite a few esteemed artists for sure.”
“Who says something about this city?” you ask.
“I do,” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. One thing Jungkook has learned about him is that his flowery mind never rests. Lyrical; not always easy to understand. “I love and hate it. Leaving it, living it.”
He pauses, sipping on his diet coke before smacking the taste away and ordering, “Ask me anytime if you need any help, alright? And be confident.”
“And… what if it does work?”
Your gentle laugh sounds from the opposite side of the table, the straw of your milkshake on your tongue. The rhythmic melody calms something deep in him; perhaps more because he understands your reaction.
You’re just as cute worrying about things that he knows you’d ace.
“Well,” Namjoon starts, aware that Jungkook knows; still annihilating his unease, “the guy is ready to buy your art. If it goes well, he’ll sponsor you. Then, at some point, you’ll be able to afford your own studio and grow as an artist. Ideally.”
“Ah… ah, really…”
”Kookie,” your voice calls; you lean over the round table, shoving the milkshake aside, “don’t worry. And in the most unlikely case that it doesn’t go as planned, know that I’ll cheer you on either way.”
“And me too,” Namjoon raises a hand.
Your finger swings to and fro between Namjoon and you, and your expression changes from empathic and soft to the sweetest, most gut-wrenching smile he’s ever seen. The apples of your cheeks lift, pupils sparkling when you vow, “We’re here for you.”
He…
He could look at you all day, blinking be damned. Could pour out his emotions every second of every minute of every hour, and it’d still not match the endless letter his heart keeps crafting for you.
Disregarding how much of a shipwreck the two of you were last Friday, his chest has still lightened ever since; an epiphany has never been sweeter.
Because…
The words he couldn’t compose into a poem before are now an ardent confession, with rhymes and a melody and infinite beauty. Roaming his mind nonstop, caught in that baby pink bubble.
When had his senses last heightened this much?
Because somehow, he still feels the damp trail of tears he cried that night. And the heart that beat against your cheek. You, frozen against him, processing his words.
If there are ways to make him fall in love harder, you’ve been presenting them all the goddamn time.
And fuck, it’s been hard focusing on anything but you.
Like, on paying. Or on upholding a conversation with Namjoon — assuring him he’d be back in the studio in a bit as he prepares to bid you goodbye for the day.
To his chagrin, the walk to your car isn’t long. It’s parked at a corner, convenient for lunch dates like these; you promised you’d join one with Joon at some point, and you did. Forty-five minutes passed too quickly. Felt like a moment.
“Namjoon is so nice!” you comment, hands in the pockets of your denim jacket.
You keep swaying back and forth, from your heels to your toes and back. Your smile and movements suggest a free spirit, but your risen shoulders and the shallow crease between your eyebrows drench you in something tense.
You’ve been like that since you suggested staying, focusing on his work.
“He’s so wise, too, really,” Jungkook responds, close to you in case your swinging moves leave you tumbling, “like, a cool mix between calm and dorky. I’ve been learning so much from him.”
“Jeon Jungkook and his love for his mentor. You will never stop talking about him.”
Jungkook shrugs, a hand to the nape of his neck, face warming, “He’s cool, what can I say?”
“Yeah.”
And once again… he sees you gulp. Unsure, pupils flickering. You usually don’t struggle maintaining eye contact. So he soon wonders, “Are you okay? I… I hope you didn’t misunderstand what I said earlier. I really do want to go to the wedding.”
“Hm?” you voice, chin lifting a bit before you dispute, “Oh. No, I believe you. If you say it’s okay, then that’s how it is.”
“What then?”
“What do you mean? Do I really seem like something’s up?”
“A little.”
“Uhm…”
You roll up your eyes as you dig into your thoughts. Scouring your brain for whatever might be meandering in the back of your mind. Hm… seems you’re not fully cognisant of the subtle change in your behaviour, either?
So maybe, it means nothing after all.
Then again. It must be something.
Because in hindsight, he didn’t only notice today, but all weekend, too—
Oh…
Maybe you’re just getting used to the new developments; maybe they’re just making you a bit bashful like him. Maybe…
Okay. Deep breath. He just needs to make it sound like a joke, nothing pushy or odd or awkward because—
“Or is it because I told you I love you? Have I scared you off already?”
He watches your breathing stop. As though flexing an x-ray stare, watching your lungs dry up, air stuck in your throat until it escapes through your nose. Honestly… he’s been feeling the same.
“No!” you answer, tone breathy, pulling a hand out of the pocket to sprightly push at his shoulder. He barely budges. “Of course not. All that does is make me want to faint.”
Jungkook chuckles, delighted when your laugh matches his own. He doesn’t always know how to take a compliment either; but you fix your speechlessness with that glow on your face. Fills his own body with fairy dust, too.
His dimples are valleys when your fingers move to his open jacket, grazing the zipper and filling the seconds with quiet tenderness. He doesn’t know what to say to you until you let the silence prolong and then giggle into it once more.
If he could just dive into your brain. But all he has are his own, messy thoughts.
And those tangled thoughts say—
“Angel… Can I kiss you?” Now his lungs are collapsing, too. Worse, so much worse when you look into his eyes, still so surprised at every sliver of affection he signs. “I really want to kiss you right now.”
No… he needs to. Needs to blossom in this breezy weather. But he won’t tell you that.
He’ll just keep looking at you. One second, two seconds — until you’ve raised your hands to the collar of his jacket to move him closer, soon sneaking your touch further up to his neck. A miniscule and wordless hint of approval, and he basks in it avidly.
Twitching palms hesitate for only the subtlest of moments before they’ve dashed up to your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning in and…
Lock.
A picture of a lock. And of its key.
The first thing to flash into his mind.
Because how do his lips fit so perfectly between yours? When you touch him like this, delicate fingers caressing his jaw, how do you feel so much like a feather? And the damn way you sigh into his mouth… how you reciprocate the kiss.
He will never tire of telling you, telling himself, that you match him just like the ocean complements the shore. And it’s baffling. How perfect this feels, and how right it feels.
You do make the ordinary extraordinary.
Like a kiss that is shared a million times a day, between so, so many people. But you’re moving your lips against his. Holding onto him, tilting your head, soaking in his warmth. Going tentatively, then a bit faster, then slow again.
For the merest moments when your mouths part, you gasp, inhaling before pushing your fingers into his hair, at the back of his head. Then back against him, seeking his tongue; such soft sounds meeting his that he swears he could cry.
Cry about the shiver down his spine and the flutter in the pit of his stomach. About the world becoming a backdrop to everything in the middle of the pavement; and about how his thoughts only revolve around your shared breaths and the feeling of your warm cheeks.
Just you.
You, you, you.
Still too far away. Why do you drive him so incredibly mad?
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He loves you. He loves you.
Under a breath and against your soft pillows, he mutters your name; so airy that he barely recognises his voice. His tongue drags over your lower lip, pecking one more time before he establishes an intruding distance between you.
Your foreheads touch for a transient bit, thumb skimming your cheek. When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and you’re feeble in his grip. And then, he asks, “What’s wrong?”
You swallow again. Take a breath before admitting, “You’re right. There’s something I want to ask you, and I was so stupidly… nervous about it.”
“Yeah?”
“The whole gang, they… they’ve been planning something. They paid for it and all, but they’re waiting for me to give them an answer, so they know if I need to pay them back or if they should cancel or, or—”
He interrupts your ramble with a soft, “Tell me, babe.”
“Okay,” your eyelids finally open up; your gaze is so hazy when you look at him. “It’s a trip. Four days, three nights, during the wedding week.” He hasn’t said a word when you hurry to add, “But, we can leave earlier. It’s a road trip kinda thing to the mountains and the beach and. They want us there, too.”
”Oh.”
“…Yeah.”
“I… Baby.” He moves back, shaking his head. He was careful not to ruin your hair, well aware you have half a work day ahead of you; but he still brushes a strand back. “Were you and Eun talking about that two weeks ago?”
“Yeah. And Tae also said I should be the one to ask because you’d like that. But then things happened and all the stress and…”
“But… even before that. Why were you so nervous asking me about it for so long?”
“Because,” you answer, one shrug of your shoulders, “I wanted to wait and see how you feel about the exhibition and the workload. And you already have limited time because of the wedding and I didn’t want to take away more of it.”
He can’t help but beam; why does this feel… endearing? Mirrors his own thoughts when he asked you about accompanying him to the wedding.
“We really do have the same brain, don’t we?” he asks.
“You’d think we’d learn.”
You say it lightheartedly, yet gnaw on your lips. He tongues the inside of his cheek, keeping eye contact, and then queries, “There’s something else, right?”
“Ah, just.”
You look unsure, trying to make sense of your thoughts, but your uncertainty makes him uncertain, too. So he exhales before he prods, “What? What what? Is it something bad?”
“No! Just. They’ve been wanting to do this since the summer. They never talked about it to me because you and I were… you know.” You kiss your teeth, and he uses the second to whoosh away the aching memories. “But they never cancelled for us, either.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because they’d say, and I quote, ‘Just wait.’ They knew we couldn’t stay away from each other even before we did.” You laugh. “Eun told me that day in the kitchen.”
Even before you did?
Untrue. He knew he didn’t want to live without you the moment you left his apartment, tear-soaked and heartbroken.
“Okay…” he starts, “and you were worried because?”
“Because you always get so sad when I talk about the summer. Explaining the context of the trip seemed hard to me, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”
Oh…
Shit, man.
“You’re… ahhh… my sweet baby.” He wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. But you’re already running out of time, lunch break nearing its end, so he only grips your shoulders. “You know that it gets better after two minutes, no? Because whatever happened, I have you now.”
He flicks your chin as he has been lately; it cheers you up. Makes you smile a bit, conjures the pout away. Adding to the effect when he says, “Don’t worry so much, my love.”
Another inhale. Then, you admit, “I’m sorry. I dragged it out.”
“It’s okay.”
“So… would you come? Do you think you could take some time off work and all? I’d understand if it’s too much.”
“Hmm… Right before the wedding, isn’t it?”
“Mid-october, yes. We could leave earlier!” you reiterate, hellbent on assuring he’s not obligated to do anything. So sweet, how you scratch your head. “They’d drive on. It’s convenient because it’s all in the same week.”
“Mountains and beach, you say.”
“If you don’t like them, we can stay at the hotel and chill together.”
Shit.
His grin widens with each heartbeat; you notice, because despite your suggestions, you sound more lively now.
And yet, it’s funny you’d question all these things like this at all. Don’t you remember damp cheeks and gentle touches?
Just days ago.
How he was still trembling when you left Eun’s complex. How he stopped you before climbing into the car, much like now, mumbling a timid, “Angel…”
And then retracting when his heart combusted. Looking into your eyes, still red, his own mind filled with nervous fear before settling on, “Nothing. Let’s go home.”
Or how you cried in the living room. How you broke down, terrified he might walk away. How his breath quivered, how his head spun, how he felt like he might throw up or faint or scare you off.
The damn sickness in his stomach until he spat the hidden words for the first time. And the pounding of his heart when you responded with a mumbled, “Kook… How.”
And… how his chest constricted at everything that followed after that. Don’t you remember?
In spite of every indication he threw your way — you still worry so much.
Funny you’d be so nervous around someone who wants to see the entire world with your hand in his.
What did you call it again? Wanting to be brave.
So fucking easy with you.
“How about…” he begins, staring into anticipating eyes, hearing a storm of cheers rumble, “going shopping before we leave?”
Your demeanour changes momentarily. The unsure girl, afraid to hurt him, soon finds her way back to her foundation. You light up, a hand over your mouth; your cheeks must be hurting.
You deliver one, short jump and then pull him back in, kissing his lips once before scattering a couple more pecks next to them. He soon finds himself pushing you towards your car, forcing you back to work, but you have a thousand things to babble about.
He’s adoring all the bright stars in your eyes — now he understands how you feel when you see the same universe in his.
It’s crazy. How effort is never required from your side for him to feel that way. How you only need to breathe and talk and smile and stay.
Stay stay stay.
The word sails and wafts through his dazy thoughts like a silent prayer. Begging and begging; pleading to allow him to pour all his love on you, although he doesn’t need to ask. You always let him anyway.
And he guesses he’s using that permission thoroughly. Maybe that’s why keeps craving and burning for more; why he’s been holding you tighter these nights.
His tiger lily pressed against your heart.
*head in hands* they are so crazy for each other, pls 😭 warmth and reassurances and support and bickering literally build the foundation of their relationship and i love them sm :') for some reason the editing process knocked me out, but i still adore this one so so much, and i hope you guys did, too!! 🥺
feedback is always so so appreciated!! you guys are literally such a freaking supportive bunch and have kept this series alive for so long and i love you to death :( here's to the first one this year!! as always, please consider leaving a like, reblog (with or without feedback!), comments and spammm my inbox with everything that's on your mind hehe <3 any kind of msg makes my day!
and nowww!!!!! moving on to cmi: palette and VACAYYYY!!! mwah mwah 🤍
#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#bts smut#bts fluff#jeongguk smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#bts x you#bts imagines#jungkook fic#bts angst#jungkook angst#jungkook
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My aunt found me arguably the most boring looking white collar job to apply to that just so happens to be remote writing related. How she managed to find like the cliche parent job recommendation I have no clue. I applied. But it hilarious. I didn’t think those were as easy to find between the thin narrow line of like what I qualify for and what won’t make me faint and ill.
#mumblings#I mean here I am looking at gigs like I don't think that's applicable but I can do that on top of freelancing so why not#But oddly enough I'm qualified because my current job is in an adjacent field#but far enough unrelated that I don't think there'd be any issues#but like auntie how did you find me the most boring stable job on the planet?#I'm impressed and dad would be proud of you#also they didn't want my portfolio what sort of place is this?#It's the kind of resume submission that makes me feel like overly confident#which tends to lead to me forgetting about them and them ghosting me#Which is fine lol#I'm going to turn back to refreshing my e-mail in the hopes that the other jobs I applied to come back to me#because ohhh one of those was another dream job#and the other one at least would be fun#okay side note the gigs I want to apply for? omg please#I'm reading the pitching and like hey y'all we're on a one on one#a one no and a one yes#so like if I apply to two of these do you think maybe they'll pick me for one of them?#I'd be happy with either#send me away please#to the ocean side#and pay me#Gotta balance the no fun with the fun
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What about the reader found and old radio, they thought the radio was broken but it's not, it's just antique.. when they play it at night time alastor broadcast was heard first they feel something is odd.. but they love to listen to his voice, heck they even like talking to each other, because of this encounter alastor talk about it to rosie, she was happy hearing alastor telling her stories but she feel odd when alastor mention that the person he talks to is a human, Rosie giving him advice to not fall for human because they're different species, and it will make him weak etc.
Alastor feel guilty and agree with rosie advice so he's stop contacting the reader from the radio, he thinks that the reader will be fine but no the reader take it personally.. they thought alastor don't want to talk to them anymore.. it drive them mad and lead to suicide..
So yeah angst :D
Oh Anon. What have you done.
I cried while I wrote that - it took two very good friends of mine to encourage me to post it (Thanks to @macabr3-barbi3 and @mysterypotatoink). But I think it's tragic and beautiful, and honestly - I'm kinda proud of it!
TW: Psychological Trauma, descend into madness, loss of self care and suicide - please take care of yourself and do not read if you aren't comfortable with any of the mentioned! MINORS DNI
Here we go.
❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️
Leap of Faith
You carried in the last box from you banged-up minivan. The old thing barely made it to your new home. A little cabin in the outskirts of New Orleans, a little off the grid and surrounded by the peaceful and whirring bayous of Louisiana.
A fixer-upper, just like yourself.
The online auction had intrigued you the second you found it, the photos were a bit blurry and you knew it was a risk to buy a place you've never set foot in, but something in you called you to get it. The price you paid was laughable, barely making a dent in your savings. Moving states sounded scary and impossible, but you felt oddly calm about it.
You didn't have a lot of stuff to move anyway. After all, you only lived with your late grandmother, and she never really cared for material things. Your parents left you at her doorstep, never to be seen again.
Caring for her in her last, sickness-ridden years had been a no-brainer - it felt like nothing in comparison to all she had done for you - but it also had been a bit lonely.
You had your friends, if you could even call them that, but you rarely saw them - guiding your nan through the last months of her life had been demanding and time-consuming. It had left you exhausted and emotionally unavailable, and after a while, calls and texts ceased, until it was just you and her. You felt lost, as if the world was slowly pulling away from you.
When she finally died, peacefully in her sleep, you felt sad, relieved and drained.
Detached from the city you lived in.
Lost.
So you decided to sell what little you inherited, except for a few sentimental mementos, and move away from it all. To start a new life, a happier one, finally one that was truly your own.
You took the final box inside, setting it on the coffee table and wiped the sweat from your brow. You looked around the little cabin: The roof had some spots that needed a patch, and the wood floors were a bit warped, but it was all yours. No more having to share anything with anyone.
The cabin came furnished, a lot of the stuff was old, but still usable. You figured that would change once you settled in and had a vision of what you wanted and needed to buy. The thought of thinking about no one but yourself made you nervous.
But a little excited, too.
The old furniture would do for the moment, but there was a particular piece that caught your eye: an old, vintage cathedral radio, sitting nestled in between a cracked wooden box and a tarnished, bronze candle holder in a bookcase that was a bit out of place in the tiny space. With a tilted head, you stepped closer to inspect it, drawn to it by it's unique character and beauty.
It looked as well-loved as it looked well-used, the mahogany a bit scuffed, the knobs a little worn from years of being turned. But there were golden details etched into the front, and you traced them lightly with a finger, strangely touched and intrigued.
You were certain the old thing didn't work, but when you plugged it into the nearby socket, static erupted from the speakers, making you jump back. You had to smile, though.
Tonight, you wouldn't be alone. You'd have this little device and a little music for good company.
***
"I'm home!" you announced to no one in particular, as you closed the door behind you, your hands full with overfilled grocery bags full of necessities, waiting to fill your empty cabinets.
The day had been hot, but a welcome breeze of the impending night break cooled the inside of your little cabin a bit. With a quiet grunt you set the paper bags down at the small kitchenette. Your groceries were quickly dispersed, and you put on an apron you saved from your grandmother as you got started on dinner.
You hummed as you cut vegetables and boiled water. It had been a long time since you had cooked, really cooked, your nan wasn't much for eating and had no problem living off of simple soups and toast. When you opened your fridge to get some butter, your glance fell onto the radio.
A little music would be nice, you decided, and you walked over, cleaning your hands on the red, frilly cloth around your waist before you turned the dial. The soft sound of static made you hum in contempt - yup. Still works. A little turn to the left, and the room was filled with a soft jazzy tune, the melody a bit grainy, but you didn't mind that at all. You returned to the stove, swaying your hips to the beat as you worked. The music made you feel at ease, and for a moment, the world seemed to be just right.
Just as the onions began to brown in the pan, the song faded out to a voice. You turned your head to the radio, intrigued by the unusual, eccentric accent of the host. It reminded you of the old, vintage films and recordings your grandmother had been fond of - wasn't it called 'transatlantic'?. Whatever it was, it made you smile.
"Now wasn't that a kick in the head, dearest listener? I sure hope you enjoyed the little musical interlude, but it's time to return to the real show! As usual, my name is Alastor, and you are listening to the best jazz, blues and swing music that Hell has to offer!"
You blinked, a little puzzled and yet amused. "Sure is hot as hell today, strange man in the radio.", you mumbled, chuckling as you stirred the bell peppers under the caramelized onions.
"Today we have a very special guest joining my humble broadcast, it seems. Pleasure to meet you, darling, quite the pleasure!"
"Oh who? Me?" you asked, looking theatrically over your shoulder with batted lashes, shaking your head over your own silliness. You weren't used to talking out loud to yourself, or even really thinking out loud. You were always alone, after all, but the little pretend-play was fun. You laughed a bit, waiting for the host's guest to speak.
"Of course you, little dove. Who else would I mean?"
You gasped, and nearly dropped the spoon as you whipped around, eyes glued to the humming, orange glow of the radio in the dim darkness of your living room.
"What's that? You're surprised, my dear? Don't worry, you're not the only one! This is a first for me, too. Never had a human join my program. I must say, I'm quite intrigued! Tell me, what is your name?"
Your eyes grew wide, and the hairs at the back of your neck stood up. You took a hesitant step backwards and hit the hot stove, making you curse under your breath. Was the heat finally getting to you?
"Don't be shy now, darling. I'm not gonna hurt you, cross my lil' old, blackened heart."
"I-I'm..." you began, swallowing as your fingers tightened around the wooden spoon. "My name is..."
"Yes?"
"I'm... crazy.", you mumbled, rubbing a hand over your face and chuckling a bit. You were just going insane, that's all. Must be the stress, combined with the intense heat. And lack of a companion, a tiny voice reminded you. Yes. Must be.
"Hello crazy, this is Alastor." The host laughed, together with a canned audience.
"Alastor...", you repeated, realization settling in - this wasn't a joke, or a trick of your mind.
"At your service, my dear.", the voice cooed. "Now, I believe you still owe me your name..."
***
You weren't crazy.
Or if you were, you didn't mind. Not with Alastor by your side - or, to be exact, in the radio on your bookcase.
After two weeks of ignoring the cursed radio after unplugging it in a wave of panic on your first night, your morbid curiosity got the better of you. You plugged it back in, and turned on the dial. Just once, you told yourself, then never ever again.
And that's how the two of you got in contact with each other once more. Alastor was as chipper as the first time you heard him, and after a bit of back-and-forth, he promised once again not to harm you, and you shared your name with him. The rest was history. He was very pleasant company. For a demon from hell.
You wouldn't classify the conversations you had with him as a real friendship in the beginning, but you did talk. Occasionally. Mostly in the evenings, when you cooked dinner: He'd ask you about your day and would pry eagerly for a little bit of gossip or new information about the modern New Orleans. When he let it slip that he lived in this very cabin in the 1920's, you weren't stopping with questions about what it was like back in his days, which he, in return, answered generously and enthusiastically.
The first few times he would try to coerce you into making a deal for your soul, casually sprinkling the offer into his small talk, but with enough blunt refusals and a few more days of radio silence (pun intended), he dropped the topic and seemed content on just talking. You, in return, found yourself relaxing into his charming company, your brain happily engaged with trying to wrap your head around him, or better, you tried to come to terms with it.
Weeks passed, and turning the radio on in the evenings became less of an occasional lapse of judgment but more of a routine you were looking forward to. You could tell the Alastor felt the same, his banter became less tense and acted, and a little more genuine.
It made your heart swell in happiness, that someone out there seemed to appreciate your company – even if that someone wasn't human.
Apprehension became amusement, and fascination became friendship. Oddly enough, you found common grounds in a lot of things: A love for cooking and good music. Preferring books over films. Red wine over white. A shared aversion of vulgarity, and appreciation for good manners.
Your nights were cut shorter and shorter, you would spend hours chatting on and on, until the deep darkness of night disappeared into a shade of blue on the horizon. Neither of you minded, at least that was what you thought. Alastor never ended the conversations with you. Either you had to say your goodbyes, or you would just fall asleep after hours of talking on your couch, and awake with a pained back to a shut-off radio. Then, after you'd realize that you would have a whole day ahead of you without hearing his voice, the loss would make your chest ache.
Two months into the 'thing', which was still a strange concept you could barely comprehend, the truth of the matter dawned on you: You liked him. Not just because he was a surprisingly amicable voice coming out of your vintage radio, a lively constant in the uneventful life you had made for yourself in Louisiana - he had become important to you, irreplaceable, even. An essential element to your life. You couldn't imagine how you'd gone so long without him, and yet, here you were, lost without him, scrambling through the hours until you could talk to him once more.
"Something on your mind, darling? You're awfully quiet today."
You held your fork and knife still above the salmon you had just been about to eat. It was the first meal of the evening in a long time where you weren't spending the entirety of the preparation time speaking to him, lost in thought about your blossoming feelings. He had gotten excellent at reading you like an open book - you should've gotten used to it after a couple of weeks of him catching on to every little change in your demeanor and knowing just what to say, when you were feeling happy, upset or nervous.
"Oh, um... no. It's nothing Al. Work had me in a wringer today."
"Is it your co-worker Susan again?" You could basically hear his eyes rolling, making you chuckle. "That name must be cursed, every single soul with that name is a menacing pain."
"Maybe,", you muttered, nibbling on a piece of the roasted fish. "This one is mostly just an ornery old bitch."
"Taking the words right out of my mouth, dear." he laughed.
There's was a comfortable pause, with just a gentle background noise of his ever-playing static and an easy, melodic tune coming from his program.
"Is that really all that preoccupies that pretty little head of yours?"
You blushed, picking at the food with your fork. "Bold for a guy who's never seen me to assume my head is pretty."
The radio crackled with pops and feedback. "Bold to assume I can't see you whenever I want, little dove." he said, his voice strangely deeper, tinged with something you didn't catch at the shock of his words.
"You... what?"
"And I can most assure you,", he purred out of the speakers, "pretty is a well fitting word to describe you."
He hummed in approval when your cheeks gained color, as if he knew his comment threw you off guard and made you turn a lovely shade of pink, but it didn't make it any less enticing.
***
"Alastor, if I didn't know better, I would say you have become smitten with this mysterious gal you're blabbing on and about."
Rosie giggled, hitting his shoulder in a playful, friendly swipe. "When will I meet her? Come on now, you can't hide her forever. Or are you afraid she'll like me better?"
She laughed, and Alastor forced a toothy grin. His long time friend was the only one he talked about you with, and he knew she was intrigued whenever she could smell a blooming dalliance, especially with a notoriously abstinent bachelor like himself. Normally, he would laugh at that thought with a healthy dose of mockery, but he found himself to be less and less aversed at the thought - if it would be you. Impossible, of course.
"Nonsense, Rosie dear, nonsense,", he chuckled, taking a large sip from his coffee cup, a heavy hand bringing up a plate stacked with finger sandwiches. "And I'm afraid you won't meet her for a long time, maybe never. Humans seldom traverse to hell in their lifetime, and who knows if the little darling will take on the trip downstairs?"
Rosie coughed in her tea, her blackened eyes wide in shock. "Human? It's a human girl you've been courting here? Oh, Alastor, you old fool."
Alastor scrunched his nose, "Talking, Rosie, talking is all we do. And yes, she's a human. I don't see the quandary in that. It's just a little fun."
"Well,", she huffed with a small, thoughtful frown. "I would've hoped for a little more sense in you." The tall demonesse set down her teacup with nimble fingers.
"You may not call it courting, but if it quacks like a duck, it's a duck, love." Rosie ignored the indignant look Alastor gave her. "You know as well as I do that such a connection is dangerous to entertain. Humans are fragile and fragile things tend to break. And when they do, the owner mostly follows. You need to break this connection off."
Rosie gave him a sad look as his ears flattened against his head. She would've been more than happy for her oldest and dearest friend to have a partner on his side, someone good and honest who really cared about him, maybe loved him even, as unlovable as he was. But she had to protect him from the silly idea of possibly falling for a living, breathing and supposedly untarnished soul, and the heartbreak that would surely follow. "Don't make the mistake of breaking your heart, dear friend." she smiled, a tint of melancholy hidden in the red of her lips.
"I think it's far too late for that."
She offered a handkerchief, but Alastor waved her off, his smile more faint and close to a frown than she's ever seen.
***
The first day where nothing but static noise came out of the radio, you were irritated but just thought: 'Maybe Alastor has something to do'.
The second day of static you grew concerned. 'What if something happened to Alastor? Was he okay?'.
On the third day, you were panicked. 'Maybe he doesn't want to talk to you anymore! Maybe he met someone in hell, someone that he could talk to whenever he wanted and not through an old, dusty radio?'.
"Please talk to me.", you whispered into the empty room. Your knees were pulled to your chest, and you sat on your couch, eyes fixed on the radio in the bookcase. Your eyes stung with the tears threatening to spill. "Please, Al. I miss you." You shook your head, chuckling sadly. It had only been 3 days, but they'd felt like an eternity. The world had seemed silent without Alastor's constant chatter.
When night fell for the fourth day, you were half asleep, eyes red and burning and tears still staining your cheeks. You talked for hours into the void of your house, the radio now moved to sit in front of you on the coffee table, growing more and more desperate as hours passed. Talking faded into pleading, and pleading into begging.
"Please, I'm sorry, if I did something wrong, I'm sorry...", you mumbled into the wooden furnishing, resting your cheek against the top of the machine, eyes slipping shut with fatigue and defeat. A dry sob slipped past your trembling lips, as your hands desperately grabbed the sides of the antique device.
"Alastor please, don't leave me alone here...", you whispered with the last of your strength, before your body succumbed to your exhaustion, your unconscious mind welcomed the darkness.
If you had stayed awake for just a moment more, you would've, maybe, heard the faint shuddering breath beyond the static rumble. But you didn't. So you had no chance at knowing that, Alastor, listening to every word, saw and heard you at your weakest, and all it did to him was stir the embers and give the blaze an opening for the flames of his anger at fate to rage.
Work had called, again. Susan of all people. Threats were made - either come back to work, or don't come back at all. You smashed your phone. It was useless anyway. What was the point without...
Alastor wasn't here, hadn't answered for seven days now. And you had spent the whole time talking, begging him to show himself, just show himself and tell you what you did wrong, just talk to you one last time and then you'd stop, if that was what he wanted. You became obsessed with the orange light of the illuminated screen, imagining the flickers were maybe signs from him.
You stopped eating, stopped drinking, stopped almost anything, you just sat, in front of the radio, unmoving and unwilling to miss the smallest sign of his return.
Every single minute stretched into agony, and every breath that left your lips made a fresh tear roll down your paling cheeks, until your body couldn't produce them anymore. Then, you cried wordless whimpers and moans, even started praying to an unknown entity.
It wasn't as if Alastor owed you anything. It's not as though you thought the two of you were anything other than two kindred souls, one human, one demon, talking to each other. As a result, it wasn't like you had the right to anything from him.
It was strange to consider the connection the two of you shared: Something more than acquaintances, something closer than friends, and yet never fully crossing the line beyond it. The unpenetrable boundary dividing life and death in between.
Your eyes fell on a large, old crucifix on your wall, staring back at you with pity.
For the first time in days, you left the sofa, took it from the wall and burned it on your gas stove, watching the face of the nailed figurine slowly melt in the fire.
***
It had been eight days of excruciating, one-sided silence.
Eight days Alastor cursed his cowardice as he sat, red eyed with claws digging into his scalp, as he listened to you plead for him to talk - To answer. To do anything. Anything, but leave you alone, he heard, as if the words were spoken right in his ear.
Eight days of watching you slowly detriment from the eyes of the shadows he was able to manifest above, tugging on the very fabric of the world to move you, to keep your mind from going where it shouldn't go.
He kept telling himself it was for the better. His shadows murmured persistent reminders that he should find entertainment in your growing lunacy. He was the radio demon, after all. He shouldn't care if this wisp of a human were to perish, should laugh at your wails of agony and despair.
But Alastor never felt less like laughing. Your dried sobs and pained apologies for things you never did wrong in the first place filled his head, taunting and gnawing on him with feelings he thought he was unable to feel: Guilt and Regret.
It was as Rosie had predicted - he was becoming weak. But weakness was something that should be avoided. Had to be. He knew. Being weak, being feeble, would make him vulnerable, make him into the prey his cruel from already portrayed to the world he had to inherit. He couldn't allow it. Couldn't let his feelings for you bring him down to the levels of the sinners in hell he would tear apart and laugh while he did it.
That's why he stayed silent. Endured it, all of it, every word, cry and plea. Stayed invisible and silent, waiting for you to move on, forget him, shut off and leave the radio, never to turn the dial again. For your sake and his.
When the connection broke, on that eight day, Alastor could feel your resignation, your peace with which your pale hands gripped the electrical cord at it's base to pull. And he was suddenly filled with the awareness of something horrible, like a premonition. It set his already battered, aching heart in an ice cold grasp of dread.
His room exploded in green light as he expanded into his full demonic form, his limbs threatening to pull and burst at the stitches and his smile splitting his face almost entirely in half. He had to reach out, had to reform the connection to the radio one last time, even though nearly impossible.
You were about to do something he would never be able to forgive himself for.
***
Your car broke down just where it needed to. You took the radio out of the trunk, knocking the hood two times for a goodbye, the key safely in the ignition. Maybe some other poor soul would find and repair it, make happier memories with it.
You clutched the wooden device closer and started to walk. Indigo blue faded into black as you looked up to the sky that was sprinkled with glowing, shimmering silver dust, stars blinking in the unimaginable distance. There, but out of reach.
Just like him.
Your dry sob stung in your throat, but you didn't really feel the pain. Your eyes were fixed on the path to your final destination, right in front of you.
The Crescent City Connection Bridge was mostly abandoned by traffic at this time of night and provided just enough covered spaces to hide you from some foolish saviors eyes.
You didn't need to be saved.
You didn't want to be saved.
Because you were about to save yourself.
There was nothing waiting for you in the other direction than the one you were going. So, with slow but steady steps, you walked towards the middle of the bridge, settling on a place next to a metal pillar and looked over the railing onto the shimmering waters of the Mississippi River.
Alastor had told you about the river, how he loved to watch the steam boats floating on it from the radio station where he worked at when he was alive. The station was long gone, you didn't even find out where it had been in the first place, but you liked to imagine that you were looking at the same scenery now that he had been looking at when he peered out of his booth in his radio tower.
It made you smile through the tears... You were glad the end was somehow connected to him, even if it was most likely just your naive imagination.
It felt like the device in your arms was emitting static energy, prickling over your arms, hands and fingers as you caressed the mahogany wood gently, feeling as though the radio was shaking in your hands, trying to pull you back from the fenced ledge.
A quiet sob escaped your lips, turning into a giggle and into hysterical laughter. You sat down between the railing, and hugged the radio close, trying to breathe as you closed your eyes, resting your temple on the worn, warm wood.
"It'll be okay, Al.", you said quietly, your voice unnaturally hoarse and rough from lack of use and dehydration. "I'm coming. I'm coming to you.”
With one arm around the radio, holding it tight against your chest, you turned to stand on shaky legs, gripping the railing with one arm and, with one final glance at the stars above you you smiled. You heard sirens in the distance, and some people shouting from a sparkling streamliner passing under the bridge. Time was running short, so you didn't wait to put first one foot over the fence, then the other, taking a deep breath.
"I guess doves were always meant to fly."
And, with that, your body twisted, turned and leaped, falling as the light on the radio, firmly pressed against your heart, began to glow in deepest crimson and swirls of green.
Falling like an angel would descend from grace.
Part 2 for closure
#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#alastor#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel fanfiction#fraugwinskawrites#angst#trigger warnings#minors d#minors don't look#minors dont touch#yes I'm crying#you're crying too#we all cry here#no judgement#quickf#quickfic
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beefy!masc!wanda who loves scary movies and r hates them, wanda purposely puts them on so r can get scared and cling to her because wanda loves when you need protection and she's the only one there for you
Your Knight
Beefy!Wanda Maximoff x GN!reader
Summary: Wanda wants to watch a scary movie so you'll end up in her arms.
Word Count: 738
Warnings: None this is rather cute and fluffy~
A/N: Happy Summerween even though it's a little early!
Wanda loves scary movies. The thrill of a good horror flick always excites her, but there’s something she loves even more: you. More specifically, she loves how you react to scary movies.
It's Friday night, and you and Wanda are cuddled up on the couch, surrounded by popcorn, blankets, and dim lighting. The perfect setting for a movie night. Wanda knows you hate scary movies, but she can't resist the opportunity to play the protector. She picks a particularly terrifying one, "The Conjuring," and smirks as she sees the apprehensive look on your face.
"Do we have to watch this one?" you ask, already inching closer to her side, your eyes wide with trepidation.
Wanda chuckles, a deep, comforting sound. "Come on, detka, it'll be fun. Plus, I'll be right here. Nothing's gonna happen to you."
You bite your lip, eyeing the DVD cover warily. "Promise?"
She nods, wrapping a muscular arm around your shoulders and pulling you into her side. "Promise. I've got you."
The movie begins, and it doesn’t take long for the tension to build. Each creak and shadow on the screen has you jumping and clutching onto Wanda's arm. She wraps it around you, pulling you closer, and you feel her solid strength beneath your fingers.
"See? I've got you," she whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You can feel her breath against your hair, and it’s oddly comforting amidst the eerie soundtrack of the movie.
A particularly frightening scene causes you to bury your face in Wanda’s broad chest. She chuckles again, but this time there's a hint of pride in her voice. She loves being your safe haven, the one you turn to when things get scary.
"Oh my God, did you see that?" you whisper-shout, peeking out from behind your fingers.
Wanda grins, eyes fixed on the screen. "Yeah, pretty freaky, huh?"
"Why do you like these movies?" you ask, voice trembling slightly as another jump scare makes you flinch.
She shrugs, her arm tightening around you. "I dunno, I guess I like the adrenaline. And, well, I like it when you cling to me like this."
You look up at her, her face illuminated by the flickering light of the TV. "You do?"
"Yeah," she admits, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Makes me feel... I dunno, protective, I guess. Like I'm your knight in shining armor or something."
You snort, despite your fear. "You're ridiculous."
"But you love me anyway," Wanda replies, her smile warm and her eyes twinkling.
You sigh, sinking back into her embrace. "Yeah, I do."
The movie continues, and you're torn between watching and hiding. Each scare brings you closer to Wanda, and she revels in it, her hand stroking your back soothingly. She holds you tighter every time you jump or shiver, her presence a constant source of comfort.
By the time the movie ends, you're practically in her lap, your head resting against her strong shoulder, and her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.
"You did good," she teases gently, kissing your forehead. "Proud of you."
You look up at her, a mixture of exasperation and affection in your eyes. "You're terrible for making me watch that," you mutter, though your tone is soft, and you can’t hide the small smile playing on your lips.
"Maybe, but you love me anyway," Wanda replies, her smile warm and her eyes full of love.
She’s right. You do love her, even if she tortures you with scary movies. Because at the end of the day, you love how she holds you close, how she makes you feel safe, and how she enjoys being your protector.
"Next time, we’re watching a rom-com," you declare, poking her side playfully.
Wanda laughs, a rich, hearty sound. "Deal. But for now, how about we get some sleep?"
You nod, letting her pull you up from the couch and lead you to bed. As you curl up together, you feel her strong arms wrap around you once more, and you know that no matter what nightmares the movie might bring, Wanda will be there to chase them away.
"And Wanda?" you say softly, just as you're about to drift off.
"Yeah?" she replies, her voice low and comforting in the darkness.
"Thanks for being my knight in shining armor."
She presses a kiss to your forehead, her lips warm and gentle. "Anytime, detka. Anytime."
Taglist: @dorabledewdroop @mrsromanovaa
#ley writes#ley writes requests#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff fluff#beefy!wanda maximoff#gn!reader#wanda maximoff x gn!reader
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SKZ as oddly specific love languages
fluff, pre-established relationship!! mention of vomiting in lee know's part
i have an 80 pages thesis to write but this is what i do instead........
Chan : reminding you to take your medicine
whenever you are sick this man would turn his dad mode ON
he would put alarms in his phone for your medicine and reminds you to take them each day. without fault.
lowkey takes better care of you than he takes care of himself
if it's a nasty medicine, he will send you something along the lines of 'i know it tastes like shit but you can do it baby!!'
will congratulate you as if you've achieved a big milestone when you just took your medicine, but it's so endearing????
bonus : would search up what vitamins you might need and buys them for you because he needs you to be healthy, always
Minho : holding your hair while you vomit
being sick is never fun but minho is extra gentle with you during those days
if you get dizzy and need to vomit multiple times, he'd sit down with you on the bathroom floor, your head on his lap while he plays with your hair gently
and whenever you get the urge to puke, he'll hold your hair for you and rub soothing circles on your back
"you are doing so good baby"
will make sure you are hydrated afterwards!!
brushes your teeth and washes your face for you
he won't ever make you feel bad he'd just be like "what do you need? whatever it is i got you"
bonus : will so make you soup and feed it to you like a baby
Changbin : walking on the right side of the road
he doesn't even realize he's doing it
but whenever you are walking together he would make sure he's on the side near cars
will be talking to you and smoothly switch sides
his arm will always be on your shoulders or on your lower back HE JUST HAS TO TOUCH YOU!!!
he just needs you to be safe at all times
if you are bad at crossing roads (like me) he will hold your hand and do it
not in a patronizing way, more in 'please don't get yourself killed i need you alive'
bonus : he will tie your shoelaces for you in the middle of the road :(
Hyunjin : Writing you love letters
this man will definitely write love letters
for every anniversary you will get a handwritten one that's a given
but you'll also get ones on random days
i feel like he has so much love for you and he will feel it at random times and he'll be like i need to write this down!!!!
will also write you loving sticky notes and put them everywhere
on the fridge, on the bathroom mirror, on your bookshelf EVERYWHERE
they will be compliments like 'you look so pretty today', or just 'i'm so proud of you', or 'dont forget to drink water!!'
bonus : will text you every love poem that reminds him of you
Han : Letting you choose a movie to watch
this man loves his movies but he loves you more!!!!
will host movie nights with you religiously
makes a pillow fort and buys all the snacks you want
then he'd let you pick the movie
he may not even like the genre but will watch it just for you
also he watches you more than he watches the movie
he just loves seeing your face light up when it's a scene/actors you love
he's the embodiment of 'your happiness is my happiness'
bonus : if you ever cry during a movie i feel he will cry too LMAO literally feels your emotions as his own
Felix : Saving you the last sweet treat
ok we know felix will bake for you BUT he loves sweets too right
but he will always save you the last treat
last brownie ? yours, last cookie ? yours, last piece of cake? YOURS
he won't outwardly say it, and he might even be craving it but if you ask him if he wants it he'll say 'no go ahead baby it's yours!'
he loves making you happy and if it's through simple things as this then he's all in
also wants to make sure you are eating well
will literally fight you if you try to feed it to him "NO YOU EAT IT BABY"
bonus : when you get any cravings this man will go out at the crack of dawn to get it for you, he's just so in love
Seungmin : Making a fool out of himself to make you laugh
this man is pro at roasting
you will match his energy of course and he loves your bantering
loves to make it look as if YOU are obsessed with him (which you are but he is too so it's okay)
but when you are feeling sad he will literally go :((
needs to cheer you up AT ALL COSTS
so he will start making fun of himself or making stupid comments that make him look like a dork JUST FOR YOU TO SMILE
if you are crying and he makes you giggle he'll be like BINGO
will literally make you laugh so hard you forget why you were sad in the first place
bonus : definitely will tickle you until you can no longer breathe and then he will pepper your face with kisses :,)
Jeongin : creating curated playlists for you
my man jeongin loves his music and he loves you
he will of course have the lovey dovey playlist of soft songs that reminds him of you
BUT he will go above and beyond
will make you a playlist for your each mood because he knows you so well
like a playlist named 'when you feel like crying also why aren't you texting me rn'
or 'for when you want to feel like a bad bitch (which you are)'
or even music he thinks you'll like while getting ready or doing chores
he's not always there but he feels that if you listen to the playlists he made you he will be there with you
bonus : will definitely share his earphones with you and thinks it's so cute when you lay your head on his shoulder:(
#kpop imagines#skz au#skz headcanons#skz scenarios#stray kids imagine#stray kids x reader#skz fluff#skz x reader#stray kids#stray kids headcanons#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#stray kids soft hours#stray kids soft thoughts#bang chan fluff#lee know fluff#felix fluff#han fluff#stray kids fluff#stray kids recs#stray kids au#stray kids fanfic#skz fanfic#skz soft hours#skz soft thoughts#bang chan x you#felix x you#stray kids x you#lee know x reader#lee know x you
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If I Should Stay
Part 1 | . . . | Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36
Eddie’s heart thumps oddly once again, this time because Steve had used his name. He’d already become used to Eds. He ignores it and spreads his hands. “I’m willing to accept whatever you’ll give me,” he says quietly. “I’m still groveling, here, I’m not exactly in a position to be making demands.”
Steve smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes, and Eddie hates it. “That’s the thing, though. It’s complicated. I don’t know how to define it.”
Eddie hums. “We’re slightly to the left of best friends.”
Steve snickers. “That’s pretty spot-on, actually.”
Eddie shrugs and grins, feeling oddly proud of himself for figuring it out and making Steve smile.
They stand in silence for a minute until Alli pops her head out of the kitchen. “Are you two gonna kiss again? Or is now a good time to offer food?”
Steve snorts and pitches forward to rest his forehead against Eddie’s shoulder. “Al, you’re awful.”
“You love me,” she responds immediately, grinning at Eddie.
Eddie grins back and pokes at Steve’s arm. “She’s offering us food, Stevie, I’m inclined to say yes.”
Steve chuckles before leaning back to smile at Eddie. “Yeah, alright,” he decides, “I could eat.”
Eddie reaches out, links their hands, silently offers Steve an out.
He doesn’t take it, instead grips Eddie’s hand more surely, and something in Eddie’s chest settles.
They walk into the kitchen, hand-in-hand, and Steve grins and shakes his head when Alli starts cooing at them. “Yeah, okay,” he says, then, seemingly out of nowhere, “Hey, you should invite Cassidy over soon.”
Eddie looks between the siblings as they have a silent conversation mostly consisting of eyebrows and head tilts that ends with Steve grinning and Alli shaking her head, trying to hide a smile. “So,” Steve says, “what did you make?”
Alli chuckles and hops up backwards onto the counter by the stove. “Mac and cheese.”
“Ooh,” Steve says, instantly intrigued. He lets go of Eddie’s hand to peer into the pot. “With the good cheese?”
“With the good cheese,” Alli agrees.
Steve whirls around to grin at Eddie. “You’re gonna love this,” he says, “Alli makes the best mac and cheese.”
Eddie grins. “I dunno, Stevie, I think my uncle’s boxed mac might have her beat.”
Steve laughs, shaking his head as he gets three bowls out. He tilts his head towards a drawer. “There’s forks in there, can you grab some?”
Eddie does so, and just as they’re finishing serving themselves, someone opens the front door.
“Steve?” A voice calls. “You home?”
Steve sighs and puts his bowl down. “The little shit,” he mutters, moving out into the living room. “Dustin, what are you doing here?”
The answer is too quiet for Eddie to hear, so he eats his food and eyes Steve’s bowl. Alli laughs at him. “Don’t even think about it,” she says seriously, “Steve’s fought me for less.” Eddie gives her his best innocent who, me? look, and she grins at him. “Oh, you’re gonna be trouble. I like you.”
His grin turns smaller, shyer. “Thank you for not kicking my ass on sight, earlier,” he murmurs.
She grins and nudges his shoulder with her fist. “Steve’s tough. He doesn’t need me to protect him.”
“Maybe,” Eddie says, “but it’s still nice to have someone in your corner.”
“Oh,” she murmurs suddenly. “I forgot.”
Eddie’s brow furrows. “Forgot what?”
“The stories. ‘Bout why you’re here, in Forest Hills, ‘stead of wherever he is.”
She says he in a way that Eddie knows she knows exactly what’s meant by those two little letters. He swallows a lump. “Yeah,” he murmurs back. “‘S why I know.”
She smiles at him. “Your… uncle, right?”
Eddie smiles back. “Yeah. Wayne. He’s… he’s pretty great.”
Alli rests a hip on the counter. “Tell me about him?”
Stomach full of food, safe and warm and happy in this house, with the sound of his maybe-boyfriend scolding his pseudo-younger brother in the other room, Eddie grins and hops up onto the counter. “Gladly.”
Towards the end of his story, Steve comes huffing into the kitchen, making a beeline for the phone. He punches a number in and waits. “Hi, Mrs. Buckley,” he says politely. “Is Robin home?” He listens for a moment, says, “Okay, thank you,” and hangs up, turning to Eddie. “What’s your number?”
Eddie blinks before grinning, and Steve good-naturedly rolls his eyes. “Not like that, you ass,” he chuckles. Eddie relents and rattles off the numbers, and Steve punches those in before waiting again. “Hi, Mr. Munson,” Steve says. Eddie mouths the words and makes a face, and Alli snorts at him. “Is Robin there still?” A pause, then, “Ah,” as his cheeks pinken. “Yes, sir. He did.” Another few seconds later, “Hey. The little shit found Dart.” He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “That’s the thing, though, is it did help. He fuckin’ domesticated the thing.” A laugh, then, “well I’m not gonna tell him.” A squawk, “I am not his-” he cuts off abruptly and pulls the phone from his ear to frown at it. “She hung up on me!”
Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @muricel @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42
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#stranger things#if I should stay#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#robin buckley#platonic stobin#Allison Harrington#dustin henderson#*Spreads hands out* please accept this offering of the calm before the storm#starambles
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the locked tomb holiday exchange rec list
Behold! The good, the magnificent, the sad! The filth and the angst and the feelings! The weird shit that would make TazMuir proud! 💀🎉✨☠️🔥🎊
Here are some favourites from a skim of works posted for @tlt-holiday-exchange, both art and fic. They are MANY and they are JUICY. Find the entire collection HERE, and keep an eye on for authors reveal coming soon!
ART FILLS
A Beautiful Fairy Tale. Wake tells little Bomb a bedtime story but she can't mention a princess without talking about guillotines. Rated T.
Dubious Curiosity. Nona is curious. Nona loves everyone. And Nona wants Cam. (Camilla/Nona) Rated M.
Fingers In Her Mouth. Camilla Hect misses the Warden. Maybe he can lend a helping hand… even in death. (Camilla/hand!Palamedes) Rated M.
just guys being bros. Camilla/Gideon. Gideon touches a boob! A very happy new year to awkward butch lesbians everywhere. Rated T.
Pyrrha Dve Appreciation. Pyrrha & Nona, soft hugs! Rated G.
Stealing Breath. Camilla/Gideon butch-off make-out session. Rated G.
To Shreds, You Say? Pyrrha/Mercymorn/Wake fucking nasty. Rated E.
FIC FILLS
a buried and a burning flame. Coronabeth fucks Gideon's corpse. Rated E.
For all intents and purposes the corpse of the Ninth’s cavalier is a bad lay. That’s all fine, though.
a grave, deep and narrow. Camilla/Palamedes, GtN AU, Character Death, Tape Recorder Conversation Redux. Podfic included! Rated T
Only Lyctors were meant to leave the First House alive. Ianthe insists on bringing Coronabeth; Judith dies of her injuries. Camilla is stranded alone at Canaan House — alone, except for the persistent hallucinations of her necromancer.
affix. Coronabeth/Harrow, humiliation kink, improper use of bones, dom!Harrow, GtN era. rated E.
Cytherea doesn't go to Canaan House AU - Corona overconfidently approaches Harrow in the hopes of exchanging lab keys. Harrow humbles her quickly.
AITA for telling my dad I didn't like my birthday party? Gideon & John, In-Universe Social Media, Character study, Rated T.
I (20F) told my dad (45?M) that I wanted a cool birthday party, but he threw me a terrible birthday party instead. Am I really the asshole for telling him I didn't like it?
and kings shall come out of thy loins. Gideon/Ianthe, crack treated seriously, body horor, SNAKES. Rated M.
Ianthe saves God from the stoma and the River and all she has to show for it are these fucking snubes.
come, dearest heart. Lyctor Palamedes AU, HtN era. Camilla/Palamedes, Pyrrha/Palamedes, Pyrrha/Camilla/Palamedes. Rated E.
In Canaan House, Palamedes Sextus unwillingly ascends to Lyctorhood to put an end to Cytherea the First's rampage. He's left heartbroken, grieving, and terribly, terribly lonely.
Don't Care If You Think I'm Dumb (I Don't Care At All). Gideon/Ianthe, Gideon as Kiriona, Unwholesome Tower Princes Bonding ft. bad sex and retail therapy. Rated E.
The newly christened Kiriona Gaia is not having a good time on the Mithraeum. At least she has Ianthe there to make her worse.
Follow Your Dreams, Never Let Them Die. Gideon/Harrow, Pokemon trainers AU! Rated T.
On her Pokemon Journey, Gideon Nav approaches the mysterious Drearburh City Gym - but something feels oddly familiar.
Gaia's Natural Market. modern AU, retail hell, Harrow/Gideon, Harrow/Ianthe, Gideon/Ianthe. Rated T
RING-A-DING-DING, the Holiday's are here! And nothing says "Give!" like the bounty of the Mother Herself, so come on by to GAIA's Natural Market! Treat your family to a home-cooked meal with only the PUREST of ingredients - all Produce Organic, all Products non-GMO, and all Smiles Authentic and free of Toxins!
Good Girl. Coronabeth/Ianthe, puppyplay, muzzles, rated E.
Coronabeth is Ianthe's big dicked bimbo puppy. Ianthe's into it.
Goodnight, New Rho. Camilla & Nona. Domestic Fluff, Missing Scene. Rated G.
Nona gets a bedtime story. Camilla reminisces about growing up with an older sister. They both sleep well, despite a notable lack of dogs.
In the Empire of the Deeps. Gideon/Nona/Ianthe, Gideon/Ianthe, Pirate AU, monsterfucking-adjacent, Nona is an eldritch sea creature. Rated E.
A chance encounter on the beach. Ianthe is manipulative, Kiriona is sad, and Nona is not as innocent as she seems. Sometimes, you might yearn for one person and meet another one. Sometimes, you have to take what you can get.
just like normal. Ianthe/Coronabeth, Cytherea is also there. Penis in vagina sex, Exhibitionism, Squirting. Rated E.
Ianthe gives herself a cock, and Corona is increasingly bewildered that she hasn’t been allowed to sit on it yet.
language of its own. Camilla/Palamedes. Worldbuilding, idiots to lovers, pre-canon. Rated T.
Camilla Hect has to do an erotic poetry final.
Masochism Tango. Porn with feelings, knifeplay, vivisection, lyctor-typical everything. Rated E.
Two occasions in which Pyrrha Dve had the pleasure of being under Cytherea's knife, and Mercymorn had the pleasure of Pyrrha Dve.
METHODS OF SUBDUCTION. Judith/Cornabeth, Judith & Varun. Planetary science rizz. Rated M.
Varun the Eater teaches Judith Deuteros how to flirt.
midnight mass. Mercymorn/Cristabel, pre-canon, Character Study. Rated T.
A lifetime before the resurrection and two decades before the apocalypse, a novice nun and a third-year medical student discuss goodness, passion, and salvation at midnight on Christmas morning.
motherhood. Mercymorn uses flesh magic on Wake. Hate sex ensues. Body horror, motherhood as violence, canon compliant. Rated E.
“I will kill you,” you say, with all the placid fervor of a religious convert. When you’re on the edge of real violence, you lose that tense little furrow in your brow—it’s beautiful, really. “Please give me a reason.”
My Love Overflows. Corona/Ianthe, Strap-on, Dirty talk, Impact Play, Hair Pulling, Bladder control. Rated E.
The one in which Corona pisses all over herself at Ianthe's whims.
name and rank. Judith/Coronabeth, Judith & Varun. Judith's failwoman swag! Rated T.
As Judith lies dying, she has nothing but time. Varun the Eater uses it to teach her how to flirt with the Princess. Don’t worry. Varun has got this!
New Rule. Mercymorn/Pyrrha, Ranch AU, stablehand Pyrrha, boss/employee relationship. Rated E.
Never hire stablehands who are too handsome and capable for their own good.
no shade in the shadow of the cross. Cytherea/Mercymorn, angst, fisting, two pillow princesses NOT making it work! Rated E.
Cytherea and Mercymorn have an ill-timed tryst.
per my last email. Camilla/Palamedes. Academia, banter. On peer review and multitasking. Rated M.
“Warden,” she said patiently, “you want me so badly it’s making you stupid."
RISKING OUR LIVES FOR UNIVERSITY HOLE???? 🤯😳 University AU, Team 69. The hole is a basement to be clear! Rated T.
The difficult part of visiting the local haunted house for a feature in the university magazine is not actually the visiting; it’s the writing about it afterwards.
So Messed Up. Ianthe/Coronabeth. Puppy play, collars & leashes, tail plug. Rated E.
Ianthe using her flesh magic to give Corona a big cock for petplay because she loves the idea of her sister being a big dicked bimbo puppy girl who just wants to rut into her.
The Great Gamete Gambit. Camilla & Palamedes, Pre-canon, worldbuilding, sixth house reproductive practices. Rated G.
Palamedes and Camilla have an important package to send, but there's been a heist in the gamete repository! Can the 15-year-old Master Warden and his cavalier crack the case?
The Sextus Scandal. Camilla/Palamedes, Epistolary, Pre-Canon Divergence. Rated E.
Transcripts and documents relating to the disciplinary hearing and subsequent resignation of Master Warden Palamedes Sextus.
Ways to Be Perfect. Babs/Colum Asht, GtN era, Rated M.
When Naberius first glanced across the supper table at Colum Asht, he didn’t immediately get the impression that he was liked.
The end!
Thank you for making it this far. If you enjoyed any of these works, or anything else in the collection, please drop a comment to make our creators feel appreciated <3
[post creators reveal exchange wrap post]
#tlt fic#fic recs#tlt holiday ex 2023#tlt fanfic#tlt fanart#tlt#the locked tomb#if you enjoyed these pls leave feedback on the collection <3#and thanks to the mods for putting it all together#114 (!!!!) works now!!!
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Could you pretty please give us some rosekiller hcs as you did for jeggy
oh nonnie i would absolutely love to give some of my rosekiller hcs <3 (i’ve copied over some from my “domestic hc” list, so those will be first and i’ve added some other ones on as well!)
— evan actually really enjoys cooking meals for the two of them, even if barty is an absolute nuisance in the kitchen. always stealing kisses and slapping his ass. stirring whatever is in the pot and pretending like he knows exactly what he’s doing (secretly he does know what he’s doing, but he loves when evan cooks for him, and evan is more than happy to indulge him <3)
— barty is a stress cleaner! he’s not always tidy, actually rather frequently he outright refuses to make the bed or will forget to wash his dishes, but then he goes and has one minor inconvenience and evan will come home to the couch on the other side of the room and the pantry reorganized by the color of each item.
— save water, shower together. there’s not a single chance you’ll find either of them showering on their own. they say it’s for the environment, but truthfully they are just severely connected at the hip, and barty wants any excuse to see evan naked
— evan will (and does) steal the same hoodie of barty’s anytime he is cold. might as well be part of his closet at this point. and before they actually started dating, barty would go out of his way to make sure it was clean every time evan came over even if it meant forking over four extra dollars worth of quarters and dealing with the bitchy lady at the laundromat (i did, in fact, include this hc in like smoke behind glass)
— i have it on good authority that for valentine’s day barty tried to bake evan a heart shaped cake (vanilla with raspberry jam and vanilla bean frosting), but he fucked it up real bad and forgot the LITERAL SUGAR but evan still plastered on the fakest damn smile and told him he was proud of barty
— freaky ass mfs. barty loves to receive praise while degrading someone else, and this dynamic works out really well between him and evan because evan finds a thrill in how barty’s eyes roll to the back of his head when he’s praised and how vulgar and open it makes him feel to be degraded by barty
— there’s a universe where barty is a dirtbag runner ( @moon-seas the idea has not left my head once) and he’s dry scooping preworkout before he goes on his runs while evan is swirling his little glass straw around his cup of fucking fresh pressed cucumber and kale juice
— evan’s obsessed with barty’s teeth, pretty much just teeth in general. and next thing you know evan is investing in a full 1940s style dentist chair that he keeps in his “lab” just so he can strap barty down and start analyzing his teeth until his little heart is content and barty’s just wooed the entire time like “oh wow, yeah, that one’s mine”
— their fucking is a bit clinical meet freak show if that even makes any sense whatsoever. it does it me and i stand by it!
— barty is a wannabe punk skater-boy but he’s more like if a possum got thrown into a bucket of water in the middle of hot topic in 2007 if you catch my drift and then evan is this cadaverous little puppet with an oddly ethereal quality that is both concerning and captivating. it’s like if the bean stalk from jack and the bean stalk got a little cunty, twinky man to be his boyfriend
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Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 12
chapter 22:
1. 😟😟 all james wants is for sirius to be there for james the way james ALWAYS was for sirius
2. 😟 james wished hodge happy birthday even though hodge died yesterday. i- i am not okay
3. “Regulus never fails to look up. Evan would be proud of him for that, he thinks.” 😧 that was vile to put in there
4. james has resorted to BEGGING for medicine from sirius and can’t understand why sirius won’t send any. this hurts so bad
5. nope. i’m done. i can’t read any more. james started looking forward to death cause he would be out of this arena and out of pain. jfc i’m done
6. anyways. i’m back cause i couldn’t stop reading.
7. REGULUS AND JAMES ARE REUNITED!!! THANK GOD!!! 😊
8. 😧 wait nevermind. james just mistook regulus for sirius. “James has never, not once in his life under any circumstances, mistaken Regulus for Sirius”
9. james is delulu from medicine and reg just found out that the plan has always been to get reg home. this hits like a motherfucking truck
10. james is high as a fucking kite, can’t figure out why “sirius” is being mean to him, cause he’s never been mean to him. and is also wondering why “sirius” is oddly attractive for being mean
11. it takes james half a chapter, and reg cutting his shirt for james to realize it’s not sirius. cause sirius has different scars. i love james sm 😭😭
12. “What was Sirius thinking? Drugging James? In the middle of the fucking hunger games? That might be the most idiotic thing Regulus has ever known his brother to do, and this is Sirius he's talking about, so that's saying a lot. Sirius once flipped a cigarette in the air and tried to catch it with his mouth while it was lit, and kept doing it until he could actually consistently manage it, no matter how much it burned him. Though, in fairness, he can still do that trick to this day.”
LMAO WHAT??? that’s so random and i love it
13. 😧 legit sobbing. reg says that james lost the spark in his eyes. and he’s the one person he expected to never lose his spark
14. reg reveals that they both can go home. james’ spark is back. i’m sobbing harder now. they’re so in love
15. i eat, breathe, and dream those author end notes. bizzarestars writes their end notes the way my brain processes the fic. <33
chapter 23:
1. starting the chapter off with pain, i see. losing vanity changed james. like. horribly changed him.
2. “What Regulus hates more than James is his suffering.” jfc he’s so emotionally constipated
3. james is sad and all reg can think is hmmmm i want him to start flirting with me again, because it meant he was happy bitch wtf
4. awww they’re cuddling and just got a package! my babies are gonna make it out!
5. reg realizes he has to put on a show, so he offers to feed james. and wants to gouge his eyeballs out for offering that. 😭😭😭😭
6. i’m dying from embarrassment but this is also so fucking funny. reg is like. let’s talk about our feelings. for each other. and james is just like *head tilt* ???
7. “"You weren't my first crush, James," Regulus whispers. "You were my first love."”
james didn’t just make reg feel good, he made reg feel and i am NOT okay.
8. “This whole time, Regulus has been steady on the fact that he wouldn't kiss James to save his own life, but he's apparently willing to do it to save James'.”
JFC why is he so emotionally constipated???
9. THEY KISS????? james is gonna be heartbroken when he realizes it was all an act
10. oh thank god james realized. at least it broke his heart now and not in two weeks
11. *squints* now reg has never wanted anything more than this kiss. girl. please. realize.
12. god, i’ve never read a kiss more beautifully and emotionally desperate written.
13. 😏 reg called him baby again!
14. oh god, maybe i’m just as bad as everyone in the hallow. maybe i’m just as bad as them. cause i enjoy their romance. i enjoy it so much. maybe i’m just as bad as the hallow for that. i- i think this every time i read the hunger games.
15. “James wants to sink his teeth into Regulus and leave the deep imprints of his teeth from one jutting hip bone to the other.” sometimes i forget that jegulus is a little unhinged in ways like this. and every time i’m reminded, I LOVE IT
16. “"You treat me like I'm stupid for daring to see good in people, but if there's no good in anyone, then what's the fucking point?"”
this entire section. this. this is what james is all about
17. 😟 authors note just told me i’m no better than a hallow. for my excitement over jegulus. and- yeah. i guess so. i’m so sorry y’all
#marauders#regulus black#james potter#jegulus#fanfic#sirius black#sunseeker#starchaser#crimson rivers
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→ HYPOCRITE [ last part ] ⸺ itadori. y ۵
۵ contains - mature language, physical touch, heavy kissing, light degrading, manhandling, angst, fluff, pet names, enemy!yuuji/bully!yuuji/yandere!yuuji, AFAB!reader, love confession <3
۵ summary - following part one story line. this is part two.
NOW -
۵ “Your mouth is too big, maybe I should shut it for you.” Yuuji stepped down, near to you, his honey-almond eyes gazing down into yours, his orbs on your soft lips.
you stood confidently, hands crossed against your chest.
“I doubt that you'd touch me.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah.. it is,” you strode slightly closer to him, annoyance flashing against his expression as you spoke up, “You punched Aoi for teasing me, you wouldn't dare lay a finger on me-”
his thick, veiny hand moved up to your throat, now standing even closer to you, leaving no room between both of your bodies. he silenced you with one, single touch. he had a sort of power over you, one he enjoyed having.
his hand tightened around the soft skin of your chubby neck, his facial features illuminated even more by the moonlight shining through his glass windows.
he stood tall, his firm body pressing against your imperfections, making you feel small.
your eyes enlarged as you inhaled his musky scent, the smell of blood mixed with his rich, smooth cologne, realizing just how close he was to you.
“I won't hurt you, you're right about that.. but god, if I wanna fucking touch you, I’ll touch you.” his eyes locked onto yours, both of you standing in his dark and silent bedroom, the sound of your soft breathing filling the air.
his cold lips curled into a smirk, meeting your ear.
“you understand, don’t you?” he whispered in a frosty yet dull tone, beginning to walk against you, forcing you to back up slowly. his hand fell from your throat, your own reaching behind you, making sure you didn’t trip or fall. “or was that little touch not enough for you, love?”
your back finally hit the edge of one of his dressers, your sweaty palms resting against the sharp edges. your rear pressed against the top of the dresser, causing your back to arch and your body to lift slightly.
he watched as you struggled to move from him, his eyes filled with nothing but twisted love. Yuuji’s hands made contact with your squishy, thick thighs, using all of his strength to lift you up and onto the dresser. a soft whimper elicited from your smooth lips, causing him to groan in satisfaction.
“w-what are you doing..? you can’t touch me like that!” you shouted, but his palm made contact with your mouth, silencing you.
“I’m proving something.” he licked his lips, hands resting on your thighs as he pushed them apart, pushing himself in between them. “don’t be so loud, baby.. like I said, I won’t hurt you.” your breathing sped up delicately, nails digging into the sides of his dresser.
he eyed your wrists, clutching them into his thick and slender fingers. he gripped them tightly in both of his hands, moving them up above your head, pinning you against the wall.
he was still so much taller than you were, eyes staring down into yours as you gritted your teeth. he saw your whining and decided to call you out for it. “you're a little whiny brat, huh?”
“and you're a hypocrite,” you whispered back, your orbs filled with honesty and nervousness.
“I know.” Yuuji smirked, pressing his body against yours, his abdomen pressing against your pelvis, his lips closer than ever before.
“you sound oddly happy with that.”
“because I am. I’m proud of myself.”
“oh, you are? being a hypocrite isn’t something to be proud of, Yuuji.”
“It is when it’s about you,” his nose pressed against yours as his eyes darted towards your lips, then back to your slender orbs. “you wanna know why?”
“yeah.” you stated, feeling his breath mix with yours as he chuckled lowly.
“because you’re mine to tease. mine to fuck with. mine to hurt and break,” he paused for a moment, before continuing his statement, “mine to love.” his voice was cold but loving, as if he was trying his best to keep his composure.
“Aoi doesn’t get to talk with you or touch you like I can.. you’re fucking mine. you’ve always been mine, whether you like it or not, y/n..” his breathing sped up against yours. the thoughts running through his mind were filthy. dirty. in need of cleansing. but he didn’t care. he fought himself not to act on those thoughts, but it was getting harder by the second.
you bit your lip, letting the feeling of being touched and lulled by him sink into you, causing you to act a certain way. this was abnormal to you. he basically just confessed that he was in love with you, and you wanted nothing more than for him to take you where you sat.
“I wanna hear you say it,” you uttered from your slightly opened lips, your foreheads rubbing against each other. “I wanna hear that.. that you want me and you need me and you love me..” as he heard you speak, his hands tightened around your wrists, making you moan against his breath. “say it, Yuuji.. say it..” you chanted, voice sounding soft and in need.
the darkness of the room contrasted with his smug smirk.
suddenly, his lips pressed against yours, a wet, SQUELCH sound eliciting from both of your mouths as his tongue slid deep into your depths, his cloudy grey shirt lifting as your thighs pressed against his torso, rubbing and hugging his waist.
“come.. on.. baby..” he murmured between kisses, shared saliva dripping down your chin as he moved his hands from your wrists, letting your hands move to his pink shaded hair, rustling the locs. he moved his big hands towards your ass, squeezing it as he lifted you off of the dresser, moving you down towards his bed.
he threw you on his king sized, black silk sheeted bed, the soft pillows pressing into your hair, his lips never leaving yours as he climbed on top of you.
“you know I fuckin’ love you, y/n..” he whispered into your hot mouth, the heat between your legs worsening by the second.
the husk of his tone and the way his hands roamed your body made your stomach tingle, making your thighs lift with ease.
“I fucking love you baby.” ۵
HYPOCRITE.
PSA - this is the FINALE part. can you tell I used grammarly? 🤣 anyway, expect more Yuuji fics and oneshots, I’m feeling romantical 😋
#anime aesthetic#yuuji x reader#jjk yuuji#xoitadori#anime#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#fanfic#oneshot#imactuallyscreaminghessofuckinghot
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Please can your write headcanons or drabbles or something about their s/o (separately) finding Jin and Kazuya’s devil forms hot and they want to have sex with them in that form
ANON YOURE FREAKY AND I LOVE IT BC ME TOO
First of all if you’re not familiar with their devil forms then:
Jin
Kazuya
Jin:
• When you first bring it up, he is to say the least, flabbergasted lmao. He actually puts a hand to your forehead to check if you’re sick and having delusions and when feels that you’re fine then he asks you again if you were serious.
• He wants reasons, like legit reasons as to why you would want to have sex with his devil form and you just straight up tell him the truth that you find it attractive.
• He’s not quite sure how to feel about it bc on one hand he’s oddly flattered that you find him attractive even in that state but on the other hand he’s worried about the risks and potentially harming you. Sure he has full control now but he’s fearful that he might slip.
• Before you get into the actual sex, he’ll shift into his devil form and strip naked so you can actually see what you’ll be working with. Stands tall and secretly proud as you admire him in his naked glory, asking for permission to touch him. When your fingers graze his skin and go across his wings, it takes him a moment to collect himself and not pounce on you right there.
• It’s not as intense if you touch his horns but with you so close to his face he can see the admiration and lust in your eyes.
• He wants to touch you back but is hesitant and wants to wait for your okay. When you give it to him he’ll put his hands on your waist, the tips of his claws lightly piercing your skin. You’re so soft and delicate in his hands and it makes think how easily he could shred into you and the thought scares him a bit.
• When you finally do get to the intimacy, he’ll skip using his hands on you bc he doesn’t really trust his claws to not cut you like paper 💀so he’ll use lube to prep you better. He will happily have you go down on him and when you do it’s like heaven. His voice is much deeper and rougher in his devil form so when he grunts and tells you how could it feels, it shoots straight into your center.
• Stops you before he could let himself truly get into it because the more he sees how needy you are to fuck him in this form the more he wants to oblige and cater to it. He’ll lay you down on your bed and hover above you, asking you one more time if you’re sure this is what you want. You tell him yes and he kisses you, passionately to convey his love and happiness in the trust you have for him. And also to distract you as he slowly pushes himself into you.
• When Jin transforms into Devil Jin he gets a bit bigger and you knew that. You just didn’t know that everything would get bigger. He doesn’t get longer but he does get thicker. When you feel him start slip himself in and the stretch is a bit more tense than usual, you flex your fingers into his arms, trying to relax your muscles to take him in. He pauses and kisses your forehead, whispering to tell him it’s okay if you want to stop or slow down. You tell him to give you a moment to adjust, bringing your arms around his neck to pull him close and kissing his throat. It makes him groan and he asks how you’re doing and if he’s okay to move. You tell him yeah and he sinks all the way in.
• Devil Jin starts off slow, not wanting to overwhelm you but he feels how you’re clamping around him, how your sweet whimpers hit his ears and it isn’t long before he’s picking up the pace and fucking you hard. You can feel how he slowly loses control, his hips slapping against yours, chest pressed snuggly to you as he breathes heavily into your neck. You can tell he’s holding back and if you’re gonna fuck Devil Jin you’re GONNA fuck Devil Jin. You tell him it’s okay, that he can go a bit harder and boy does he go harder.
• Tells you to hold onto him, your hands going to his shoulder. He tells you no and to go higher.
• Yeah his horns.
• The longer and harder he fucks you the more he lets loose and you can tell bc of how his wings twitch and flex every so often. His face is contorted in sweet bliss, one hand gripping the headboard and the other clawing into the pillow next to your head.
• He turns his head towards your wrist, your pulse beating erratically and he bares his teeth with his fangs gleaming softly in the light. His eyes flash red and snap to yours, waiting for permission. You give him the okay and he licks your salty skin before sinking his teeth in just enough to puncture you. It sends an electric shock up your spine, your body arching up while Jin buries his face in your neck and gives another small bite.
• He actually growls when you tell him you’re about to come, your hands brushing against his wings and it sends him into his orgasm. He moans beautifully in your ear as his seed fills you up, hips still rolling to make sure he rides out every second of it.
• He’ll lift himself off you and pull out, watching him pour from your hole and it’s a sight to be seen with his eyes only.
• Jin may not have a breeding kink but Devil Jin? Hell yeah.
Kazuya:
• Honestly… he laughs lmao
• Like a full belly clutching his stomach laugh when you tell him you want to have sex with his devil form.
• He thinks you’re crazy (maybe a little more than him) for wanting to do so.
• Until you basically start complimenting him, giving light touches across his body, small teasing kisses on his neck and shoulders. He is unfortunately melting like butter but he won’t show it and let you know exactly what you’re doing to him.
• To see you so needy to fuck his devil certainly has his pants tighten.
• He tells you he’ll do it but don’t expect this to be a regular thing.
• When he shifts he can practically see the heart eyes bulging from your skull. It makes him feel good, a pep in his step, a twitch in his cock, a boost to his ego that even in this monstrous form you STILL want to fuck him.
• He knows you asked for this but he’s gonna take control of the situation. In his human form he’s normally the dominate one. He’s not a mean dom per se but you tend to follow his dance to the song rather than your own.
• Things go as normal; you blow him, you touch each other (he’s more careful with his nails), like Jin he opts to skip out on using his fingers inside you. As much as he’d like to see it, he’d rather not fly over to the hospital at this time of night.
• He has you ride him with your chest to his back, sitting on the edge of the bed. There’s a large mirror propped at the opposite wall so you can watch the way he fucks you, how much his devil forms dwarfs over your body.
• Devil Kazuya’s got one hand splayed on your thigh with the other wrapped around your throat. He’s growling low in your ear how good you feel around him, how his cock fits snugly inside you. Like Jin he also gets bigger except he gets longer and thicker.
• Tells you to fuck yourself, to work on his cock while he watches, watches you struggle to take him all in. His wings stretch wide when he bottoms out, throws his head back and laughs when he feels your muscles spasm around him.
• After that all hell breaks loose lmao.
• Grips your thigh and throat harder and begins to actually fuck you hard, loving how your eyes rolls into the back of your head.
• Let’s ignore the fact that his abs are CRYSTALIZED—
• He fucks you on his lap for a while before laying back on the bed with you on top and proceeding in the position.
• He’ll skim his nose up your neck, whisper hotly in your ear, drag his claws down your skin.
• He’ll tease you for being such a good pet for him.
• Pinches your nipples bc he wants to see you squeal under him.
• When you try to tell him that you’re close, he’ll clamp a hand over your mouth and flip you over to keep fucking you on your stomach. Scratch down your back and grip your ass cheek to hold you tight while he pounds into you.
• When he’s about to cum he’ll pull out and hold off, turning you back over to face him. He locks eyes with you as he inserts himself back in, leaning down to kiss you and swallow your moans as he starts thrusting once more.
• You clutch onto his horns, touch his wings and grip them so tight that it has him grunting, slamming his hips harder until he finally cums inside you.
• He’ll hold himself against you, breathing heavily and dragging a hand over your body while asking if he’s hurt you anywhere.
• You tell him no and he mutters a quiet ‘good’ before pulling out. The sight of his cum dripping out has blood rushing to his cock again and he wants to take you for another round.
• You can see the way he stares, face hard as he watches himself seep out your hole while massaging your thighs. You call his name softly and he slowly looks up at you, eyes blinking in wait.
• “Give me 5 and I’ll be good.”
• All he gives you is that smug little smirk and a swift pat on the thigh.
• Maybe fucking him in his devil form would be a regular thing.
#devil jin#jin kazama#kazuya mishima#devil kazuya#Kazuya x reader#devil Jin x reader#tekken#my writings#asks
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Can you teach me?
Pairings: Agedup!Aonung x Fem!navi Reader
Summary: You never knew the ways of his people but while he taught you, you taught him how to trust and love.
Warnings: MDNI slight angst (if you squint), smut, p in v, fingering, mentions of violence, praising, Dom!Aonung, slight dacryphilia, slight degradation, public sex, filth, just.. yeah
Word count: 3k
Requested: Yes/No
♥18+ ♥ no minors!♥18+ ♥ no minors!♥18+ ♥ no minors!♥18+ ♥
A/n: This was proofread a few times but if there are any mess-ups let me know, please. But uhhh... Ya know.. I actually don’t have any words but I am down bad for this man that’s all I know.
»——————⋆◦ 𖥸 ◦⋆——————«
Arriving with your family at the village of Awa'atlu was a new sort of feeling, not one of dread but more so unfamiliarity with everything. You couldn't help but admire the beauty of the turquoise-colored na’vi and their bigger frames.
You followed quietly behind your brother as he copied the actions of your father showing the people you meant no harm. You hid trying to make yourself smaller before coming to a stop in the middle as you all waited for the chief and tsahik to arrive.
As you stood beside your older brother Neteyam despite the situation you were oddly relaxed in the new environment, for you everything looked so pretty. Your tail swayed back and forth gently, slowly in a relaxed manner. You weren’t focused on anything until you heard two voices behind you and Neteyam, and your ears twitched at one distinct laugh because a small whimper slipped past your parted lips as you felt your sensitive tail be tugged on.
You felt eyes on you, they made your body heat up, but you pushed aside whatever thoughts crossed your mind. Aonungs gaze was penetrating, he was accessing you, no doubt he thought you were beautiful with your slender yet curvy body. He wanted you in that moment more than he’s ever wanted anything, but he knew better, he was a player, he didn’t settle, didn’t love. He didn’t know how.
You turned around quickly a frown on your lips as you looked up at the male who pulled your tail, your eyes catching his unrelenting gaze. Whatever words you had died on your lips and instead of speaking you looked away doing your best to ignore the intense look he gave you. You felt Neteyam pat your head gently before looking up at the chief as he spoke.
"Toruk Makto and his family will stay with us. Treat them as our brothers and sisters. They do not know the sea so they will be like babies taking their first breath. Teach them our ways so they do not suffer the shame of being useless. My son Aonung and daughter Tsireya will teach the Sully kids" Tonorwari said before dismissing everyone, leaving no room for protest especially from his eldest son.
Soon you and your family were shown your new home and getting situated before resting until tomorrow.
»——————⋆◦ 𖥸 ◦⋆——————«
The next morning you and your siblings met with Tsireya, Aonung, and Rotxo before getting split up into groups to help you all focus. Tsireya would be teaching Loak and Tuk, Rotxo with Neteyam and Kiri, and Aonung with you. Aonung didn't say much as he led you off somewhere to begin teaching you.
You were aware of the looks he gave you occasionally, as he led you off, he was curious about you, about your life but he didn’t say anything. He was for once at a loss for words and you were okay with that, the silence was nice and comforting.
You sat across from him; eyes wide as he went over the hand signs once more. Looking down at your own hands as you attempted to copy his movements, you felt proud of yourself each time you got something right. You were so focused on watching your hands and repeating the signs that you didn't notice Aonung staring at you with wonder.
Finally looking up you caught his eyes and smiled happily, your pale green eyes shining with happiness, your smile alone caused Aonung to blush a bit before looking away.
"Aonung?" You called him as you both sat side by side, he had just finished teaching you breathing techniques. Looking over at him as you waited patiently for him to answer.
“Hm.” He mumbled just loud enough for you to hear him.
“What else can you teach me?” Your voice held a certain level of curiosity as you stared at him, your tail swaying around lazily. You saw him sit up straighter as he seemed to be thinking over all the possibilities of what he could teach you. Anoungs’ thoughts were full of many things he found himself getting excited at the thought of teaching you. It was quiet for a moment aside from the sounds of your relaxed breathing.
“I can teach you many things. I will teach you if you teach me.” He stated, his blue eyes finally meeting yours.
You tilted your head, a few of your braids falling into your face as you thought it over before nodding slowly. “Teach you what?” Your browbones raised in confusion, what could he possibly want you to teach him.
“Teach me how to love.”
»——————⋆◦ 𖥸 ◦⋆——————«
Over the next few weeks, it started with soft, innocent touches during training periods. You'd feel the touches of his fingers grazing against your own, or the feeling of his hand lingering on your lower back and abdomen. It was never anything more, yet you couldn't wait to be near him.
Aonung couldn't help himself, he had to be touching you, he craved the smallest bits of contact with you. When he wasn't picking on or bullying your siblings, he was being sweet to you, learning. He'd never actually admit that his asking you to teach him how to love was just an excuse to get closer to you.
Moments like now with you standing between his legs as he sat before you, he had a bruise on his face a nice bruise at that. "Ahh, Lo'ak got you good. serves you right maybe next time you'll stop to think before you pick on my sister again," you whispered as you applied healing cream to his bruised cheek.
You were disappointed but his fingers rubbing at your hips as he held you close made your heart melt a little. "I'm sorry... I won't do it again. Aonung knew one thing he hated the look you gave him as you tended to him. His grip tightened on your hips as he pulled you closer, you dropped our hands to his shoulders watching him with wide eyes. You both stared at each other before you saw him leaning closer and before you knew it you felt his lips on yours, it was a soft kiss that grew heated. His nails digging into your skin, his hold bruising but you loved it, loved how he held you like he'd lose you. your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him as close as well, taking your time to deepen the kiss to fight him for control.
Aonungs hands moved down to grab your ass, he groaned a little as he finally pulled away from the kiss. His eyes clouded with lust as he stared at you taking in the look of your half-lidded eyes and parted lips, he was pleased with himself. He rested his head on your shoulder letting himself rest before he began placing kisses against your heated skin, his hot open-mouthed kisses trailed up to your neck. You let out soft quiet moans and whimpers that drove him crazy, he wanted more of your sweet sounds to invade his ears and soon enough he was biting and sucking on your skin, littering your neck with his marks.
You felt him pull away leaving you dazed and needy for him, the smell of your arousing filling his nose pulling a low growl from him. biting down on your lip as you stood there processing the moment before he pushed you away. "Aonung?" you called softly but he was already out of the healing pod.
To say you were dumbfounded was an understatement, how could he kiss you like that and then just leave like nothing happened. All you could do was sigh as you cleaned up everything you used to tend to him. Once you were sure everything was back to how it was before you used them you left to go back to your family home.
A few hours had passed since the incident, and it was now eclipse and you were speaking with your father when Neteyam dragged Aonung in with his hand wrapped around the back of the boy’s neck. “Tell them what you told me.” Neteyam told him you watched in confusion until he started speaking. “We took Lo’ak beyond the reef and he has not returned.”
You gasped before rushing up to leave when you were stopped by Aonung’s grip on your arm, hid hold was soft. Looking down at his hand you roughly pulled away with a hiss that had him flinching back, “So help me if anything has happened to my brother... I will hate you forever.” Your usually sweet voice had lost any softness it held as you spoke to him in that moment, and it broke his heart. He prayed to the great mother that your brother was fine, he knew in that moment he’d be absolutely lost if he lost you due to his own stupidity.
As you rushed outside a horn blew meaning your brother had returned home, immediately you rushed to his side checking him after your father gave him a quick once over. “He’s fine, he’s fine, just a few scratches.” Your mother came up and she checked him briefly, “I pray for the strength that I will not pluck the eyeballs out of my youngest son.” Neytiri hissed. In any other moment you would have laughed but you were just as worried.
“No, my son knows better than to take him outside the reef, the blame is his.” Tonorwari said, giving Aonung a disappointed look as he made him kneel, ears flat against his head. You wanted to hate him, but you knew you couldn’t despite him nearly getting your brother killed.
Jake ushered you all to leave when Lo’ak spoke up making you hiss quietly. “No this is not Aonungs fault, this was my idea and Aonung tried to talk me out of it really.” You shared a look with Neteyam before you tugged your brother long after your parents. You gently rubbed Lo’aks back as he got scolded before he walked off, you caught him speaking to Aonung before he turned his attention to you. The moment he stepped towards you, you shook your head and turned in the direction your family was going in.
»——————⋆◦ 𖥸 ◦⋆——————«
For the next few weeks, you avoided Aonung like the plague as well as successfully making up excuses and brushing off questions asked by the others. You were doing a good job of avoiding him until now, he stood in front of you with a frown, ears flat against his head.
"Speak to me please, yell at me, hit me but please stop ignoring me," he begged quietly.
"You nearly cost me a brother and for what??" you yelled pushing at his larger frame. "I do not wish to see you again Aonung, I will train with Tsireya and Rotxo."
“Look I’m sorry okay! I was scared. Y/n.” he frowned softly as he grabbed your arm before moving to grab your face gently. He held onto your face firmly within his hands. “Before you I didn’t know how to love, how to feel anything other than pleasure from random girls.” He confessed.
You simply stared at him, your eyes looking over his face before you caught his blue ones, you wanted to look away, but you couldn’t, so you let your body relax as you listened to him.
“These few months when I first asked, I didn’t know you’d actually teach me how to love, I thought I was incapable of such things.” His words were surprisingly soft even for him, but he continued pouring his heart out. “I knew from the moment I saw you; I was yours, but I needed a reason. A reason to get you to fall for me like I did you. To love me as I love you.”
He pulled away; his eyes held nothing but truth as you watched him. “Y/n.. I see you baby please.”
“I see you ma’nungie.”
You barely had time to react when you felt your back being pressed up against a rock and his lips on yours, the kiss was heating and rough, the clashing of teeth sounding as he put everything into the kiss. Your hands moved up to tangle into his hair as you pulled him closer.
He dug his nails into your waist drawing a small gasp from your lips and in that moment, he pushed his tongue into your mouth, letting it caress and explore every inch of your mouth. Without breaking skin contact he began leaning hot kisses along your neck as his hands worked at removing your loincloth, small moans slipping past your lips as his kisses against your skin became more aggressive.
He let out a small growl as he nipped and sucked on your neck, leaving marks in his way until he finally got your bottom have naked, his fingers lightly brushing over your dripping wet cunt.
He rubbed your slit a few times murmuring “Look at how wet you are for me...” whined a little as you rocked against his fingers teasing your slit trying to get any sort of friction you could find. “I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re so needy for me.”
You let out a small whine each time he got close to entering you but never giving into your whines. “Tell me what you need yawne..” he whispered against your neck before pulling away to look over your flushed face.
“Need to feel you inside...” with the gentlest of touches you felt his fingers graze over your swollen clit, the touch was like that of a feather just barely brushing against your cheek and that infuriated you. “Aonung.. please fuck...”Youu did your best to rock your hips doing your best to get his fingers where you so desperately needed them.
“Touch me.. please... make me yours.” You begged.
He could help but give into you letting his finger slowly inch their way inside your sopping wet pussy. “Oh fuck...” You cried out letting your head fall back against the rock, your walls gripping onto his fingers with greed as he began moving them slowly at first, taking his time to stretch you out, preparing your right walls for him. His fingers were much bigger than your slender digits, his filling you up, reaching deeper as he slowly brought you a different type of pleasure.
“S’tight.. can’t wait to have this pretty pussy wrapped around my cock.” Aonung mused as he watched his fingers disappearing into your needy cunt with each thrust of his hand.
Your mind was muddled, in a hazy mess of pleasure as he continued to fuck you with his fingers your legs shaking slightly as you feel the familiar tightening, your orgasm was close and before you could reach that peak your body so desperately needed it was ripped away when his fingers were no longer buried deep inside you.
Your felt tears build up as you tried to hold back a sob, doing your best to blink away the tears as you looked up into those eyes you loved. “Shh baby.. don’t cry m’gonna fuck you now... fuck you so good.”
Aonung had already discarded his loincloth as he rubbed his swollen tip against your entrance, he was admiring that way you looked with tears in your eyes as you silently begged him to fuck you. He’d be lying if the sight of you so needy for him didn’t make his cock harder.
Without so much as another thought he was sliding his length inside of you slowly, drawing a loud moan from your lips before it was being muffled by his hand on your mouth. “Shh yawne.. we’re still out in the open.” The thought alone had you immediately clenching around him drawing a loud groan from his lips.
“Fuck... fuck the thought of getting caught turns you on? You’re such a fucking whore...” he whispered quietly as he finally pushed his entire length inside completely. The tip of his member brushing against the tip of your cervix had your eyes rolling back into your head, whatever air was left in your lungs now completely gone.
He stayed still letting you adjust to him before he pulled out slowly before thrusting back in roughly, his fingers now inside your mouth pressing down on your tongue to silence any noises you were bound to make. Your walls fluttered around his cock, gripping onto him tightly causing his head to fall back as he growled out.
Your vision was blinded by stars with each of his rough thrust, nothing about the way he thrusted and used your body was gentle. His thrust are hard and rough, each thrust brushing up against your sweet spot over and over. Your mind was going blank, you couldn’t focus on anything except the unbridled feeling of pleasure. Incoherent mumbles and noises slipped past your mouth.
He enjoyed the sight of you like this, his fingers fucking into your mouth, drool falling from your mouth and down your throat. He found pleasure in making you gag every in a while as he fucked into your sopping yet pussy, this only fueled him to go harder and faster.
You felt that familiar feeling building back up, you were close, so desperately close you needed the release. Needed to come, your eyes rolled back as your walls tightened around his cock causing his hips to stutter in their movements. His free hand founds its way between your bodies rubbing quick circles against your clit.
“That’s it pretty girl... let go... come for me baby.” He cooed quietly against your ear.
As if your body belonged to him in every aspect of the word you found your releasing around him, juices coating his cock in your essence. He growled softly as he bit down on your neck just as his thrust became sloppy, he made you ride out your orgasm as he chased his.
“Gonna fill you up... breed you... make your tummy round with my baby...” he cried out against your skin just as his seed spilled out into your awaiting womb. His hips moving gradually slowing down until they came to a full stop.
You laid against the rock panting heavily as you let your body recover from everything, Aonung kept you close as he peppered your face in soft kisses murmuring about how much of a good girl you were for taking him. Carefully pulling out of you he lowered you both to the ground, cradling your body against his as he rubbed your back. You were more aware of everything now, ears twitching as the faint sound of his words.
“Thank you for teaching me how to love, yawne.”
»——————⋆◦ 𖥸 ◦⋆——————«
Tags: @cinetrix @otasia @blueslxt-primary @tiredmamaissy @oceanstar19 @pandoraslxna @kxamtxomawteyam @avatar4life @iwanttogohomeandtakeanap @ghostreadersthings @manumanulau @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @leelumenaura @dreamingofeywa
(If you wish to be added to the tag list let me know!)
#avatar twow#avatar#atwow smut#aonung#aonung x fem!reader#avatar the way of water#aonung angst#aonung smut#aonung x you#aonung x y/n#avatar smut
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As the hours pass, Nora and Emma continue their playtime. They lose track of time in their imaginative world, going on adventures, pretending to be princesses, and exploring their make-believe kingdom. Their laughter fills the room, creating a joyful atmosphere. Daddy occasionally checks in on them, making sure they're comfortable and happy. He smiles, pleased to see the girls having such a good time together. It warms his heart to know that they're bonding and enjoying each other's company. With a hint of nervousness, Emma turns to Nora and whispers, "Nora, I kinda need to pee. What should I do?"
Nora grins mischievously, clearly enjoying the new adventure. "Well, Emma, you're wearing a diaper now, remember? Just relax and let it happen. It's okay, I promise!" Emma looks at Nora with uncertainty in her eyes. "I know I'm wearing a diaper, but it still feels a bit strange. What if it leaks or something?" Nora reassures her, placing a comforting hand on Emma's shoulder. "I understand, Emma. But these diapers are designed to handle it. Just trust me, and you'll see that it's not a big deal. And if anything happens, it's all part of the experience, right?" Emma nods and closes her eyes, trying to let her body do what it needs to.
After a moment, she feels the warmth spreading through the diaper. Nora smiles warmly, proud of Emma for taking this step. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"
Nora observes with a mixture of curiosity and support. She notices the initial tension in Emma's expression, followed by a gradual relaxation as she lets go. Nora sees a faint blush spread across Emma's cheeks, a sign of both embarrassment and the novelty of the experience.The diaper swells slightly as it absorbs the liquid, and Nora can hear the faint crinkle of the material. She notices how Emma's posture shifts subtly, adjusting to the changing sensation. There's a moment of vulnerability in Emma's eyes, quickly replaced by a mixture of surprise and a hint of amusement as she realizes that it's not as uncomfortable as she anticipated.
Nora chuckles playfully at the wet diaper. "Well, look at you, Emma! You did it! You're a natural at filling diapers," she teases, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Diapers aren't so bad, are they?" Emma can't help but blush, a mixture of embarrassment and a growing sense of comfort settling in. She giggles nervously, grateful for Nora's light-hearted approach to the situation. "I guess not," she admits, feeling a sense of camaraderie with her friend. Nora, still playfully teasing, leans in closer to Emma and whispers with mock seriousness, "You know, Emma, if you keep that diaper wet, I might just have to call your daddy to come and change you. Are you sure you want that?" Emma, though still feeling embarrassed, shakes her head vigorously, her cheeks flushing even more. "N-No, please don't do that, Nora. I can manage." Nora giggles, reassures her, and says, "Alright, I won't call him this time. But remember, you're in a diaper now, so accidents happen, and it's okay!" She pats Emma's back playfully before they continue with their playtime.
As the afternoon sun started to dip below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow through the windows, Emma and Nora continued their playtime. They built forts, played with dolls, and shared giggles and secrets. The initial awkwardness had faded, replaced by a newfound comfort and trust between them. Occasionally, Emma would discreetly check her diaper, still getting used to the sensation of being in one. Each time, she felt a mixture of curiosity and a tinge of embarrassment. It was a strange but oddly comforting feeling, knowing that she didn't have to worry about finding a bathroom.As the hours passed, Emma's initial nervousness gave way to a sense of freedom. She moved and played without the usual constraints of needing to find a restroom. It was a liberating experience, and she was grateful to Nora for guiding her through it.Eventually, as the sky outside darkened, signaling the approach of evening, Daddy appeared in the doorway, a warm smile on his face. "How are my two little ones doing?" he asked, his voice filled with affection. Nora beamed up at him. "We're having so much fun, Daddy!"
Emma nodded, her cheeks still carrying a faint blush. "Yes, it's been... an interesting day." Daddy chuckled and knelt down beside them. "I'm glad to hear that. Are you two ready for some dinner?"Both girls nodded eagerly, and with that, they made their way to the kitchen, hand in hand. Daddy smiled warmly as they entered the kitchen. "I've got a special surprise for you, Emma," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Emma looked at him curiously, not sure what to expect. "Oh, really?"
Daddy nodded and pointed towards a corner of the kitchen. "I brought in an extra high chair, just for you." Emma's eyes widened in surprise, and she felt a rush of mixed emotions. She was both touched by the thoughtfulness and a little self-conscious about sitting in a high chair. She was used to sitting at the table in a grown-up chair. Nora, sensing Emma's hesitation, squeezed her hand reassuringly. "It'll be fun, Emma! Like a little adventure." Emma mustered a smile and nodded. "Alright, let's give it a try."
Mr. Johnson gently lifted Emma into the high chair, and as he did, he couldn't help but notice the faint yellowish hue of her diaper. He smiled warmly at her, a mixture of pride and affection in his eyes. "You're doing great, Emma," he said, his voice filled with encouragement. "I'm really proud of you for wetting your diapers." Emma blushed at his words, feeling a swell of warmth in her chest. It meant a lot to her to hear him say that. "Thank you, Mr. Johnson," she replied, her voice soft but filled with gratitude.
Daddy made sure Emma was securely strapped into the high chair, then leaned in closer, his tone gentle and reassuring. "After dinner, if you're comfortable, we can take care of that diaper change, okay?" Emma nodded, a mix of apprehension and anticipation swirling within her. She was still getting used to this new experience, As he helped Nora into her high chair, he chuckled playfully. "Looks like I've got two soggy butts to take care of after dinner," he teased, a twinkle in his eye. Nora beamed with happiness, clearly enjoying the attention and playfulness. Emma couldn't help but blush at Mr. Johnson’s words. It was still a bit embarrassing for her, but she also felt a strange sense of comfort knowing that she wasn't the only one with a wet diaper. The delicious aroma of freshly baked pizza filled the air. Daddy had prepared a mouthwatering spread of pizzas, each topped with a variety of ingredients. The golden crusts were perfectly crispy, and the cheese was bubbling and gooey. Nora couldn't resist showing off a bit. She leaned over to Emma and whispered with a mischievous grin, "You know, my daddy learned how to make these in Napoli. They're the real deal, and I promise you're going to love them!"
Emma's curiosity was piqued. She was eager to try the pizza and see if it lived up to Nora's praise. As they all dug into their slices, the flavors exploded in their mouths, and it was clear that Daddy's pizza-making skills were top-notch. The combination of the delicious meal and the warm, accepting atmosphere made Emma feel more at ease. After the last slice of pizza had been devoured, Daddy took out some napkins and began to gently wipe the girls' hands and faces. He praised Nora for her enthusiastic approach to the meal, saying, "Nora, you sure know how to enjoy a good pizza! You're quite the messy eater, but that just means you really savor every bite." Nora beamed with pride, clearly pleased with the compliment.
Daddy noticed that Nora's diaper was getting quite full and was close to leaking. He gently said, "Alright, girls, let's get you out of those high chairs. Nora, sweetheart, your diaper looks like it's had quite the workout. We should get you first changed before we have any leaks." Daddy led Nora and Emma to the nursery, where the changing table was prepared for their diaper change. He gestured for Nora to lie down first, giving her a reassuring smile. "Alright, sweetheart, let's get you into a fresh diaper." Nora obediently lay down on the changing table, excited for the comfort of a dry diaper. Emma watched, still feeling a little nervous but also intrigued by the process.
Daddy skillfully changed Nora, chatting with her in a gentle, reassuring tone. "Alright, Nora, this will be your nighttime diaper, which means we won't need to change you until morning. You'll be all snug and cozy." Meanwhile, Emma felt a small pressure in her bladder. She shifted nervously, realizing that she might need to pee soon. As Emma observed the diaper change, a worry began to gnaw at her. She knew that if she didn't use her diaper now, she might end up sleeping in a wet one. This made her a bit anxious. Taking a deep breath, Emma mustered up the courage. She relaxed and let go, feeling the warmth spread through her diaper. The room fell momentarily quiet, save for a subtle hiss that emanated from Emma's diaper. It was a soft, almost delicate sound, like rain gently tapping against a window. Both Daddy and Nora turned their heads toward Emma, their expressions a mixture of surprise and amusement.
Daddy's eyes twinkled with warmth and a hint of mischief, while Nora's cheeks dimpled with a mischievous grin. Daddy and Nora exchanged playful glances, their eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well, it seems like Emma's getting the hang of it," Daddy remarked, his tone teasing. Nora giggled, unable to contain her amusement. Emma blushed, but deep down, she couldn't deny that there was a strange sense contentment at being accepted like this. Daddy finished changing Nora, and then with gentle hands, he lifted Emma onto the changing table. As he did, a soft squishy sound filled the air, emanating from her well-wet diaper. It was a telltale sign of her recent adventure in potty training. Emma blushed even deeper, feeling a mix of self-consciousness and curiosity. Daddy, undeterred, proceeded to expertly change her, his movements smooth and practiced. With both Emma and Nora safely snug in their dry nighttime diapers, Daddy tucked them into bed. He then picked up a storybook and began to read to them.
“<Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a princess named Ella. Princess Ella was known for her adventurous spirit and kind heart. However, she had a peculiar challenge - no matter what she did, she always seemed to find herself in need of a fresh, dry diaper.
One sunny morning, Princess Ella declared, "I shall embark on a quest to find the legendary Dry Diaper Tree, said to bear the softest and driest diapers in all the land!"
With determination in her heart, Princess Ella set off on her grand adventure, traversing forests, crossing rivers, and climbing mountains. Along the way, she met talking animals and helpful fairies, all of whom offered their guidance and support.
As the days went by, Princess Ella faced many trials and challenges. She encountered diaper-clad dragons and soggy swamps, but she pressed on, determined to find the elusive Dry Diaper Tree.
One moonlit night, as she gazed up at the starry sky, Princess Ella heard a gentle voice whisper in the wind. It was the Wise Diaper Fairy, who appeared before her with a knowing smile.
"My dear Princess," the fairy said, "the Dry Diaper Tree is not a place you must find on your own. It is the love and care of those who cherish you that will always provide you with the comfort and dryness you seek."
With newfound wisdom, Princess Ella returned to her castle, where her loving King, her Daddy, awaited her. He greeted her with open arms and a soft, fresh diaper.
From that day forward, Princess Ella learned that she need not embark on grand quests to find comfort and care. Her Daddy was always there, ready to ensure she was dry, happy, and loved.
As Daddy finished telling the fairy tale about Princess Ella and the Dry Diaper Tree, both Nora and Emma looked at each other, their eyes wide with wonder and amusement. Nora giggled first, her cheeks rosy from Daddy's storytelling. "That was such a cute story, Daddy! And it's so true, isn't it?" Emma, still feeling a bit shy but comforted by the tale, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it really is. It's all about being taken care of by the ones who love you." Daddy smiled warmly, proud of the way his story had resonated with the girls. "That's right, girls. Daddy stood by the bedside, his tall figure casting a gentle shadow in the dimly lit room. He reached over to the switch, his hand enveloping it with a reassuring confidence. With a soft click, the room plunged into a comforting darkness, illuminated only by the soft glow of the nightlight. "Goodnight, girls.“ In the soft glow of the nightlight, Emma and Nora sat on the bed, their matching nighttime diapers crinkling softly as they shifted. They whispered to each other, sharing secrets and dreams.
Emma turned to Nora, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of excitement and vulnerability. "Nora," she began, "today was... well, it was so different from anything I've ever experienced before." Nora, nestled under the blankets beside her, listened intently, her own eyes sparkling with anticipation. She nodded, encouraging Emma to continue. "I mean," Emma continued, "I've never spent a whole day in diapers before. It was... strange, but also kind of liberating. I didn't have to worry about finding a bathroom, and I could just focus on having fun with you." Nora's face lit up with understanding. "I know what you mean, Emma. It's like being in a little bubble of comfort. And, you know, I've been wearing diapers every day for a while now, so it's become really normal for me. But I'm so glad you gave it a try."
Emma smiled, grateful for Nora's support. "Yeah, it was definitely an adventure. And you and your Daddy... you're both so caring and understanding. It made it a lot easier for me to try something new like this." Nora nodded, her eyes filled with warmth. "Daddy really is the best. He always makes sure I feel safe and loved. And I'm really glad you felt comfortable too, Emma."
hey both fell into a comfortable silence, the weight of the day settling around them like a cozy blanket. It was a day filled with firsts for Emma, and she knew it was a memory she'd cherish forever.As they drifted off to sleep, the room filled with the gentle rustling of their diapers, a comforting reminder of the special bond they shared. They knew that tomorrow would bring more adventures, more laughter, and more moments of discovering new things.
[the end]
#ab/dl girl#abdreams#regression school#diaper stories#diaper captions#ab/dl caption#ab/dl stories#wetting diaper
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