#but there is no explanation for these things

[ggukivrse]

THIRD TIME'S THE CHARM | JJK

summary. when you complain to jungkook about your lack of action in the past year, you're not really asking for a solution. but when he casually offers to help, you just can't seem to bring yourself to say no.

after all, what's the worst that could happen in hooking up just this once?

pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader

genre: friends to lovers, smut, fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.7k

warnings: swearing, they actually talk about their feelings :0, explicit sexual content, kissing, making out, hickeys, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (be smarter than them pls), a bit of banter, petnames (baby), they're really fucking cute in the end it makes me sick, let me know if i missed anything!

notes: idk if this counts as my first completed series buttt... i'm gonna act like it does. thank you so so much to all the love and support you guys have given me for the past two parts, i'm genuinely so beyond grateful for it all :<< hopefully, you guys enjoy this part too!!

ps. READ PART ONE HERE & PART TWO HERE!!

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You open his chat window again like it’s muscle memory. Like your thumb don't know how to not betray you.

It’s not even about sending something. You’ve got no intention of doing that. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. But the screen is always open, staring back at you with that last unread message you sent almost a week ago — a throwaway meme you found on your lunch break. No reply. Not even a reaction.

And it hadn’t felt like a big deal in the moment. You sent it like always, light and dumb and nothing. But then the nothing kept going. No little gray typing bubble. No 'lol.' No double text. No late night 'you up?' Just this wall of silence.

You would’ve rather gotten a dry reply. Hell, even a thumbs up. Anything to prove that he saw you.

But now it’s been long enough that sending something new would feel desperate. Like you’re chasing him. Like you’re asking for something you’re not even supposed to want.

You lock your phone and throw it face down on your bed.

Then pick it back up five seconds later.

Then toss it again, harder, as if that’ll prove something.

You wish you were mad. You think you are mad — at least a little. But it’s a tangled kind of anger. One that knots itself up with embarrassment and sharp, bitter shame. You want to scream at him, yeah. But also at yourself.

Why did you let this happen?

Why did you let him blur the lines and kiss you like that and touch you like he meant it?

You were supposed to be smarter than this.

You lie back across your bed with one arm flung over your eyes. It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid. It was just sex. Just two nights. Two insanely good, dangerously close, way-too-connected nights. But still — technically just sex.

Except it wasn’t.

Not when he remembered your favourite sauce order without asking. Not when he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear while you ranted about work.

And especially not when he went cold the second things felt too good.

That’s what keeps twisting the knife. That shift in him. Like someone flipped a switch and rewrote the script. One minute, he was holding you like you mattered. The next, you were stepping out of his bathroom and into a stranger’s apartment.

You haven’t heard his voice since.

You bite the inside of your cheek and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push down that lump of feeling before it rises too high.

It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re overthinking it.

Maybe he’s just going through something. Maybe he didn’t mean to shut you out. Maybe he thought you didn’t want to hear from him. Or maybe he’s just a fucking coward who got scared when the stakes changed.

But then, why didn’t you reach out?

Why didn’t you ask if he was okay, or tell him he was being weird, or demand an explanation like you’re owed one?

Because you’re afraid.

Because you don’t want the truth if the truth is that he regrets all of it.

Because deep down, you know this isn’t just a friendship anymore, and pretending it is would break you worse than silence.

Your phone buzzes once on the comforter beside you.

You freeze. Then sit up fast, breath catching halfway in your throat.

Your eyes are already scanning the screen before your brain can fully catch up.

Kook 🍜: hi

One word. Just hi. Like the last seven days didn’t happen. Like your stomach hasn’t been in knots trying to make sense of his silence. Like he didn’t vanish without warning after folding you into his sheets and leaving you to figure out what the hell it meant.

Your breath leaves you in one uneven exhale.

You blink at the message, your body locked in this strange stillness. Your thumb hovers, frozen. Part of you is tempted to stare at it until it disappears. Ignore it. Let him feel what it’s like to be the one left hanging. But your hands betray you again — just like they always do with him.

You: Radio silence for a week and all I get is a fucking hi? Wtf Jungkook

It’s not even what you really want to say, but it’s the closest thing you can manage that doesn’t sound like I missed you so much it made me sick or please don’t do this again.

Three dots appear.

Your heart squeezes like it’s caught in someone’s fist. And then the dots vanish.

Then come back.

Then vanish again.

You mutter, “Fucking say something,” to no one. It comes out too small, too desperate. You shut your eyes tight for a second like you can wring the feeling out of yourself by force.

A minute or so passes before his reply finally sends.

Kook 🍜: sorry. can i talk to you today?

You reread it so many times the text starts to lose meaning. Can I talk to you today?

You feel sick.

There’s no way you don’t know what this is. The phrasing. The tone. He wants to talk? What the fuck else could that mean, if not that he’s about to cut things off? That he’s going to hand you some polite little speech about how you’re great, but this can’t happen again. That he wants to stay friends and he doesn’t want to confuse things any more than he already has.

Or worse — he thinks you guys are better off cutting contact all together.

You bite down hard on your thumb, suddenly on the verge of tears and furious at yourself for it. You should’ve never let it get here. You should’ve drawn the line before the second time. Before the car. Before the party.

You should’ve been more careful with your heart.

But you’re here now. So far past the line you can’t even see it anymore.

You open your keyboard, then close it again. You want to ask what he wants to talk about. You want to demand answers over text so you don’t have to see his face when he says the words. But you know you won’t get anything that way.

You: Where?

Kook 🍜: i can come to yours

You sit there for a second, just breathing. You feel like you’re bracing for a crash that’s already midair.

You: What time?

Kook 🍜: i can be there in an hour?

You don’t answer. Not right away. You’re too busy staring at your reflection in the dark screen, wondering why your face looks so calm when your body feels like it’s trying to collapse in on itself.

You: Okay

You put the phone down carefully, like it might go off again, or explode, and turn your gaze to the ceiling. Every minute after this is going to stretch like it’s mocking you.

You don’t know if you’re getting closure or clarity. You don’t even know which one would hurt more.

But you know you won't cancel.

Because if this is going to end — if he’s going to say it — it has to be to your face. You need to see it.

You need to know for sure.

Jungkook is fucked.

Like, actually, cosmically, irreversibly fucked.

He stares at the elevator doors like they’re the gates to hell, and his own reflection in the brushed metal does him no favours. He looks tense. Jaw tight, shoulders hunched up high like he’s trying to fold himself into a more manageable version. Someone chill. Someone who isn’t about to shit himself over the thought of seeing you.

He rolls his shoulders back, shakes out his hands. Useless. He’s already sweating through his hoodie.

Every nerve in his body feels like it’s tuned an octave too high. Like if someone so much as breathes in his direction right now, he’ll either snap or confess something humiliating.

He wipes his palms on his jeans again. That’s the fourth time since the lobby.

The worst part is, he knows how he got here. He knows exactly when it happened, too — the moment the line moved.

It was your laugh. The tired kind, all cracked at the edges after that hellish Friday you had. You were curled up in his passenger seat, half out of it, feet tucked under you, and you’d looked over at him with that soft, worn-down smile.

And it just… hit him.

The weight of it. Of you.

He wanted to reach over and touch your face. Not to tease. Not to start something. Just to feel your skin under his fingers like it was allowed now.

And the second that thought formed — clear and blinding and way too tender — it was over. Game fucking over.

Because it wasn’t supposed to feel like that.

You’re his best friend. Have been for years. He knows how you take your coffee, how you organise your playlists by mood, how you chew on the inside of your cheek when you're anxious. You’re not just some girl he hooked up with at a party. You’re you.

And now, he’s standing in an elevator on the way to your apartment, trying not to think about how badly he messed it all up.

He hadn’t meant to ghost you. Not really. It was just — after that night, after the way you looked at him, all warm and trusting — he panicked. Full-body, brain-scrambling, total system failure. He couldn’t even look at you without feeling like he was seconds from saying something stupid like "Don’t sleep with anyone else, please," or "I think I’m in love with you."

So instead, he shut down. Did the one thing he always swore he wouldn’t do with you — he pulled away. Got weird. Avoided it. Avoided you.

And now you’re pissed.

Rightfully so.

He deserved that text you sent. Probably worse. You could’ve ignored him completely and he wouldn’t have blamed you. But you didn’t. You texted back and he’s clinging onto that like a lifeline. Because it means there’s still time. Still a chance to fix it — if he doesn’t blow it again.

He presses the heel of his hand to his chest like that might steady the erratic rhythm of his heart.

What the fuck is he even going to say?

Sorry for being an emotionally constipated idiot?

Sorry I ghosted you because I realised I’m in love with you and it short-circuited my whole fucking personality?

Sorry I thought I could fuck you and still keep pretending like you don’t mean more to me than anyone else?

The elevator dings.

Jungkook flinches like it slapped him, then scrubs a hand through his hair, lets out a tight breath, and steps through the doors before he can change his mind.

He’s here.

Fuck. He’s actually here.

Jungkook looks like he didn’t sleep last night. Hair messy, clothes a little wrinkled, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a second before they dart away again. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jacket like he’s afraid of what they’ll do if left unsupervised.

You tell yourself not to feel relieved. Not to let it show. He didn’t cancel. He showed up. That shouldn’t mean as much as it does. It really, really shouldn’t.

But still — there’s something in your chest that unclenches when you see him standing there, real and present. Even if he does look like he’s about to apologise for burning down your house or something.

“Hey,” he says, voice quiet.

You step back from the door to let him in. Dry. Wordless. The move is automatic, but your body feels stiff with it, like your own muscles are annoyed on your behalf.

He hesitates before stepping inside, like he thinks the floor might swallow him up. You don't offer a smile. Don't even look at him once the door’s closed behind him.

You cross your arms and lean back against the edge of the kitchen counter, watching him with a blank expression that’s only half-real. The other half is tightly coiled under your skin — anger, sure, but under that, all the feelings you’ve been pretending not to have.

He does a slow, uncertain glance around your apartment like something might’ve changed since the last time he was here. But it hasn’t. It’s still your place. Same plants, same overhead light humming softly, same faint scent of laundry detergent that clings to the air.

He stands there awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. It’s like he doesn’t know where to put his body.

You’ve never seen him like this before. Not around you. Jungkook’s always been comfortable here. The kind of comfortable that leaves shoes by the door without asking. The kind that opens your fridge like he owns a shelf. But right now, he looks like a stranger in someone else’s house.

You let the silence stretch out. You’re waiting for him to just speak, but he doesn’t

He doesn’t even try.

Eventually, your voice cuts through the air, a little too sharp. “Jungkook, you said you wanted to talk.”

His head snaps up like he forgot that was part of the deal. Like the fact that he came here at all already cost him everything he had in reserve.

“Yeah,” he says. His throat moves when he swallows. “I do.”

You raise your eyebrows, waiting.

He opens his mouth like he’s about to start, then closes it again. Shifts his stance. Rubs the back of his neck with one hand. You catch the way his eyes flick to the floor, then back to you, then away again.

You narrow your eyes. “Well?”

He breathes out a weak, almost bitter laugh and runs both hands down his thighs, like he’s physically trying to ground himself. “I don’t know how to do this,” he mutters.

You frown, arms still crossed tight across your chest. “What? Talk?”

You hate being like this towards him — you feel like a bitch. But it’s the only way that you can stop yourself from just spilling all of your thoughts and feelings to him.

“No, I—” He breaks off, jaw flexing. “No. I mean… say the right thing. Say any of it without sounding like an idiot.”

You blink, unimpressed. “So you came here without knowing what you were gonna say.”

He looks at you then. Fully. And for the first time since he walked in, you see the real wreckage behind his eyes. There’s nothing cool or casual about it. He’s unravelling in slow motion. Everything about him is quiet desperation wrapped in someone trying really hard not to fall apart.

“I didn’t know what to say because I didn’t know what I wanted,” he says finally. “And then I figured it out, and that somehow made it worse.”

You stay silent.

He shifts closer, not by much — just a few inches. “I fucked up,” he adds, voice barely above a whisper. “I know I did. I know I disappeared. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t care. I was just—” he stops, jaw tightening again. “I got scared.”

You scoff under your breath and look away.

“I’m serious,” he says, softer now. “It freaked me out. How fast it happened. How much it changed.”

You look back at him, jaw set. “What changed?”

He swallows again. Stiff. His voice cracks a little when he speaks next.

“You,” he says again. “How I feel about you. That changed.”

Your chest tightens.

You don’t react, not visibly. You keep your face still, unreadable, even though your brain is suddenly scrambling. You’ve been yanked in too many directions this past week. You’re not going to lean into hope just because he finally decided to speak.

So you say nothing. You just hold his gaze and wait.

Jungkook takes a breath, his shoulders rising with it, then falling in a slow, deliberate exhale. The nervousness is still there — but it’s settled into something quieter now.

“I kept trying to tell myself it didn’t mean anything,” he says. “That it was just— whatever. Two friends, getting carried away. We were drunk the first time, right? It was easy to lie to myself about that. Easy to say it didn’t have to go anywhere.”

His voice is calm, but there's tension underneath it.

“But the second time?” He pauses, tongue running along the inside of his cheek, eyes still locked on yours. “That wasn’t drunk. That wasn’t casual. That was me driving us across town just to make you feel better, because I can’t stand it when you’re not okay.”

You flinch — barely — but he sees it. You know he does.

“And then it was me kissing you like I’d lose my mind if I didn’t. You think I didn’t notice how different that felt? I’ve never kissed you like that before. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air between you.

You’re still standing by the counter, arms crossed, but now your grip has loosened. You hate how much this is getting to you, how badly you want to give in, how your chest aches just hearing him say the things you’d only let yourself think when the lights were off and your phone screen was dark.

Jungkook takes another step toward you.

“When I brought you back to mine that night… when you came out of the shower, and I saw you just standing there in my space, looking at me like I was safe…” His voice catches, but not in a way that makes him crumble — just enough to show the truth of it. “I freaked the fuck out.”

You blink at him, finally speaking. “Yeah. I noticed.”

He huffs out a breath that's almost a laugh, but not quite. “I didn’t mean to shut down. I didn’t even know what I was doing in the moment. I just— everything in me wanted to pull you close, and that’s when I realised I couldn’t keep doing this the way we were doing it. Not without losing my shit every time you left.”

Your throat feels tight, but you still ask, “So you decided to ghost me instead?”

That lands. His jaw flexes, and he nods once. “Yeah. I did. I thought if I gave it space, I could go back to being normal. Go back to just being your friend. But I couldn’t. I can’t.

“I don’t want to be just your friend anymore. Not because of the sex, not because it was good— which it was, but that’s not the point. It’s you. It’s always been you. I didn’t realise how much until I almost lost it completely.”

You swallow hard. Your arms are uncrossed now. Not folded in, not defensive — just hanging at your sides like you’re too stunned to remember what to do with them.

Jungkook steps in closer. Not touching you yet. But near enough that you can smell him — faint cologne, his laundry detergent, the scent you associate with your car windows fogging up.

“I missed you,” he says, and his voice turns softer. “Every day. And it scared the shit out of me, how badly I wanted to talk to you. Touch you. Just be around you. I wasn’t ready to admit it last week, and I was a coward for that. But I’m not running anymore.”

Silence again.

Except it doesn’t feel like the ones you’ve been drowning in for a week.

“I don’t know what you’re feeling,” he says, lower now, like the words might break if he’s too loud. “And I’m not assuming anything. But if you still want me around— really want me— just say the word. I’ll figure out the rest.”

You inhale slowly, try to even out your breathing, but your chest still feels like it’s barely holding together. Your heart’s doing that thing where it thuds too hard without speeding up.

You hate that you believe him. That you always would’ve. That no matter how angry you were, no matter how cold you tried to be when he walked in — you still wanted him to explain, to prove it wasn’t what your worst thoughts told you it was.

And now he has.

He’s standing in front of you with open hands, with the words you oh so desperately wanted to hear. And for a moment, you’re not sure what to do with that.

“I hate you,” you say quietly.

It’s not true. Not even close. But it’s the first thing that leaves your mouth.

Jungkook huffs out a dry laugh, eyes dropping to the floor. “Yeah,” he murmurs, nodding. “I figured.”

You shake your head once. “No. I mean it. I fucking hate you for this. For—” You break off, because your voice is shaking now. “For making me feel like I was crazy. For not even saying goodnight after… after everything.”

His face tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“You could’ve just told me,” you go on. “You could’ve said it was too much. That it got weird. That you needed time. Anything. But you disappeared. And I had to sit here wondering if I made it all up."

You pause, pressing your lips together.

“And I— I missed you too, you know,” you add, quieter this time.

His mouth opens like he might speak, but no sound comes out at first. Instead, he closes the space between you by half, slow and steady, like he’s afraid of pushing too far.

“God, you’re such an asshole,” you whisper, but your tone isn't mean. Not even close.

He laughs, soft and low. “Yeah. I know.

“You promise me you’re sure? Cause Jungkook, I will fucking cut off your dick if you pull this shit again.”

He smiles but doesn’t hesitate. “I promise. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

You stare at him.

Long enough that the air between you stretches taut, thin as thread.

His hand twitches like he wants to reach for you but still doesn’t know if he’s allowed. His jaw flexes, his chest rising and falling in uneven swells. You can tell he’s waiting — for a sign, for a go-ahead, for you.

And even though part of you still wants to be mad, still wants to make him sweat just a little longer, the rest of you aches. For his mouth. For his hands. For the solid, grounding weight of him.

So you move.

You step into the last inch of space between you and grab the front of his hoodie. He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a year, but you don’t give him a chance to say anything.

You kiss him.

Not out of impulse. Not for show. You kiss him because you need to. Because your chest feels like it’s going to split open if you don’t.

At first, it’s quiet. Just lips pressed to lips — careful, slow. There’s a pause between each pass of your mouth over his, like you’re both trying to remember how this started. How you even got here.

But then he sighs against you — not loud, not dramatic, just a sound full of relief — and it unravels something.

His hands lift, hesitating for only half a second before they settle on your waist, fingers curling tight. You press closer, and his lips part beneath yours. The angle shifts. Your nose bumps his cheek. It’s not perfect, but it’s real, and when your tongue brushes his, everything tilts.

The sweetness melts fast.

He makes a sound low in his throat and drags you in like the distance is unbearable. Your hands slide up into his hair, fingers threading through the strands at the base of his neck, and the way he reacts — the little shiver he tries to swallow — sends heat straight down your spine.

You kiss him harder.

His body crowds yours until your back meets the wall. Not rough, not rushed. Just firm. His chest presses to yours, and you can feel the way his heart races. How your own pulse kicks up to match it.

The kiss deepens, turns messy at the edges. His teeth catch your bottom lip and your breath stutters, but you don’t pull back. You tilt your chin, chasing more, and the next time he kisses you, it’s hungrier. One of his hands slips to the small of your back, palm dragging slow and warm beneath your shirt. The skin-to-skin contact makes your whole body twitch.

You gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the sound, his hands tightening. His other arm slips around your waist completely, pulling you flush against him, and suddenly you’re not thinking anymore. You’re just feeling.

The tension that’s been bottling up between you two — the silence, the week of wondering, the ache of missing him so much it hurt — it all floods to the surface.

You fist your hands in his hoodie, yanking him impossibly closer. Your hips shift forward, just enough to brush him, and the sound he makes is sharp and involuntary, caught between a breath and a groan.

“Fuck,” he mutters, barely pulling back. His forehead presses to yours, breath ragged. “You’re driving me insane.”

You huff, lips brushing his. “That’s fair.”

Then he kisses you again. Rougher this time. Desperate in a way that makes your knees go soft.

He doesn’t stay at your mouth for long. His lips trail down — your jaw, your cheek, the shell of your ear. His breath is hot and uneven, and when he finds your neck, your whole body reacts. Your hands clutch at him, your back arches off the wall, and the soft sound that escapes your throat isn’t one you mean to make.

He feels it. Hears it. Answers it with a low, reverent sound that seems to vibrate straight through you.

His tongue traces the spot beneath your ear, slow and deliberate, and your eyes flutter shut.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, your breath catching sharp in your throat. You pull back for a second before lowering your mouth to his neck, right where the collar of his hoodie dips. He lets out a small sound, hands flexing on your waist, when your lips press there.

You start slow. You can feel his pulse under your tongue, the way his chest rises against yours, unsteady and warm. Then you part your lips and suck gently at the spot just below his jaw. His whole body stutters, hips jerking against yours before he can stop it.

Your fingers trail down his chest, tugging his hoodie collar aside for better access. His head tips back, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted.

You do it again, this time with enough pressure to leave a mark, and the sound of your mouth working against his skin is lewd.

He groans. It’s low and rough and barely held back, and the sound shoots straight between your legs. You feel him hardening now, undeniable through the fabric where he’s pressed against you.

“All mine?” you whisper, your lips brushing over the new mark you’ve left.

He doesn’t even hesitate. “All yours.”

His voice is breathless. Wrecked. And so damn certain it knocks something loose in your chest.

You pull back just enough to look at him — really look. His pupils are blown, his lips swollen, a flush climbing high on his cheeks. He looks at you like he wants to devour you. Like he would if you let him.

“I missed that mouth,” he mutters, hands gliding under your shirt again, palms broad and warm. “Missed everything.”

You kiss his throat in reply and drag your teeth across it until he swears under his breath.

His hips grind against you again, harder this time. You both feel it — the friction, the heat building between your bodies.

His arms shift beneath you and he lifts you clean off the ground in one smooth motion, hands strong under your thighs. A startled sound escapes your throat as your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, gripping him tight.

“Fuck,” he mutters again, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “I want you so bad it’s actually stupid.”

You smile, drunk on the feel of him.

“Bedroom?” you murmur, tracing your lips over the new mark blooming against his skin.

He hums lowly, and shifts his grip on your thighs.

He carries you through the hallway and your lips never leave his skin for more than a second.

When he reaches your bedroom, he doesn’t hesitate. He steps inside and drops you onto the mattress in one fluid movement.

You barely get your bearings before he’s crawling over you, slotting his body between your legs, His mouth finds yours again, and you moan into it before you can stop yourself when his knee presses between your legs.

Your hips twitch, grinding down against the pressure, and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through your chest as his mouth moves with yours. His hand slips under your shirt again, this time bolder, fingers spanning across your ribs and inching higher until his knuckles brush the curve of your breast.

You gasp softly, and he pulls back just enough to murmur, “Off.”

You sit up just enough to grab the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head in one smooth pull, your hair mussed from the friction. He watches the fabric fall to the floor, then looks at you.

“You’re so fucking pretty," he breathes.

You roll your eyes automatically, even though your face is already burning. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” he says, and his voice drops low. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His lips part and he kisses along your sternum — slow, wet presses of his mouth that trail up and then out, over the swell of one breast, then the other.

You inhale sharply when his mouth grazes the sensitive skin beside your nipple, and his eyes flick up at the sound, pupils blown. He kisses lower, then higher again, murmuring against your skin, “Can’t believe I went a week without this.”

The vibration of his voice right against your skin makes you arch, and he meets you halfway, grinding down slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly what you’re chasing and wants to stretch it out just to watch you squirm.

Your hands curl into his shoulders, nails biting down just enough to make him grunt softly into your skin. He rolls his hips again, slow and heavy, and the pressure against your core has your breath catching in your throat.

“Koo,” you whine out.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, lips pink and wet, hair falling into his eyes. He grins, crooked and hot and deeply pleased with himself.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, and his voice is pure sin.

You glare, but your thighs shift open under him anyway.

“Please.”

He hums, satisfied, and starts working his way lower. Every kiss is wet and unhurried. Down your chest, across your stomach. His hands follow, smoothing over your ribs, down to your hips, dragging the waistband of your pants just slightly with them. His thumbs hook in the fabric, pausing right above your pelvis.

He looks up at you, smug and dark-eyed.

“Gonna let me take these off?”

He's so annoying you're gonna kill him. “Do I look like I’m stopping you?”

“No,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss just below your navel, “but I like hearing you say it.”

You huff, fingers threading into his hair again. “Take them off, Kook.”

He eases them down slowly — too slowly — dragging the fabric down your legs while his mouth follows in a path of heat and pressure. He kisses your hipbone, your inner thigh, every patch of skin he uncovers like it’s something sacred. When your panties go next, he makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat — more reverent than smug this time.

You’re already wet, already aching, and from the way his eyes flicker as he takes you in, he fucking knows it.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re soaked. You missed me that much?”

You exhale hard, cheeks hot. “Shut up and do something about it.”

He grins again, slower this time. “Anything you want.”

His hands grip your thighs and spread them further apart, and before you can say another word, his mouth is on you.

The first swipe of his tongue is long, and delibirate. You jerk at the contact, a broken sound slipping from your lips, and he groans like he’s the one falling apart. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you in place, and does it again.

Every movement of his tongue is practiced and precise. He starts slow, almost gentle, licking through your folds with a kind of focus that makes your head spin. Your thighs threaten to close around his head, but he pushes them apart with ease, never breaking rhythm.

Your hands move to the back of his head, gripping tight. His tongue circles your clit once, then again, and the third time he sucks it between his lips. You try to stifle a moan, but it slips from your lips anyway.

He pulls back just enough to speak, breath hot on your skin.

“Keep making those sounds, baby,” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “Wanna hear every fucking thing I do to you.”

He movements turn faster, his mouth messy and hot and relentless. You’re already close, the build-up sharp and climbing, and he can feel it. One of his hands slips lower, spreading you open further with his thumb, and his tongue drags in tighter circles.

You’re writhing, panting, toes curling into the sheets. Your fingers tug at his hair, your spine arching off the bed.

“Fuck— Kook—” you gasp, head thrown back.

He groans again, the sound vibrating straight through your pussy. He doubles down, mouth moving faster, and when your hips start to stutter, erratic and desperate, he presses his hand over your stomach, grounding you.

“You’re gonna come for me?” he murmurs against you, mouth slick with you. “Gonna let me taste it?”

You nod frantically, unable to speak, your whole body wound tight and ready to snap.

He presses his mouth against you again, lips sucking against your clit, and the feeling has you squirming with pleasure.

“Kook—” your voice breaks open as you come hard against his mouth.

He moans, but his movements don't stop.

Your body arches helplessly, heels digging into the bed, one hand fisted in the sheets, the other still tangled in his hair as you ride out the wave. You’re gasping, blinking hard, your heart trying to punch through your ribs.

Only when your legs start to tremble uncontrollably does he finally pull back.

His lips are slick and swollen, jaw damp, hair messy from where you’ve been gripping it. And he looks wrecked — eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide, like just being between your thighs has undone something in him.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then drags his lips slowly up your inner thigh, leaving lazy kisses in his wake.

You’re still catching your breath, staring at the ceiling like your soul just left your body, when he plants a final kiss on the inside of your knee and murmurs, “Yeah. I’m never ghosting you again.”

You let out a breathless laugh, too blissed out to be mad. “You better not.”

“After that?” he says, crawling back up your body, slow and unhurried. “I’d be clinically insane.”

He settles over you again, pressing a warm, open-mouthed kiss to your stomach, then another between your breasts, then finally your mouth. You taste yourself on his tongue, and when he groans against your lips, it sends a fresh jolt of heat straight through you.

His body is flush against yours, his clothed cock thick and heavy where it presses against your thigh. You let your hands trail down his chest slowly to tug at the denim loops of his jeans.

"Want these off," you mumble against his lips.

He smiles and presses one last kiss to your mouth before he leans back onto his knees. His hands go to his belt, and you watch the way his fingers fumble for just a second.

He gets the buckle undone, then the zipper, the sound louder than it should be in your quiet bedroom. You watch as he shucks them down, boxers and all, and your breath catches slightly at the sight of him — flushed and hard and achingly ready.

“Better?” he asks, voice low.

You nod, breath shallow, and he’s already crawling back over you. The heat of him sinks into your skin as his body settles between your thighs, bare now.

Your legs part without hesitation.

His weight, the press of his chest to yours, the familiar scent of him wrapped in something raw and new — it all hits at once, and your whole body shivers.

He’s warm everywhere. The kind of warmth that soaks into your bones and makes you ache for more.

His hands slide along your arms until they find yours where they’re resting above your head. He threads his fingers through yours and presses them gently into the pillow, pinning you there. His eyes search yours, and you feel the first brush of him between your legs, just the tip, teasing the edge of you.

He doesn’t move yet. Just rests there, eyes locked on yours.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice low and thick, like he’s hanging on by a thread.

You don’t answer — not with words. You just tilt your hips up, welcoming him in with nothing but a look.

He pushes in slow — painfully slow — each inch dragging fire across your nerves as your body stretches to take him. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, your fingers clenching around his. When he’s fully buried inside you, he stills completely.

“Fuck,” he breathes, forehead dropping to yours. “You feel… unreal.”

You can’t speak — your body’s too full, too wrecked already — so you kiss him instead. Slow and sweet and a little desperate. Your hips rock up, seeking more.

He groans into your mouth, finally starting to move, and every thrust is so fucking deep. It’s not rushed or frantic. It’s him savouring you, like he wants to remember how this feels with every part of himself.

His hands stay tight around yours, anchoring you both to the bed, to each other.

The rhythm builds, a slow burn that spreads everywhere, and between kisses you catch the way he looks at you — like he’s seeing something he’s afraid to lose. Like there’s something he wants to say but can’t yet.

“You were supposed to beg,” you manage to murmur against his mouth, breathless. “Grovel a little.”

That crooked smile curls against your lips. “My bad, baby,” he murmurs. “You can make me beg next time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re gonna regret that.”

He shifts his hips, thrusting deeper, and your breath leaves you in a ragged gasp.

“You promise?”

The challenge in his voice is smug, but his eyes are dark and glassy, his control hanging by a thread. You whimper in response, thighs tightening around his waist, and he dips his head to your throat, dragging his lips along your pulse like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.

He starts to move with more purpose now, making you feel every second of it. His cock grinds into that spot that makes your vision blur, and your whole body tenses, fingers squeezing his like a lifeline.

The moan you let out is shameless, high and wrecked, when he tilts his hips just right — again and again, like he’s carving his name into your body from the inside.

“Right there?” he murmurs, already knowing. His hand slips between your bodies, thumb finding your clit with the kind of confidence that only comes from knowing you — every reaction, every sound. “God, you’re so fucking wet. You always get like this for me?”

“Koo—” His name slips out broken, a warning and a plea wrapped in one.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, voice ragged, forehead pressed to yours. His thrusts get rougher now, faster, the rhythm losing polish but gaining intensity. “Let me have you, baby. Come again for me.”

The words send a bolt of heat straight to your core, your whole body winding tight. His mouth crashes against yours before you can respond, tongue tangling with yours, greedy and open and honest in all the ways his words still aren’t.

When he pulls back, he’s panting, “You feel like heaven, fuck.”

You can’t even process it — not now, not when his rhythm stutters and his hips slam harder, each thrust jolting a cry from your throat. Your legs are trembling, your grip bruising where it clings to him, and you can feel the knot in your stomach tighening.

“That’s it,” he groans, watching your face like it’s the only thing that matters. “Let go for me. Let me feel you.”

You bury your face in his shoulder, teeth catching on his skin as your orgasm crashes over you. Your body locks up, thighs clenching, and you cry out his name. His hand squeezes yours back, holding you through it.

Your walls grip him tight, and he groans loud against your skin, hips faltering. “Fuck— shit—”

He thrusts once more before spilling into you with a broken sound, voice rasping your name like a prayer.

His whole body shudders as he comes, arms locked tight around you like he needs you to stay exactly where you are — here, under him, around him, real. His forehead drops to your shoulder, damp curls brushing your skin as he exhales, long and shaky.

Neither of you move right away. The air between you is thick with heat and breath and a comforting silence.

Eventually though, he shifts just enough to press a kiss to your collarbone. Then another, softer.

His hand slides along your waist, fingertips brushing lazy patterns into your skin. You hum under your breath — not a word, just a sound — and he responds by kissing your shoulder again.

Your legs are still tangled together. His body still half-draped over yours. There’s a mess between your thighs and sweat clinging to your skin, and you should probably say something, anything — but there’s something sweet about the silence now. It’s soft. Unspoken. Peaceful, in a weirdly intimate way.

He shifts again, easing out of you with a quiet groan, and you wince a little at the loss.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, running a hand gently over your thigh like an apology.

“It’s fine,” you breathe, eyes closed, chest still rising and falling too fast.

He doesn’t go far. Just rolls to the side, still close enough that his leg stays pressed against yours, and reaches for the blanket to pull it up over you both. He tugs you into his chest like second nature, burying his nose in your hair, his hand stroking absently up and down your arm.

“You good?” he asks softly, lips brushing your temple.

“Yeah,” you say, quieter now. “You?”

He pauses. Then he nods against your skin. “Yeah. More than.”

You lay there like that for a while, heartbeats evening out. He’s still drawing shapes on your skin — fingertips slow, mindless — and you smile to yourself, warmth blooming low in your stomach.

“So,” you murmur eventually, voice still hoarse. “What now? We high-five and call it a night?”

He huffs a laugh into your hair. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no to a high-five.”

You laugh, nudging him with your shoulder. “Cocky.”

“Confident,” he corrects, grinning. “But really—” He shifts a little so he can see your face, one hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “If we’re doing this, I wanna do it right.”

You blink, caught off-guard by the sudden sincerity in his voice. “Do what right?”

He raises an eyebrow, like it should be obvious. “Us.”

There’s a pause. You look at him, and he looks at you, and it’s terrifying and sweet all at once.

“I really like you,” he says, quieter this time. “And I’m not just saying that because I just got laid.” He cracks a small smile. “Though, to be fair, that was mind-blowing.”

You snort. “So humble.”

“I’m serious,” he says, nudging your nose with his. “I’ll take you out. I’ll plan dumb dates. I’ll be obnoxiously charming and show up with flowers. I’ll be— like— a gentleman, or whatever.”

You give him a look. “You should’ve done all that before you fucked me.”

His grin spreads. “Yeah, well. Guess I got the order wrong. You gonna hold that against me?”

“Maybe,” you say, lips twitching.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says, fingers brushing your cheek. “You’ll see. I’ll be so romantic it’ll make you want to punch me.”

“I already want to punch you.”

“And yet,” he says smugly, pulling you closer, “you’re still in my bed.”

“This is my bed, dumbass.”

He pauses. “Okay, fair. But I am naked in it. With you.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face won’t go away. His arm tightens around your waist, and you let yourself relax into it — into him. For once, it doesn’t feel like something to second-guess.

He kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.

You tuck your face into his neck and sigh. “You better bring the good flowers. Like the ones that don’t die in two days.”

“Oh, so now you’re picky?”

“You said dates and flowers. I’m holding you to it.”

“Noted,” he says, fingers threading into your hair. “I’m gonna be so disgustingly good to you.”

You laugh softly into his skin.

And he just holds you tighter.

⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist. ⌗ feedback

[sweetstrawberrysky]

Ranking the LADS from who is most to least likely to playfully smack your ass while walking past you.

Sylus - No explanation needed, the man is shameless, especially if your relationship has long since been established. Yes, he full expects and accepts your revenge of smacking his own butt in return, even if you put more force into your smack than he did for you.

Caleb - It’s more of a “your butt was calling for me in those shorts, it’s not my fault please don’t be mad at me, pipsqueak” type of slap. He is simply unable to refrain if you’re wearing shorts around him. The man just wants to feel your ass and chuckle at your reaction, all the while his ears are turning beet red because he never thought he would get the chance to be this bold with you.

Rafayel - His would be a playful tap. Walking past you, quickly giving you a once over because he wants to remember every inch of you at every chance, then spontaneously deciding to give you a little love tap. Only to immediately regret it when you turn around and start attacking his own butt.

Zayne - It would mainly center around you being a little cheeky or saying something he wasn’t expecting you to say, and he lightly pinches your butt/hip area in retaliation. His is definitely more of a playful scolding, and he loves the slight jolt that wracks your body because of it.

Xavier - Let’s be real, you’re the one smacking his butt in this relationship. If anything, he’s more likely to full on grab your butt just because he wants to. Let’s say you’re simply cuddling and his hands venture just a little bit, enough to simply hold your rear/the top of your thighs. It’s up to you if want to keep cuddling or let things get heated, he’s not complaining either way.

[ryllen]

Okay, but the depiction of mostrolounge boss falling so low and had to take part time job at ur local cinema is so funny to me

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Corruption kink with boyfriend Simon Riley, part 6 (nsfw)

Part 5 here

Simon can’t lie. He’s been dying to eat you out. As in, dying. He’s dreamt about it, imagined it, jerked off to it…And he can’t wait any longer.

“Baby, you ever imagine my mouth on you?” he asks quietly as he kisses at your neck. You’re on the bed, just cuddling, but the way he’s been holding you too tight is a clear indicator that this is gonna go a little further.

“How do you mean?” you ask, and Simon almost melts. He keeps forgetting what a sweet, innocent thing you are. God, it turns him on so bad.

And it makes him want to make you as filthy as he is.

“My mouth on your pussy,” he explains, a hand slipping between your legs and cupping your mound as if to emphasize his words. Your breath hitches and he grins. You’re wearing one of his shirts and a pair of panties, nothing else.

You’re in trouble.

“But why would you put your mouth down there?” you question. “It’s dirty.”

He tsks. “Oh, baby. It ain’t dirty. Why would you think that, love?”

You seem scandalized. The expression on your face equal parts adorable and amusing to him. “But…but…” You stutter in your struggle to find an explanation.

“I promise you’ll enjoy it,” he says as he gets off the bed. He grabs your ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed, your legs dangling over the side. He kneels in front of you, his eyes ablaze with desire. “Don’t overthink it.”

You just watch him with wide eyes as he kisses at your thighs, his lips causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. He moves up, up, up the inside of your thighs, getting closer to your mound.

He nuzzles his nose against your pussy through the cotton of your panties and growls like a fucking animal at your scent. His cock stirs with interest. He mouths at you, kissing and licking at the very center of your panties until your breathing is heavy.

He tugs your underwear off, almost hasty in his haze of need, and he grabs your legs, placing your thighs on his shoulders. He looks up at you, meets your uncertain gaze, and he dives in.

His tongue parts your folds before licking up your slit, towards that needy little bud you’re so obsessed with him touching. You reward him with a gasp and he grins.

He licks at your clit gently, tongue swirling around it then over it, alternating until your legs are quivering. And then he buries his face in your pussy, nose against your clit, tongue slipping into you.

Your back arches, beautiful moans pulled from you as your thighs press together against his head. He groans and doubles up his efforts. He doesn’t care if your thighs suffocate him; he’s going to make you come on his mouth even if it kills him.

Your body starts shaking, your moans ring throughout the room, and you’re writhing and twisting in the bed.

There’s a moment where everything in you tenses, freezes, and then you come, arousal gushing right onto his mouth. Simon gasps, groans, and laps it up like a starved animal. He’s barely weaned you off your high when he stands up, shoves his sweatpants down, and comes on your stomach, the thick ropes of his cum warm and sticky on your skin.

He collapses onto the bed next to you, both of you breathing heavily.

“See, baby? That ain’t dirty. It’s worship—it’s sacred.”

---

Taglist

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*if you wanna be added to my Ghost taglist, lmk 💛

---

Blog masterlist

[autriceatheart]

it's okay, me too

the propaganda i am falling for

[mononijikayu]

thinking about how ryomen sukuna husband, marin the dog's dad, national athelete, pro-volleyball player is now stuck in this conundrum of a situation.

if he was being honest, he didn't even know how the national japanese team social media manager got him to do this. maybe it was because they bribed him with his favorite protein shake. maybe it was because they promised to stop bugging him.

but if he admit that they were the things that got him, it would be a lie. no, it was all the hd pictures of you from all the previous games these past season.

he didn't know they had existed since now. but because they had them, he had to get it. he had to get those really pretty pictures of you and keep it for only him.

ryomen sukuna was already regretting saying yes to the lie detector segment. he’d done interviews before for everything and not once has he ever been nervous.

after games, in locker rooms, on buses that smelled like sweat and glory. even when he was exhausted and ragged in the bones and just wanted to go home and sleep hugging you, he'd do it. even if it was a hassle.

but this situation was different. he was terrified. why shouldn't he be terrified? this was a whole different thing and people just knew it. everything about this was not something he was used to.

this was wires, blinking lights, a host who smiled like he knew too much, and a chair that felt suspiciously like it belonged in an interrogation room.

still, he looked good and cool.

sleeves rolled just enough.

the usual cocky slouch.

he had to fake it till he made it.

“all set?” the the social media manager asked, grinning.

sukuna shrugged. “unless this thing shocks me when i lie, yeah.”

they started easy. and he liked that. is your hair naturally pink? no. (duh.) do you think you’re the best player on the national team? yes. (double duh.)

each answer got a soft, obedient beep. truth. he was cruising. smooth. untouchable. until the host pulled a new card. this one looked different. evil, even. ryomen sukuna could sense it. he could feel it in his bones.

“sukuna-san, here's your next question.” the social media manager said slowly, way too pleased with himself, “is it true that when you were newly eighteen, you and your now-wife, [name]-san, had a pregnancy scare… and her dad almost murdered you for it?”

sukuna blinked. once. twice. “…i’m sorry. what?”

someone behind the camera snorted. sukuna’s eyes narrowed. and then, he heard it. he could feel his eye twitch all the sudden. your laugh. soft, familiar, and 100% guilty.

his jaw dropped. “oh my god. you’re here.”

you didn’t even try to deny it at all. i mean, this was the first time in a long while you'd gotten to be ridiculous. especially now that you've come back to work and had your hectic schedule again.

you always took the opportunity when it was offered. so, you sat somewhere off to the side and let yourself be silly. you laughed once again when you heard him curse.

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “you really sent that in? seriously?”

the host was trying very hard not to lose it.

“answer the question, sukuna-san!"

he sighed. long-suffering. dramatic.

“…fine. yeah. it’s true.”

beep. truth.

and just like that, the flashback hit him like a football to the face. it happend when you were teenagers, last year of high school. nothing even happened back then. it was just hanging out most of the time.

well, there was the occassional making out. but even when it went somewhere, you both stopped. and even when you wanted to, sukuna was the one to stop it all.

after all, he didn't want to ruin your future. you wanted to be an astrophysicist. you had a dream and he wanted you to focus on that. as much as he focused on volleyball.

so that day, it was all too different. and he could feel it in the air. you were on his massive bed, staring at your phone like it owed you an explanation.

sukuna walked in, unwrapping a sandwich, and you just… said it. “my love, i’m ten days late.”

he dropped the sandwich. “what do you mean, ten days late?”

“i mean what i said, my love. i'm late.” you said calmly, yawning in between. “ten. days. late. no period. no signs. my uterus is a cryptid.”

sukuna looked like he aged ten years on the spot. "w-what do you mean? w-we.... we didn't do anything just yet—"

"well i'm not sure!" you whispered to him. "i mean, when on my birthday, we both went and drank together quite a bit and—"

"yeah but i don't remember anything happening!" he says, choking as his red turned flushed. he stops and then his eyes go wide. "wait....i blacked out right?"

"yeah and maybe......" you hide your face in your hands, feeling like you were going to cry.

“okay. okay. don’t panic.” he said, immediately panicking. “we’ll go to a clinic. or a pharmacy. or maybe time travel. can we still time travel?”

you were surprisingly calm, at least from the standards usually had on pregnancy reactions. ryomen sukuna, on the other hand, looked like he was about to faint at the mere thought of diapers and daycare. but the worst part wasn’t the scare.

it was doing the impossible. it was telling your dad about everything. your ex-military, early-rising,suspicious-of-every-boy-on-earth dad, without him getting mad.

you told him while your poor unfortunate boyfriend was in the house. well, he thought that it was appropriate. even if he was shitting himself.

he was sitting politely in the living room with a mug of tea when you broke the news. your dad turned and just stared at sukuna. no yelling. no questions.

just pure, soul-piercing silence. for five whole minutes. ryomen sukuna sat frozen, gripping the mug like it was a grenade. it might be one of the worst days of his life.

you tried to ease the tension. “it’s probably just stress! we’re being responsible! we’re not even sure—”

your dad stood up. slowly. like an ancient god rising to smite. sukuna stood too. immediately. like his legs were possessed. your boyfriend, the former troublemaker and fist slammer, looked scared for the first time in his life.

“s-sir, respectfully, we're not....we're not even sure.” he blurted, voice cracking, “but i can swear to you that i respect your daughter. i-i swear....i'm going to take responsibility."

you covered your face all througout. ryomen sukuna, like years before, started mumbling about how from the very beginning, he's willing to stand up for you and be a father if you were pregnant. it was quite a thing.

in the end, you had nothing to worry about. after you took multiple tests, you were not pregnant. and a few days later, sukuna remembered what happened (likely out of fear of your father) and told you that you did not in fact make love.

back in the studio, ryomen sukuna shook his head like he was still recovering. he sighed as he looked at you. you were smiling at him giving him a thumbs up.

“i had nightmares about that stare for months!” he said. “every time her dad looked at me when i came by the house, i thought he was imagining my funeral arrangements.”

you laughed again off-camera, totally unapologetic. you were really lucky you were cute. he really couldn't get mad. not at you. not even once. he purses his lips.

“and the kicker?” sukuna said, leaning forward with a dry laugh. “she wasn’t even pregnant! just exam week stress. i almost died for nothing.”

he pointed toward where you were standing. “you’re evil.”

beep. truth.

a little while later, ryomen sukuna did get the hd pictures of you in a real big envelope. later, it was added to the pictures of you in his office. and all of that made him sigh, more fondly than ever before. life was good.

"i wonder what it would look like...." he mused to himself. "when we have kids too....."

"my love, dinner's ready!"

he smiles. "i'm coming!"

[alinathinkstoomuch]

CLOCKED IN

pairing: aaron hotchner x fake!fiancee!reader summary: hotch is trying his hardest to keep it together when your so-called friends crash the night out, good thing the bau are world class shit stirrers, based on this request. warnings: fluff, protective hotch but also protective bau!! brief reference to them meeting which can be read here word count: 1.3k

✧ masterlist | ✧ alina's 1k bar

Hotch was, against all odds, and probably his own expectations, actually having a good time. Shocking, really. But he knew exactly why, it was you. You sitting under the glittering mirrorball light, talking with your hands mid-explanation. 

It was your first official time meeting the team, and he wasn’t even a little bit surprised by how quickly you charmed every single person at the table. You had that effect on people. It was something he’d always admired about you, and okay, maybe envied a little too. He wasn’t exactly known for being warm or approachable. His voice didn’t magically pull smiles from strangers. Yours did.

And yet somehow, you—completely out of the blue—had walked into a bar similar to this one and asked him, a total stranger, to pretend to be your fiance for the night. Still one of the most absurd things he’s ever heard and he deals with absurd for a living.

Maybe that bit of envy came from a selfish place, though. Because he liked to think that the effervescent side of you was something you saved just for him, but it wasn’t because you were like that with everyone. All grins, all giggles, all theatrics because that’s who you were. And it made him furious inside to imagine anyone taking advantage of that. Like those awful friends who made you feel like you had to lie in the first place.

Still, in a roundabout, slightly messed-up way, he guessed he owed them one. Because their cruelty had delivered you straight to him.

He was mid-sip of his drink when he caught the way your smile wobbled. And when you did a double take towards the front door, his eyes were inclined to follow to see who or what he was going to have to glare at for sucking the light from your face that fast.

He didn’t even try to hide the exasperated sigh that left him.

“Oh boy,” you muttered, eyes still on the door.

“Do you know them?” JJ asked, leaning forward over a cluster of empty cocktail glasses. “Because they’re pointing.”

“And coming over,” Morgan added, eyebrows raised.

You straightened in your seat. “That’s…the quarter of the group responsible for me meeting Aaron.”

“No!” Penelope gasped, hand flying to her chest. “You mean those friends? The ones you had to lie to? The whole fake-fiancé saga?”

“In the flesh,” you confirmed, grabbing your drink and taking two very necessary gulps as Aaron braced himself for the evening to dissolve into performative lunacy. 

You shifted in your seat beside him, shoulders going stiff in that I’m fine, this is fine way that meant the opposite. And yeah, his jaw clenched. Because the idea of you having to perform just to feel safe, or liked, or respected? Made his blood run hot. Especially when you were surrounded by people who actually saw you—really saw you—and didn’t need a single performance to adore you.

“Oh my god! Okay! We all have very important parts to play,” Penelope whisper-yelled at the table.

“Just don’t make it weirder than it has to be,” Emily muttered, toying with her paper straw.

“You want another drink?” Rossi nudged Aaron who just glared at the older man. “Come on, lighten up. I didn’t get to see you in fiancé-action last time.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Hotch said dryly, reaching over and resting his hand over yours in a squeeze.

You turned to face him and the panicked look on your face made his stomach knot. “I’m sorry for this. I had no idea they’d be here, I haven’t even spoken to them in months.”

“You don’t owe me an apology, just like you don’t owe them a damn thing.” His tone softened. “But if you want an out, just say the word, I’ll make up an excuse and we’re gone.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but it was too late.

“Wow,” came a voice you knew all too well. “Look who it is.”

“Veronica.” You offered a perfectly polite, perfectly fake smile. “Dani,” you added, glancing at her tagalong.

“Mind if we sit with your fiancé and friends?” Veronica asked, already pulling a chair over from the table behind because she wasn’t actually asking or waiting for permission. She wedged herself in between you and Emily.

Dani copied her motions, plopping herself down between Penelope and Spencer. The poor genius looked like he was calculating the fastest way to disassociate, especially when Dani’s manicured hands rested a little too close to his drink. 

“So,” Veronica said, all teeth. “Are you going to introduce us?” She glanced around the table. “How do you all know the happy couple?”

“We work with Hotch,” Morgan answered smoothly, lifting his glass. “FBI.”

“Oh. Wow. That’s… intense.”

“Depends on the day,” Emily chimed in, “But yeah, keeps us busy.”

Veronica’s icy gaze slid to you, her mouth twitching. “Must be nice. All that… structure and stability. Probably pays off a little more than fashion, huh?”

You barely had time to get a word out before Penelope jumped in for you. “Oh, sweetie. One campaign of hers pays more than my entire annual salary. And I’m not exactly working for peanuts.”

You let out a sheepish laugh, just as Aaron’s thumb pressed gently against your hand, as if reminding you to breathe. 

“Anyway,” Dani piped up, suddenly remembering she had both a voice and a personality, “how’s wedding planning going? You must be deep in it by now, right?”

“Weren’t you just looking at venues?” Rossi added with a grin, like he’d been personally waiting for this moment. Hotch made a mental note to get him store-brand whiskey for his next birthday.

“We were,” Hotch replied as casually as he could manage. “She wants a beach wedding. I want one where her dress doesn’t blow into the ocean.”

Morgan snorted while JJ shook her head, trying and failing to hide a smile. 

“Tell the truth,” Emily grinned. “You just don’t want sand in your shoes.”

“I don't want sand in my everything,” Hotch said flatly, taking a sip of his drink at the involuntary conversation. 

“Fair,” Morgan laughed, tipping his glass towards him. “Sand gets everywhere. Man’s got a point.”

“Well, the guest list must be pretty large then,” Veronica went on, smiling just a little too sweetly. “Half the FBI, and of course us, your best friends. You’ll need something that can accommodate everyone.”

“We’re keeping it small,” Hotch almost snarled, his tone landing somewhere between polite restraint and you’re not fucking invited. Not that there was an actual wedding, but if he ever did marry you, those two would be the last names on the list.

“Oh! But you have to have bridesmaids, right?” Dani pressed on, gesturing between herself and Veronica. “I mean, you’re probably thinking of us, your best friends—”

“We haven’t gotten that far,” you cut her off.

“Besides,” Emily added with a shark-like smile, “it’s so hard to find dresses that don’t clash with fragile egos.”

Your eyebrows shot up before you could stop them. Morgan was grinning like a man thoroughly entertained. JJ stifled a laugh behind a cough. And Spencer? He just looked politely baffled, having subtly nudged his drink as far away from Dani’s claws as possible without making it look like he was giving it to Rossi. 

Hotch, meanwhile, added a new line to his growing mental list: whatever bottle Emily wanted for her birthday, she was getting the top shelf version. Hell, maybe two. 

Some of the tension in his chest eased a little and he hoped yours had too. Because if there was one thing his team excelled at, it was rallying around someone they’d decided was theirs. And judging by the grins, side-eyes, and Emily’s very intentional lack of filter, the BAU had officially clocked in.

Not for a case. 

For you. 

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[penelopehere]

Being A Demon HCs With Saja Boys

Jinu

The only demons he’s familiar with are the ones Gwi-Ma sent to help him on his mission

Otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered to remember who you were, only focusing on getting his memory erased

Would only go out of his way to interact with you if you acted out and proved to be a threat to his plans

He would get reports of a demon purposefully stopping others from harvesting souls and often going rouge, disappearing for periods at a time

At first he’d be absolutely pissed, sending others to hunt you down and get rid of you

However, the more you manage to evade them, the curiouser he got

There was no reason you should be standing in the way of Gwi-Ma, and the fact that you managed to act out despite his voice in your head astounded him

That’s when he decides to seek you out himself

He’d instantly go in to attack, trying to see if the stories he heard about you were true

Would be making a lot of snide comments as well, still annoyed at the fact that you were in his way

When you managed to evade him over and over again, disappearing the moment he turned his back towards you, he’d be a lot more open to just getting you to talk

Would act innocent at first, raising his hands when he saw you and clarifying that he was alone

He would doubt that you managed to escape Gwi-Ma’s voice, asking what you had to gain from acting out like this

Would be in heavy denial about a demon being able to go off and be free like you were, since he wasn’t able to

Eventually however, he begins to wonder if it was really possible and he could do it as well

Begins to manipulate you a lot, trying to get you to open up about your past and reveal your inner shame as well as how you managed to overcome it

Would also open up to you, only revealing parts of his history since he was mainly doing this so you’d let down your guard

Sometimes uses his tiger and bird to find you to convince you to meet up and trust him more

However, when he sees how genuine you are with not wanting to be like the other demons, his behaviour shifts

His becomes more caring, empathizing with you a lot more and purposefully warning you of upcoming attacks so you weren’t anywhere near them

If any other demon found you and tried to hurt you or bring you back to Gwi-Ma, he would quickly get rid of them

Wanted you to be his secret

Even the other members of the group weren’t fully aware of his relationship with you, only knowing that a rogue demon took up a lot of his attention

But the moment he realises how close he was getting to you, he’d immediately distance himself and not give any explanation as to why

You’d have to be the one to confront him, asking what went wrong and why he’s acting so weird

He’d then snap back at you, saying not all demons could live your life and it wasn’t easy to just change

From there he would ignore your advances, purposefully avoiding you if you ever tried to seek him out again

It’d only be during a confrontation, where you were in some sort of danger with demons or hunters, would he step in and bring you away from the fight

He’d be checking you over for injuries, practically ignoring your words as you continuously asked why he abandoned you

It’d take a lot of coaxing, but eventually he’d confess he cared too much about you and didn’t want to feel vulnerable

It’d be best if you didn’t try to pry any further, cause he wouldn’t want to explain himself

From there you’d have to take control of the relationship, with him being less sure of his actions now that he realized his feelings for you came from a genuine place

If you were patient though, things would eventually evolve into something more loving

Neither of you would officially acknowledge it, with the words ‘dating’ accidentally slipping out one day and neither of you correcting it

Would be a lot more teasing, being relentless with his playful jabs and insults

Often times enjoys spending quiet time with you, with both of you doing your own thing but still touching in some way

Loves to explain things to you, especially new things he’s learned about the human world that he knows you’re not familiar with

Sometimes, in more intimate moments, he’ll open up about his history with his family and how much regret he has from it

You’ll have to be the one to constantly pull him from Gwi-Ma’s voice

Doesn’t fully stray away from his plan to erase his memories, so he tries to avoid the topic with you since he doesn’t want to argue

Is infatuated with your markings, never even considering demon traits could be beautiful until he met you

Would enjoy training together to develop your demon abilities, since it was fun but also so he knows you’ll be safe when he’s gone

Will also make sure you have access to souls to feed on if you needed it, regardless of your opinion of harming humans

Would do everything in his power to make sure Gwi-Ma never got a hold on you again, even considering turning against the overlord if it came to it

Baby

Often goes off and does his own thing away from the group, so getting his attention even as a fellow demon would be difficult

However if you also had a rebellious side he’d be at least a little intrigued

Like if you wandered off during missions and overall just didn’t care that much about Jinu or Gwi-Ma’s plan

Just toeing the line between doing the bare minimum and being a liability, so you managed to fly under the radar for a while

If you also liked to mess with others, whether it’s demons or humans, he’d be even more interested in you

Would do whatever it took to get a reaction out of you

Followed you around constantly, and would act even worse if you ignored him

He’d repeat questions over and over again like a toddler, or poke you until you acknowledged him

Would definitely tease you a lot, making fun of how you basically worked for him and that he was the reason you could get souls

From this he would also try to pry into your personal life, curious about who you were and how you became a demon

However, anytime you even considered doing something rebellious, he would be right by your side and force himself to be apart of it

There’d be no point in trying to stop him, since you were both equally stubborn and would spend hours arguing with each other

The other members would notice his interest in you, especially with how often he wandered off to go find you

Eventually would force you to come with him, dragging you to rehearsals, meetings etc

Anytime you tried to leave, he’d basically drag you back and place you in your own little corner to chill in

The group didn’t care that much, slightly relieved Baby had someone to focus all his mischievous energy on

That was until the two of you teamed up and began pranking the other members

Then everyone began to be a lot more cautious if you were anywhere near each other

Neither of you talked about your emotions that much, mainly hanging out in silence or planning your next stunt

There was no doubt you guys had a connection though, not that either of you would admit to it

The only way something would change in your relationship is if you had to leave the human world, whether that be because you got in too much trouble or if the mission no longer needed you

Baby would try everything in his power to make sure you could stay with him

Would be lowkey about it, going to other members to casually ask if they could do anything or just full on threatening lower ranked demons in secret

Would go as far as getting rid of other demons so you could replace them and stay

Even considered going back to the demon world with you, but the other members wouldn’t allow it

Eventually you’d confront him on this, not wanting to make a big deal out of having to leave since you were unsure about his feelings towards you

This would force him to accidentally confess, causing the two of you to go silent for a couple moments

He’d ask if you felt the same way, and when you admitted to it, neither of you would know how to act at first

To break the tension Baby would probably begin teasing you about your ‘crush’ on him until you did it back

From then on the two of you would be inseparable, the members having no choice but to make sure you stayed in the human world

If they didn’t then Baby would leave and the mission would be put at risk

He stays by your side no matter what, basically hovering around you since he finds comfort in your presence

In more private settings, he loves to have you resting against one another

Would develop the most insane tricks to scare humans, even incorporating these acts into performances or interviews sometimes

Also uses it to get souls, getting satisfaction out of the torment they experience

The two of you also get scolded the most out of the group

Loves to make posts with you, even showing off your markings sometimes saying it was just ‘makeup’

Even does this with your fangs and eyes on occasion, loving your demon form and enjoying how risky it was just revealing it on the internet

If you ever felt insecure about being a demon, or if Gwi-Ma’s voice became too overwhelming, he’d try to reassure you with his actions

Like by calling you dumb for even thinking such a thing, while pulling you closer and draping his arm around you as he rested his chin on your head

Romance

He practically obsesses over getting attention from fans in the human world, mainly using demons to further push his image as an idol

So it’d be hard for him to develop a genuine connection with you if you were just assisting the, in the mission

However, if you were someone back in the demon world that knew him before he became a Saja Boy, he would remember you

The two of you only interacted a couple times, too busy with surviving and finding ways to get souls

However, the kindness and respect you showed him in those rare moments still left an impression

Automatically places you in high regard because of it

When he got put on Jinu’s mission, he managed to get you assigned with them

It gave him an excuse to spend more time together and he was eager to get to know you more

Would use his charming personality as a front since it was so successful in getting human fans

Used you as a ‘stand in’ for fans and interviewers, telling you pick up lines and constantly touching you in some way in an attempt to catch your interest

Even tried to help you develop your own human form, making sure you guys has matching styles

Everything he did felt disingenuous at first, feeling like he was just trying to manipulate you into liking him

While in reality, Romance would overthink constantly about how you perceived him and what kind of person you wanted him to be

Everyone in the group was well aware of his little crush on you, constantly teasing him about it since he acted so fake with you

This would make him consider being more vulnerable with, even if the very thought of doing so frightened him

So at some point, when the two of you were alone, he would open up to the stress he faces because of this mission and Gwi-Ma’s voice

He used it as a way to explain why he was hesitant to be sincere when you first met, feeling insecure about his true personality

It would take a while for you to fully let your guard down, still unsure if anything he was telling you was true or if he had some ulterior motive

But eventually you’d see he was being genuine, allowing you to develop a proper relationship with him

You’d also open up about hearing Gwi-Ma’s voice in your head, the two of you supporting each other and talking it out whenever things got really bad

He’d definitely be the one to confess, planning everything out to the smallest detail and getting the other members to help him make sure it was perfect

He’d do all the stereotypical things, like giving you roses, lighting candles, taking a walk with you in the moonlight

However at the end of the night, all his plans go out the window

After looking into your eyes, he knew he would do anything to make sure you were happy

He told you how he felt about you, that you were different from anyone else that he met and how you made him feel things he didn’t think were possible

Around you he felt confident in who he was and loved, despite being a demon

After hearing your response, saying you felt the same way, he’d be so overcome with emotion that he’d just hold onto you; not wanting to let go

Now that you were dating, he was lot less extravagant with the PDA since he feels more secure with you

Still likes to be touching at all times though so he knows you’re there

Also keeps on flirting with fans, taking his role in the group very seriously and wanting the Saja Boys to succeed

However reassures you though that he belongs with you, through both his actions and words

Especially since he can’t go out with you while being overly affectionate, due to his role as the ‘flirt’ of the group

Is constantly checking on your wellbeing, making sure you were handling being in the human world well and had enough souls to feast on

Becomes a lot more secure with his demon form since he loves the markings and fangs you have

However he does enjoy pretending to human with you, loving how you let him style your appearance

On special occasions he finds ways to go dates with you in public, charming his way out of it when confronted during interviews and fan meets

Abby

To get his attention you’d have to be on the team somehow and working closely with him

So your role would most likely be one of the demons that follows the group at all times, acting as a form of protection in case any hunters come by or if human fans want to see them when they’re busy

He would mainly interact with you by making a few side comments, saying he could protect everyone himself because of how strong he was

It’d only be after seeing you in battle would he start to take you seriously

Would constantly ask you to spar with him, taunting you if you kept saying no

Eventually he’d just try to sneak attack you, getting frustrated when you’d just disappear or ignore him

If you fought back he’d be ecstatic, giving it his all and expecting you to do the same

Losing would make him distraught, immediately demanding a rematch

However if he won, don’t expect him to ever let you forget it

Would probably be so annoying that you instigated the next sparring match

From then on he’d subconsciously try to get your validation by trying to be better than you at things

No matter how small the task, he’d insist he could beat you at it

Basically everything became a competition, and he would spend most of his free time just being around you because of it

Everyone in the group probably realised that he liked you before he did and they’d tease him relentlessly about it

Out of principle he’d deny it, sounding like a little kid throwing a tantrum

However if you ended up finding out about this, most likely by overhearing one of the members saying it, he’d get a lot more flustered

Began stuttering and backtracking on all his words, not truly knowing how he felt

You’d have to take control of the conversation, admitting your feeling first so he could calm down

Honestly short circuits, not talking for a few moments as he focuses on your words and forgets everything he was thinking

Tries to be causal when he says he likes you too, eventually saying he expected it because of how strong he was

Still tries to constantly impress you, however now it’s more so about skills and talents he has

This mainly includes his cooking, always wanting you to try whatever he makes

Will take your opinion very seriously, especially since you weren’t familiar with human food and he wants your experience with it to be perfect

Is okay with redoing things over and over again until they taste just right

Would fall even deeper in love if you asked him to teach you how to cook, brushing it off by bragging about how he’s the best teacher you’ll ever have

Also has you help with a few of his dance moves, loving how you can keep up with him cause your both demons

Is constantly hugging you and putting his arm over your shoulder, almost like he’s trying to draw you in closer whenever you’re nearby

Also continues to spar with you a lot, playfully jabbing you and escalating it to the point where one of you is pinned to the group

But he is more open to both of you improving your fighting technique, taking the time to show each other effective attacks and defences

He still has a short temper, often letting his demon attributes coming out when he gets mad, however he appreciates that you can match his energy and stand up for yourself

Also loves seeing your demon attributes getting more enhanced when you get pissed, loving how unapologetic you are with being inhumane

He thinks it makes you seem more authentic

The only reason he would try to convince you to have a human form is so he could go out in public with you and show yourself off as a power couple

Also tries to do the same thing around demons, bragging about how the two of you could probably defeat the hunters by yourself

But if you ever did doubt yourself, whether that be because of your own thoughts of Gwi-Ma’s voice, he’d do his best to reassure you

Would give you praise, stating every compliment as if it was a fact before finding something fun or relaxing to do to take your mind off things

Mystery

He usually stays quiet in large groups, so you wouldn’t really catch his interest by being a demon that hangs around the members

He also didn't make that many connections in the demon world, so he wouldn’t know you from there either

Most likely you’re a soul collector, going between both realms and eventually catching his eye

This is because he found it interesting how you managed to blend into the shadows and disappear, similarly to how how did

He’d follow you every now and then, keeping an eye on how you lure humans away and find them in moments of weakness

You wouldn’t even notice him at first because of how quiet he was

At most you’d notice something in the corner of your eye, or feel like someone was watching you

However, when you looked around, no one would be there

The only way you’d properly meet is if he decided to approached you out of sheer interest and curiosity, appearing at your side and accidentally scaring you

You recognised him of course, with the Saja Boys being the whole reason as to why demons like yourself could collect souls

He wouldn’t say much, merely staring at you and then immediately disappearing in a cloud of smoke

These interactions would get slightly longer and longer overtime, with him eventually just walking behind you and hovering while you did your job

You never really asked him to leave you alone, since he rarely interfered with what you were doing

The only times he’d step in is if you were about to get caught

If it was by a human, he would come from behind and take the soul from their body, before retreating into the shadows once again

However if it was a hunter, he would pull you into a hiding spot, even going as far as transporting away with you if he thought things were too risky

On some more rare occasions though, you’d also see him tormenting a few of his own humans while you were out hunting

Sometimes to steal their soul, but often just scaring them to the point of tears

The first time you heard him spoke was simultaneously fighting and calming, not expecting him to actually say anything but strangely loving the way his voice sounded

He still didn’t speak much though, only saying a few words every now and then

Because of this, whenever you guys were around each other, it’d be a comfortable silence or you’d be talking to yourself

You’d most likely open up to him on accident because of this, not even fully realising that your guard was down until much later

Despite his eccentric nature, you’d still find it calming to just be around him

From this an odd friendship would form, the two of you finding solace in the other’s presence despite not truly knowing much about each other

Eventually you’d hang out with him in front of the other members, just sitting in silence and doing your own thing

However the group didn’t question it

They had a small suspicion he was doing something like this, but they would have also believed he just found a stray cat he really liked

You would slowly begin staying at their house more and more, everyone else just leaving the two of you alone since you seemed to be getting along

The only way your relationship would move forward is if another member questioned if you guys were dating

Neither of you knew how to answer that, just staring at each other

You decided to have a conversation about it when you guys were alone, finally saying that you both liked one another

At first you thought nothing in your relationship would change, immediately turning around to walk back towards the house

However, when Mystery reached out and gave you a back hug, holding you from behind for a few moments, you were glad that some things were going to change for the better

He would become much more affectionate in his own way

Always having his arm draped over you somehow or has your pinkies locked together

Loves helping you collect souls, especially when you play with the humans for a bit first before devouring them

Personally prefers his demon form over his human one, so is most likely in it when he’s around you cause it makes him more comfortable

However he would also enjoy helping you develop a human form, implementing it when you guys go hunting

If you ever became too overwhelmed with being a demon, specifically because of Gwi-Ma’s voice, he would quietly take you into his arms and whisper words of reassurance if you needed it; promising he would keep you safe

[endangeredspeciesidentifier]

species found!

when i look up a knitting term, the last thing I want is an ai overview. I want a 60+ year old woman with no understanding of lighting or helpful camera angles who still manages to give the most concise and clear explanation of how to execute purl 2tog through the backloop. ai summary fuck off, where is phyllis?

Vulturine Leafhopper (Nehela vulturina)

listed as Endangered (Decreasing)

when i look up a knitting term, the last thing I want is an ai overview. I want a 60+ year old woman with no understanding of lighting or helpful camera angles who still manages to give the most concise and clear explanation of how to execute purl 2tog through the backloop. ai summary fuck off, where is phyllis?

[sunshinesfreckless]

Coward

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Pairing: Idol!Felix x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Felix chooses his career over his girlfriend.

Warnings: No Happy Ending 🫩

A/N: Bet you guys didn’t expect an angst fanfic from me after you‘ve been asking for smut in my requests for the past few weeks—HAH, sorry!

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

“You should break up with her.”

The words hung heavy in the air, more deafening than a scream.

Felix sat frozen in the meeting room, hands clenched into fists beneath the table, his heart pounding so loud he could barely hear anything else. He tried to meet Chan’s eyes, searching for support, for some kind of silent protest — but Chan wasn’t looking at him. His gaze was fixed on the floor, jaw tight, guilt written across every tense line of his face.

Hyunjin’s reaction was different — immediate, visible. His brows furrowed, eyes flickering from the manager to Felix like he’d just misheard. “What?” he breathed, his voice too soft to be defiant but too sharp to ignore. “You can’t be serious.”

The manager stayed calm. Too calm.

“She’s not a scandal yet,” he said, as if that made this any better. “But she will be. People are speculating. You’re slipping. The engagement on your posts is dropping, and the comments are full of hate toward her. This isn’t about your feelings, Felix. It’s about your image.”

Felix felt something in him splinter.

Like a crack that had been forming quietly, invisibly, now split wide open.

Y/N’s laugh echoed in his memory, soft and melodic. The way she’d always waited up for him, no matter how late he got home. The sleepy kisses on the couch, the way she wore his hoodies and always tucked her cold toes beneath his legs in bed. The way she whispered I’m proud of you on nights when he came home completely broken from exhaustion.

He thought about her smile — how safe it made him feel. How she never asked for much, just him. Just time. Just honesty.

But now they wanted him to give her up. Like she was just some inconvenience.

A marketing risk.

He didn’t speak. He couldn’t.

Because if he did, he might scream.

He might cry.

He might beg.

But idols don’t beg. Idols obey.

And Felix had worked too hard to throw it all away. That’s what they were counting on.

────୨ৎ────

The worst part?

He didn’t even say goodbye.

He couldn’t.

He waited until he was sure she wouldn’t be home — he knew her schedule, knew when she had that late meeting. And then he moved through the apartment like a ghost. Quiet. Methodical. Dying with every item he packed.

His computer setup.

The drawer full of hoodies she always stole.

His gaming gear — the controller she used to tease him for gripping too tightly during horror games.

The pictures on the fridge. Their Polaroids from Japan. The one from the night market where he had his arm wrapped tight around her waist and she was laughing like the happiest girl in the world.

Gone.

All of it.

Except for one thing.

He left behind a single hoodie.

The grey one she always wore when she missed him. Oversized. Faded. Smelled like him no matter how often she washed it. She used to say it made her feel safe.

He folded it carefully and placed it on their — her — bed.

No note.

No text.

No explanation.

He knew she’d spend days wondering if he was okay. If something happened.

He knew she’d call — again and again — until eventually she’d realize he wasn’t going to answer.

He knew she’d try to make sense of it.

Maybe she’d think she did something wrong.

And that was the part that gutted him most.

She’d never know the truth — that he still loved her so deeply it hurt to breathe.

That the last thing he wanted was to let her go.

That he cried the moment the door shut behind him and he was alone in the hallway, his suitcase by his side, her name caught in his throat like shattered glass.

────୨ৎ────

And when Y/N came home that night, everything was still. Too still.

The lights were off.

The air was cold.

The silence… was wrong.

She called his name. Once. Twice.

No answer.

And then she stepped into the bedroom and saw the hoodie — perfectly folded. Alone.

It hit her like a punch.

Her breath left her body.

And in that moment, she knew.

He was gone.

But she didn’t know why.

And maybe she never would.

She tried calling the boys. One after the other.

No one picked up.

Her chest tightened with every unanswered ring. Confusion turned to hurt — they had become her closest friends during the time she was with Felix. Late-night ramen runs with Chan, movie marathons with Jeongin, Han sending her playlists when she was sick. They had felt like family.

But now… nothing.

Not even Seungmin answered. And he always did.

What she didn’t know was that, on the other side of the city, all eight of them sat in silence in the practice room. The only sound came from the vibrating of their phones — one after the other, lighting up with her name. No one dared to move. No one dared to answer.

The guilt clung to the air like humidity, thick and suffocating.

Felix’s phone stayed dark.

She probably knew.

You’re a coward, his inner voice sneered.

And he didn’t fight it — because it was true.

────୨ৎ────

Hyunjin hadn’t meant to see her. He wasn’t trying to run into her.

It just… happened.

He saw her in the art supply store — his favorite store. The one he used to rave about. The one where he once helped her pick out brushes for a painting she’d made Felix for their anniversary.

She didn’t notice him.

Didn’t even glance up.

She moved through the aisles like a ghost — quiet, hollow, her steps slow, shoulders hunched under the invisible weight of something he couldn’t unsee.

Her eyes were tired. Worn out.

Full of sadness. But the kind you don’t cry out anymore. The kind that just settles. Heavy. Permanent.

He ducked behind a shelf, heart pounding, torn between guilt and shame. He watched her grab supplies with trembling fingers — watercolor paper, sketching pencils, a palette.

He knew her job was eating her alive.

He remembered the way Felix used to hold her after long shifts — cradling her, whispering into her hair, rubbing circles on her back until her hands stopped shaking.

Now she was alone.

Hyunjin swallowed hard.

He could’ve said something. Could’ve offered a smile, a hand, anything.

But he didn’t.

He stayed hidden.

Coward, he thought.

Just like Felix.

────୨ৎ────

Three years later, when Felix stepped into the quiet little café on a rainy Thursday afternoon, he was just looking for coffee. Maybe a moment to breathe — maybe even some peace.

What he didn’t expect…

…was a small body colliding into his legs with surprising force.

“Oof!” the child let out, falling back onto the floor.

Felix blinked in surprise, instinctively crouching down. The child didn’t cry — she just looked up at him with wide, curious eyes.

And the second Felix saw them —

He wanted to.

Her eyes.

He would’ve known them anywhere.

… just like hers.

He slowly took off his sunglasses and beanie, still crouched, still staring at the little girl. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice catching. “Are you okay?”

Before she could answer, a woman’s voice called out.

“Oh my god, sweetheart, please don’t run off like that — you know how scary your dad can get—”

The woman rushed over and took the girl’s hand.

Felix’s heart was already in his throat when he looked up.

He had expected it.

When he saw the eyes — when he heard the voice.

But still…

His entire world stopped.

Y/N stood in front of him.

She looked… different.

Not like his Y/N anymore.

Older. Exhausted. Her eyes didn’t shine like they used to.

Her mouth parted in shock. Her grip tightened around the child’s hand.

Felix opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Then a man approached from behind her.

Older. Taller. Wearing a wedding band that matched the one on Y/N’s hand.

“Can’t you even get this stupid kid under control?” the man snapped. “For god’s sake, why can’t you do anything right, woman?”

Felix’s jaw tensed. He stood slowly, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said before he could stop himself. “It was my fault — she ran into me.”

The man glanced at Felix, eyes narrowing with disdain.

“Well, look at you. One of those K-pop fellas, huh?”

He gave Felix a long, disgusted look — then yanked the child’s hand out of Y/N’s grip.

“Let’s go.”

Y/N didn’t say anything.

She just looked at Felix one last time — eyes full of something unreadable — before she turned and hurried after them.

Felix stood frozen.

Watching the door swing shut behind her.

Feeling the emptiness crash back into his chest like it never left.

And this time, there was no one to blame but himself.

Coward.

[yuriartillery]

me when im winning: my actions are just because i am strong and need no other moral explanation. if you find me repulsive then the solution is simple, you must make me stop by your own will

me when im losing: well lets hold on now really when you think about it your position of relative power has stunted your growth as a person experiencing the world and you could have a much more nuanced grasp of things if you were faced with an absolute adversity

[thatblueduck]

Whoever wrote in their author’s note “sorry I took so long I was getting a restraining order but now I’m back!” like it was the most normal thing in the world with no further explanation and none of the comments questioning it, I love you

starting a collection of my favourite AO3 author’s notes

honourable mentions

[bylertruth3r]

"when blue meets yellow in the west" and why it's about Byler

Will's room is yellow, Mike's room is blue, even Will's room in Hawkins was yellow

their s3 icons are blue and yellow, the season where the theory was born

when blue (Mike) meets yellow (Will) in the west (California), they wear blue and yellow clothes a lot

their s3 socks are blue and yellow

their s2 pillow cases are blue and yellow

They remodeled rink o mania to add the blue and yellow lights (and made rink o mania look like the gay bar from Dawson's Creek)

and this

Finn knows it's about Byler

blue and yellow glasses

The costume designer said that Byler wears blue and yellow because they work well together and complement each other, like the colors, ,more about it here

Finn knows the whole thing

Noah said that something will go right for Will and the Duffers let him add something to the script, Finn also got to add something for a scene

Plus Mike's explanation about why he wasn't able to say ily makes no sense because El said he loved him in s3 and Mike wasn't even able to say it to Will that he "loved" El, he kept saying "I didn't know what to say" and "if I had said that thing", and Mike said "and I knew it right then and there that I loved you" but Finn said "romance wasn't on Mike's mind when he met El" which means he was lying

They gave mlvn the stancy storyline (argument and break up in the same episode) in the same season where: Will got confirmed gay and in love with Mike, Byler became a team like Jopper a season before they got together, they got the interruption trope (romantic trope) with the same soundtrack they used for a s2 Lumax song (on the bus), the season where Byler got the "we're just friends" trope like Jancy and Jopper before they got together

[undyingdecay]

could I get yandere perv Bob?

(ive gotten a req for this before, i dont see bob as a yandere so instead hes a stalker, also could be read as pre-thunderbolts)

things going missing. your under wear never quite where you left it, one sock out of a pair you swore was there when you went to bed. your toothbrush sometims a little damp when you know you haven’t used it yet. your bedroom window unlocked when you always check it before you leave.

but you chalk it up to your own exhaustion. distractions. you work too much. forget things. you’re probably losing it

except then there’s bob.

that weird, skittish loser you see around town. works the night shift at the gas station on 12th. always looks like he hasn’t slept in days. shifty eyes, hands stuffed deep in his pockets like he’s constantly on the edge of either crying or throwing a punch.

he always stares.

at first, you think it’s harmless. just some socially awkward burnout who doesn’t know how to mind his own business. it’s a small town — there’s always one.but then you start seeing him everywhere.

you grab coffee? he’s at the end of the block. you run to the store? there’s a beat-up car idling across the lot with a figure you don’t need to squint at to recognize.

and it gets worse.

notes under your windshield wiper with shaky handwriting that reads “you’re so pretty it hurts.”

a voicemail you don’t remember getting — heavy breathing, the faint sound of your own name muttered like a prayer.

and then the dreams start.

or — what you thought were dreams.

the sensation of hands on your thighs while you’re half-asleep. the feeling of something hot and wet against your neck. waking up sticky between your legs with no explanation except the sinking, sickening realization that your window’s unlocked again.

because bob can’t help himself.

he swears he’ll stop every time. every single time he gets his filthy hands on a pair of your panties, sniffs them like a fucking animal, or jerks off into the ones you left in the hamper — he promises himself it’ll be the last time.

but it never is. because he needs you.

needs the scent of you to sleep. needs to know what you look like when you cry. needs to imagine what you taste like when you’re sobbing under him, begging him to stop while he’s too far gone to listen.

and the worst part is you feel it.

that gnawing, clinging presence that hangs around your apartment even when you’re alone. the way your skin prickles when you pass by the closet, convinced someone’s hiding inside.

you tell yourself you’re being paranoid. but you know bobs there.

probably palming himself through his jeans, biting down on his fist to keep quiet as he watches you undress. his gaze fixed on the spot between your thighs. thinking about how easy it’d be to just crawl out and pin you down.

and he will. it’s only a matter of time.

because bob’s not the type to stay patient forever. and once he finally snaps, it’ll be a mess. incoherent apologies. desperate, slurred confessions about how he’s always loved you. the sticky sound of his hand working himself while he makes you listen.

[ilianasbruce]

“In the heat of the night.”

word count: 5,626

summary: some wild idea of your Bruce for the night ♡

warnings: full +18 content with a plot. minors do not interact, please

notes: hi, hi!!! ♡ may i present you this wild piece?? there are no limitations for young, husband Bruce and here we go again!! ♡ this can be a sequel to my this piece, but it still can be a standalone, too, i guess. happy reading, my loves!! thank you so much for your support!! kiss, kiss!!! ♡ ♡ ♡

Iceberg Lounge.

A place that you wouldn't cross alone nor did you ever want to be there for hours. According to the things you’ve heard, it was usually filled with Gotham’s double-sided face. Sometimes the higher ranks were wandering around with their glamorous suit and ties, sometimes it was a random thug in the name of working for the Penguin. Either way, it was still for the highest. The same word that involved both you and your husband.

It was not your idea to come here, on a Friday night in scorching July with your beloved Bruce — it was his idea since the beginning. He decided it was good to renew your appreances since the last three weeks, the opera house night. It was a good cover for Batman’s investigation on Oswald Cobblepot, in other representations he was referred to as the ‘Penguin’. There were some vulgar burglaries from Gotham’s highest and illegal trafficking on the Gotham port, and Bruce was cynical about the arrows leading to this peculiar man. Thus, Bruce was rigid about his date night with you and now you were here, your dazzling eyes wandering through the ‘icy’ interior as you strode to your reserved table with Bruce’s arm around your waist.

“What? Are you still angry with me?”

His lips brushed your ear. “You know, I can eat your anger out if you can be a good girl for me tonight.” he continued as he kissed the sweet spot below your ear. God, it drove you mad how he was sometimes nonchalant about his words.

You slightly pushed him with your hand on his chest, earning a stupid grin on his handsome face. He had no shame about the people of Gotham seeing how he was smitten with you, how he liked to show off his obsession, such as casually kissing your bare shoulders or neck as soon as he had a chance. You were still irritated with him since the last few days after his ‘friend’ incident — fucking you with great pleasure for his jealousy and you being confused about his non-existent explanation of the situation and the next morning nuzzling you like a puppy. As if he weren't the one who was responsible for the love bites with stains on your chest and shoulders for the next few days, and as if he weren't the one who was responsible for the soreness between your thighs.

It had been a few days since you’d been giving him a cold shoulder, refusing to interact with him out of necessity. And he was aware of that — aware of your rejecting his morning kisses or your nightly staying-ups for him through the night. He knew his fault with you, but he was slightly busy with Penguin rather than engaging with you. When he told you that you two are going for a date night, Alfred and you gave him cynical glances. It was too easy, wasn't it? But he also added that he needed to ‘look through’ Oswald Cobblepot, and the real picture was revealed.

“Oh, Sir, I thought you finally had a rational thought.”

Alfred was aware of the silent tension between you and Bruce, mainly your irritation, and he was on your side most of the time. And whatever was bothering you, was bothering him, too. Since he had seen Bruce’s devotion to you — Bruce’s eagerness in wedlock with you — and he was happy finally in his life after the darkness of years. But he was also aware of the two young lovers’ struggles during their early marriage years. He was afraid as a father to Bruce and you, that some trivial miscommunication or anything would happen and Bruce would lose his North Star, you, forevermore. It was well known how Bruce couldn't handle his beloved parents’ death, and it was a strangling thought for Alfred that something like that could happen again to Bruce, just him to be goner until the end line.

Bruce was angry and fueled, but he was also arrogant in his vision. Alfred could handle his son, but could you handle him even though he was the love of your life? Your dearest, young and confident Bruce? Alfred was scared, he had no chance at that time of tragedy, he had no power to halt the nightmare but he did have the capability now. And he was no fool for letting the similar darkness cover his son’s life again.

However, Bruce’s intention was really to take you out on a date with his detective vision. He loved you so much, and he was trying to fix his wrongdoing with this rational thought. He couldn't bear to see your lovely eyes avoiding him or your endless love halting to flourish for him.

You, at first, did not want to go out with him, truthfully. You just said ‘I am tired’ that day, well in fact, you were just making a chocolate cake with Alfred from his generational, Pennyworth recipes. It hurt Bruce to see your unwillingness; after seeing your lowered gaze from him to the chocolates in your hand. But he ushered you with his generous bouquets of your favorite flowers after a few hours, leaving you stunned.

“Oh, I think he is very serious about his offer, Madam.”

So, here you were, walking right next to him in your lovely silhouette as you two were accompanied to your table.

“Mr. Wayne and Mrs. Wayne, what a pleasure to see you.”

You and Bruce halted by the voice, turned to see no one but the one and only Oswald Cobblepot himself. Neither Bruce or you had the opportunity to speak to him before, nor Mr. Cobblepot. As he saw both of you, he took the chance to introduce himself to the Son of Gotham and his wife.

Oswald Cobblepot was a peculiar man. He was feared but also respected in Gotham, came from the real Gotham families like Bruce. He was a nobleman outside but inside? Your Bruce was thinking about him lately in his cave.

Mr. Cobblepot gave a courteous bow for both of you, and then asked for your hand. You let him politely and the next, your hand was brushed by his lips.

“We can say the same, Mr. Cobblepot. Thank you for your invitation.”

You withdrew your hand and felt Bruce’s hand giving a soft squeeze on your hip. “My wife was enthusiastic about a refreshment from the heat of Gotham. I thought one of your freezing nights could be a great gift for her.”

You smiled politely when Mr. Cobblepot’s gaze found yours behind his monocle. He gave you a satisfied smile, his eyes crinkling cheerfully. “We are delighted to hear about Mrs. Wayne’s preferences. I assure you that she will have a wonderful night here. I specifically gave the orders for your table, Mr. Wayne.”

He gestured with his hand for you to continue, “Please, do proceed and enjoy the night. I wish it would be marvelous for you.”

In the next few minutes, you were sitting opposite each other, your eyes looking down at the scene of the Lounge. It was crowded, filled with the specials of Gotham and a few notorious ones. Your eyes wandered through the people and the scenery of “icy” walls, the stage where there was a preparation for the singer of the night, and the ceiling from what you could see the gleaming night lights of Gotham and the slightly visible stars in the sky.

“Do you like it?”

Your attention was interrupted by Bruce as he took your hand into his and kissed your knuckles. He brushed his lips on your soft skin lovingly as his keen, bedroom eyes under his thick eyebrows looked at you. He kept his lips on your skin, expecting an answer from you. He knew how to get under your skin, bending your attention to him with his calm gaze.

“I didn’t know I was the one who was enthusiastic about a ‘frosty’ night out?”

You still pursued your stubbornness about your cold shoulder. He sighed and kept your hand in his on the table. “You were searching for every cold corner in the Manor.”

“How — Were you following me?”

You were, frankly, looking for it during the afternoon naps. Wayne Manor was spectacular to you in every sense and you loved to spend your favorite time in every corner of it. But when Gotham was burning, you chose to look for a comfortable corner in your home. And to your wonder, Bruce, as he was supposed to be either in the cave or in his fourteen hours of sleep after his patrols, was obviously aware of your little research. He gave you an unimpressed gaze, his thumb caressing your rings.

“God forbid if I look for you in our house.”

You did not answer his sarcasm, tearing your stare from him to the singer whose voice was now filling the chilly air of the Lounge. Bruce followed your eyes after a few seconds of looking at your features, thinking about how he could win you over.

Twenty minutes later, your drinks were served and you were sipping your mimosa, since you refused to drink alcohol as your husband, eyes on the band. Bruce, slightly opposite of you, swirling his wine spritzer as his eyes were locked on Mr. Cobblepot who was wandering with his ‘suit and tie’ right hand, seemingly discussing something. His blue eyes didn't leave any momentum of ‘Penguin’, watching him until he disappeared from his sharp eyes. It was a great opportunity to use his time, since you were also giving him no attention.

He placed the glass on the table and took your hand for a kiss. “I need to use the bathroom, my love. Will you be alright if I’m gone for a few minutes?”

Your fluttering gaze found his; you knew what he was referring to. You just nodded your head with a small ‘yes’. He gave you a small smile and squeezed your hand. Then, he left your table.

His ‘few minutes’ stretched out for a long, heavy time. You did not realize at first, but no lie, as much as you were irritated by him, even for a mere time — you were still in love with him heavily. Your lovely eyes wandered through the people, the poker tables, or the bar under your gaze. There was no sign of him. You waited for a few more minutes before you left the table.

You walked through the dim corridor of tables, filled with the notorious people of Gotham and the outsiders, drinking your vision with their eyes. You tried to keep your gaze on the way ahead since you did not want to engage with anyone. There were familiar faces at the tables, smiling and nodding at you as you repeated with the same ladylike effort.

Where was your husband? As you descended the stairs, you were thoughtfully blending through the crowd, thinking about where to look for him. You knew he could take care of himself, but hell, where was he? Every kind of high people of Gotham were there, and your lovely but uneasy eyes were looking for your husband. They indeed were the vultures, looking at the little bird of love with a great appetite.

“Would a pretty girl like you want a drink?”

Your eyes found the young bartender as you bypassed the bar. You shook your head with a small, uncomfortable smile as you dived through the crowd towards the washrooms — or you hoped. You did find the washrooms. But also a few, suited men looking for.. something? They passed over you in skepticism, as if trying to find someone that they were now hastily speaking to each other about. You were suspicious of something, turned to go way back to your table but you were interrupted there.

“Mrs. Wayne, are you lost?”

You turned and found Mr. Cobblepot who was staring at you with curiosity blended with irritation. He looked more terrifying when he was in that state.

“I,” you started as he approached you with his cane in his languid movements due to his physique. “I was-”

“There you are, baby. Want me to take you to the dance floor?”

Bruce’s sudden appearance from behind shook you and Mr. Cobblepot. His arm snaked your waist, pulling you slightly to himself as you turned your face to the side to meet his gaze. He looked so effortless, giving you one of his favorite smiles you adored, as your eyes gazed up at him speechless.

“I,” you murmured barely with your lovely eyes locked in his blue eyes, “Yes, please.”. Mr. Cobblepot was looking at you two in confusion but he did not bother to intercede since he was looking for the snitch who was eavesdropping.

“Mr. Cobblepot, you have a good place here. It is quite thrilling for us.”

“Glad to hear that, Mr. Wayne. Pardon me.”

With that, he left you two alone. You thought you were supposed to go to the dance floor but in the blink of an eye, Bruce guided you to the ladies’ restroom. He made sure that there was no one inside before pulling you in and locking the door after you.

“Where were you?” you asked him quietly before he pressed you to the door. He kissed your lips for a peck, murmuring the words on them.

“Me?”

“Yes.” you breathed out when his cold palms found your skin under your satin, thigh-length dress. He pecked your lips again with “Why? Did you miss me?”.

“They,” he pressed another kiss on your lips, “were looking for you?”. You let him kiss you as much as he wanted since he was only thinking about it as you realized. He slowly had his lips on you, sweetly taking every second. After a few seconds of his pleasure, you softly pushed him for both air and an answer.

“Were they looking for you?” you murmured to his lips as he gave you a disturbed gaze in the eyes. “Were they?” he muttered, eluding your inquiries before kissing you again. This time, he was a bit rougher with you. You let a softest moan to his mouth as his hand went higher than before.

You did not want him to have his way with you smoothly as always. You were supposed to be giving him a silent treatment; you were trying but it was challenging when he was orbiting around you like this. You did not let him touch you since that night, always slept away from him on the bed. But he was almost daring you in this situation. When he broke the kiss for a breath for you two, you whispered to him as he had pressed his forehead to yours.

“Bruce,” you breathed out, “Someone’s gonna come on us.”

“Don’t worry,” he muttered to your lips, ready for another kiss. “I’ll make no one will.”

Your attempts were futile. He kissed you as he longed for, over and over again with soft bites of your bottom lip. He let his tongue devour you, letting you melt in his mouth while his fingers fiddled with the waistband of your liliac, lacy panties under your dress.

His lips, after leaving you breathless, found your jaw, then your neck. He kissed every inch of your soft skin, breathing in your floral scent. Your fingers went to his shoulders, holding onto him. When he bit your neck, you hissed his name since it’d leave a stain without any concealing and that was the last thing you wanted this night. He just kissed the same spot and licked your skin next.

You were flushed, breathing in the mild air of the washroom, as he kissed your bare shoulders after pulling the straps off them. You thought he’d just fuck you for one round, then you’d leave this madness but no. A thought was spiraling in Bruce’s head for quite time during the day, to go on his knees for you.

He bit your throat and pulled back to take off his jacket. He just threw it on the countertop before coming back to your lips. He kissed you more before going down on his knees, looking up at you from his thick lashes. You were watching him with a warm face, uneasy about the spot you two were in. You just shook your head as a ‘no’, but that made him smile at your loveliness. His calloused hands gently went under your dress again as if he did not want to scare you off.

“Come on, baby, just let me take a bite of my dessert, yeah?” he muttered with a merry glint in his blue eyes, making you already wet from how he looked. God, he was almost unreal — his slicked back, dark hair was now slightly messy from whatever he did before you and his blue eyes were hazy with longing as he looked at you. You felt his fingers go upwards, just through the waistband of your flower-detailed underwear. He elatedly caressed his thumb on the elaborated material, just getting slightly hard in his pants. You were torn between his plea and the possible scandal but he deftly started to pull down your delicate piece.

“B-Bruce, we’ll-”

“Shh, baby, we won’t.” he muttered as he kissed your thigh, peeking up at you from the hem of your dress. “I’ll make sure we won’t.”

Your drip-covered panties slipped through your thighs and were freed from your legs next, finding a way into his pocket. He just put his hands back on your hot skin, under the dress of yours. He pressed kisses to your soft skin, just mumbling as his lips brushed it.

“Don’t you trust me, darling?” he urged you with his sweet tongue. “Me, baby? Your husband?”

His lascivious eyes found yours as he inclined his head slightly. “You know, I’d do anything for you.”

It was impossible to stay mad at him like this. When he was just on his knees to worship you. Your blurry mind was fighting for a notion to get him on his feet to leave here but your heart… It was just beating for him no matter what and he must’ve been aware of his spell on you. His precious girl, how could he not?

As he saw your torn expression on your lovely face, all blushed just for him, he quietly did what he wanted to do. He started to press kisses on your thighs as one of his hands went under your thigh to place your leg on his shoulder to dive into you. You softly gasped at his action and he successfully got you in the position he wanted. You felt his mouth closer to where you were wet.

“Just.. j-just once, baby.” you muttered to the air as your eyes were on him as he fisted your dress for not creating any distraction. “Mhm,” he hummed through your skin as you heard it barely. “Just once.”

Bruce did not waste any time as he reached his destination. He, at first, opened your legs with the help of your knee on his shoulder, then gave you small licks between your folds. You let out a breath, pressing your head against the wooden door behind you. He licked your wetness with a muffled groan and then slightly sucked the tender flesh with his mouth.

He spread you more by your thigh, diving his tongue more inside of your cunt which made you let out a breathy moan, and held your thigh in a grip that prevent you from losing balance. He started with his slow flickers of his tongue, tasting your hot juices in his mouth for good extended minutes. He prolonged his strokes, just filling you with his tongue. He then started to eat you out thrilled, thriving for every second of it. Your eyes were fluttering due to his mouth, and your hands were looking for anything to grip onto. Bruce roamed his tongue between your folds, up and down, some moments sucking them. You hid your mouth with the back of your hand to prevent your soft moans from reaching any possible person on the other side of the door.

The sweat started to form down your spine, as well as on Bruce’s temple as he was feasting on you between your thighs. You couldn't dare to run your ring-covered fingers through his hair to mess it up, yet it was already messy from his nuzzling there. For good minutes of eating you out in a languid way, he pulled your thigh to press your pussy more to his mouth, his slightly crooked nose stuffed in your wetness. He was licking, biting and sucking your soft flesh and fluids with his hungry appetite, making you dribble on his tongue lusciously. You were singing for him softly to the back of your hand.

Bruce gave your first orgasm with his tongue, just his finger on your clit to stimulate you, but his lips that you loved so much to kiss and sweet tongue were buried in your cunt.

You saw the stars, brighter than tonight's. You just remember the feeling so achingly at the moment. It was so thrilling, sending a jolt to your body. Thankfully, your husband was there to hold you because you were a mess from the pressure of his grip and the lazy strokes of his tongue. When you were breathing heavily with half-lidded eyes, looking down at him as he cleared every amount of your euphoric juices between your folds, you thought it was over. But in the next few minutes of Bruce’s good appetite, he wiped his thumb to clear your sweetness on his chin with his eyes on you. The vision of him was almost enough for you to be wet again, but your mind was blurry. Blurry that you couldn't realize his next motives.

Bruce pressed a few needy kisses on your lips, letting you taste your sweet flavor on his tongue, pulling you into his arms. Your arms found his shoulders for a balance but you realized he led you to one of the private stalls along with his discarded jacket. He just pushed you there before he entered and locked it after him. Your mind was too dizzy with him that you did not even realize him unlocking the main door of the restroom. So, it was open to anybody now.

Bruce tossed out his jacket in the corner before kissing you in the dense stall. He just handily altered your positions where he had you on his lap on the seat. He compelled you to straddle him as he kissed you, his hands under your dress on the bare skin.

“Be my good girl, yeah?” he murmured to your lips. “Let me see you ride.”

You were at the moment too messed up. Fucking in the some washroom stall was the last thing you thought he preferred to do. And you knew it was an effort to make him let go of the idea. You were just staring into his eyes with your pretty ones with uncertainty. He knew your inexperience in risky situations, for easing you, he was giving you his bedroom eyes that you couldn’t resist.

“Wasn’t it just… for once?” you murmured to him. He sighed against your lips, pulling you more to him where his lips brushed yours as he answered you. “I won’t leave this fucking room until we fuck.”

You were already flushed and his direct words were much for you, specifically with the fixed look in his eyes. He saw your quietness, so he leaned and kissed you softly. He knew you were scared of some ‘miscalculation’ but he knew better. He promised you about that, didn’t he?

You just let him kiss you, be intoxicated with you as he took his time. His thumb was caressing your bare skin, remembering the softness of it. He let you whimper into his mouth as he pushed his tongue in. You just loved him more when he was kissing so in love, gently coaxing you into him, softening you in his tongue as he liked. When you were breathless, you two broke the kiss, you drunk on him. You pressed your forehead against his with closed eyes, just to feel his proximity for extended moments. But he had other plans.

You felt him fiddling with his belt, the clicking sounds of it in your ears. You opened your eyes to look and found him with creased brows as he struggled to free himself. You sighed and gave in to his dangerous idea, your fingers working on the belt. It took your thirty-nine seconds to free his cock from his trousers, already hard in your warm palm.

He just breathed out a ‘Fuck,’ under his breath when you slowly rubbed the tip with your thumb. He let his head press back to the wall behind him with closed eyes as you grazed your finger on it. He slightly pulled you from your thighs to usher you to take him but you knew better. You just quietly played with his tip.

“Baby,” he muttered with a need in his tone. “Please.” he just simply continued his plea. One thing about him always surprised you that he wasn't playing any games with his requests or his pleas. If he needed you so fucking bad, he’d tell you straightforwardly. And he’d not try to dominate you into his plea. He’d be just good for you to take him however you liked. He was just yours.

“Will you do that for me, pretty girl?” he came back to your lips for a soft kiss. “Yeah?” he guided you with his lips.

“Yeah.” you whispered after one kiss. “Hm?” one kiss more, “That’s my girl.”

You two kissed until he helped you to be in a position to take him. You felt his tip between your folds, at your entrance. You softly moaned into his lips when he entered you. A few seconds of taking him fully gave you a familiar feeling you knew very well. You closed your eyes, letting your head fall on his shoulder as you exhaled quietly, his thickness filling you overly. He fixed the angles of his hips to be buried in you as much as he could, your pussy lovingly wrapping around him. He kissed your cheek before murmuring to your skin.

“Are you alright, baby?”

You hummed before finding his eyes. He gave you just a sweet smile of his and pecked your lips. As you started to move your hips, it was a bit of a struggle for you to find the pace. You started slowly, fully taking him, in and out, with your soft moans. He was just bare with nothing but his length inside of you pussy. It was so perfect, so right as you moved on his cock. He was quietly tensing his jaw for not to make any sound other than his occasional groans.

His hands were on your hips and thighs, holding you from falling as you rode him how you yearned for. You just started at a slow but steady pace, but he encouraged you to be faster with his blue eyes under his creased brows from the pleasure he was having as much as you were. Your scorching pussy had been squeezing him too flawlessly from thrusts, luring him for more of you. You tried to take him as much as you could with you needy state, moving your hips to hit your sweet spots.

Your breathing started to speed up from the movements of your hips before the main door of the washroom opened and a few girls came inside. You were too stunned, halting your hips immediately. But Bruce, God, he was just surprised for a few seconds before he turned back to his high feelings of your pussy clenching his cock without any mind. In fact, he was only surprised that it took so long for someone to use the restroom.

The girls were loud and ecstatic in their own world, not presuming what was happening behind one of the locked stall doors. Your mind was dizzy and alert at the same time but your Bruce knew how to handle you. He just started to press softest kisses on your throat and neck silently as he could (he was very sure that the girls wouldn't even notice your hushed actions, but he knew you were like a deer in the headlights. His lovely doe.), then soft whispers to your ear.

“I got you, baby.” he murmured barely as he skillfully inclined you to lift your hips. Your panicked eyes locked in his but he was effortless — like how he knew how to twist it to his will. That arrogant husband of yours. He, a few times, made you continue to ride him which resulted in your strained moans against his neck. The girls were speaking about a theme passionately to notice your sweetest, softened sounds.

The whole six minutes passed as one of the most dreadful moments in your life. You just prayed they’d leave and no one would enter until you two were finished. Bruce guided you unhurriedly in those minutes, nestling to your skin with his kisses, making you wrap your arms around his neck as he helped you to move your hips. He was pampered in his seat, his thumb brushing on the soft skin of your hip as he was sucking and biting throat, — blooming the faded spots again — while you were holding him dearly. And when the girls left and you were now alone in the restroom again, you caught his eyes. You were speechless but he pecked your lips and muttered, “I told you to trust me.”

You just sighed at his neck in disappointment and he only smiled at himself. He kissed your hair as you hid your face, murmuring a ‘please’ for you interrupted moment. You breathed out in peace, the quiet relief in your heart that you were actually out of sights. It took you a few moments but he got you just as needy as before with his words and kisses in the following minutes, to tutor you to ride him just like earlier.

“There you go, baby, just — fuck — just like that.”

You pressed your forehead against his as you moved your hips with a sheen on your temple as his. He was just burning just as you, in his white, tailor-made unbuttoned shirt in the heat, holding you skillfully as you were fucking him. A whole extended period of thrusting on his cock got you to the finish line. Your soft moans and mewls were filling the dense air between as your cunt was utterly tightening with his thickness over and over again. And when you felt the familiar pressure in your stomach, you just called his name into his ear.

He could feel how your pussy was clenching him, giving him his elated seconds. “Fuck, are you close?” he asked you as he pressed kisses on your neck. “Hm?”

“Uh-huh..”

You felt his fingertips on your clit, pressuring the exact spot got you breathless. “B-Baby..,” you breathed out to his neck. He knew the tone of your voice and the desperation of the moment and did what he usually does. It felt amazing, so dazzling when the euphoria blinded you. You just remember the tight clasp of yours around his neck and the deep inhale of air. The next thing you reminisce about was that you were in his arms, nuzzling into his neck with soft exhales.

You never fully remembered how he came but he did after you with the squeezing of your cunt as you came and your sweet calling out of his name. He came inside of you, his thick seed filling you and now, messy between your thighs. You two were breathless, pressed up against each other in silence.

You felt his fingers tangled in your hair later. He was serenely and contently running his calloused fingers through it. You felt his fingers then pushing your locks on your face, on your blushed cheeks before his hand found your face to angle you to him.

When your eyes met, you two smiled at each other. He softly traced your bottom lip, his blue eyes fixed on that. He then gently grabbed your chin between his fingers to pull you in for a kiss. You shared a few more kisses happily, appreciating them one by one.

“You are a mess.” you whispered as your eyes were lovingly carving his features into your mind. “Am I?” he muttered as his eyes slightly crinkled.

God, you loved him so much.

His hair was messy, his pale cheeks were tinted in the fluorescent light as yours and his stupid smile detailed on his mouth. He brushed your cheek with his thumb, pulling you in for the last kiss.

“We should better be gone, baby.” he muttered to your lips. You just hummed, sluggish in your reply. He just smiled at your mood and pressed a kiss on your temple. “We can cuddle in bed, come on. Unless you want to spend some time in here.”

You let him help you with taking himself out of you and pulling you up on your feet. You two were genuinely a mess, in any sense. It took you twenty minutes to be in ‘decent’ condition, after the refreshment of water and some kisses. Bruce had covered his jacket around you, for your disheveled dress and the love marks on your neck.

“Ready?” he murmured to your temple after a kiss as his arm circled you. You just nodded, thinking about how the hell you will leave before someone notices you two leave the restroom in that state. But as your Bruce said, he’d handle it.

thank you so much for reading!!! ♡

[sage-hawk]

UHM GUYS...

GUYS... IM QUESTIONING THINGS AGAIN.

HELP NO NOT AGAIN. 😭😭😭

(I'm not actually panicked or anything I'm just back in the hole of questions again so I'm fine! I read the explanation btw thats what started it....)

some aces are virgins

some aces love sex

some aces have sexual trauma

some aces don't want sex

some aces masturbate

some aces are teenagers

some aces are in their seventies

some aces dress modestly

some aces wear skimpy clothes

some aces only date aces

some aces don't want romance

and we're all valid : )

EDIT: EVERYONE THAT'S HAVING DISCOURSE IN THE NOTES WILL BE BLOCKED IF YOU'RE BEING AN ASS

Edit edit: Anyone that's confused about how asexuals could love/enjoy/want sex can go read this