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kitimeq · 4 months ago

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✿‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ say yes to heaven 🤍 sylus 秦 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ✿

pairing ✿‧₊˚: lads sylus x reader

summary ✿‧₊˚: 3+1: three times Sylus suppresses his desire to have you, and one time his control finally snaps. sprinkled with relationship fluff, size difference, love confessions and whole lot of overthinking from our fav crow boy.

word count ✿‧₊˚: 13.6k (a whole ass freaking novella, grab a snack.)

tropes ✿‧₊˚: 18+, 3+1, smut, but packed with feelings, fluff, est. relationship, body worship, plot with porn??, love confessions, sylus is obsessed, and so in love, first times implied, p in v, size difference, (by size difference i mean sylus is freaking huge, like a mountain of a man, so big it actually makes him nervous bc u so small, every single one of us would be a small dot next to him that’s my personal headcanon, have you seen his ib memory? yeah, yeah u have this man HUGE), anyways what is protection they don’t use it don’t be like them, needy sylus, pet names, everything is consensual, awooo.

author’s note ✿‧₊˚: hello! i was cooking this one for so much time, i hope it’s not too boring! I’m not a native speaker so i apologize in advance for all mistakes or repetitions. I was also trying to write inclusive y/n and i hope i succeeded. I also did not imagine y/n to have a specific body type — i truly believe that no matter your size, next to sylus you would look like a crumb. as small as a pebble. believe me, i’ve studied the sacred texts (night of secrecy, grassland romance, innocent birdcage do i really have to keep on listing the memories where he enormous u get the gist). so!! i hope you’ll enjoy it ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

!!do NOT read if you’re not 18+!!

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡ ݁

Sylus usually considered himself to be a patient man.

He occasionally did act on his desires—he could admit that much—but when it came to the things he truly cared about, the things he treasured, he didn’t mind the wait. He knew that the best things in life came at a price, and if the currency was time, in this case he was willing to pay in full. He knew it was worth it. That you were worth it.

You, who accepted him as he was, with all his flaws and imperfections, making his life better every day you were together. You, who were so brave, gentle, and kind that you made him want to become a better man too—just so that one day, he could say he truly deserved you. You, who he had completely fallen for, unable to imagine a world in which he wouldn’t make the same choice of courting you all over again.

That’s why he wanted nothing more than to treasure and respect you in every aspect of life—including intimacy and his own desires. And to be perfectly candid, he had plenty of those from the very moment he laid eyes on you. But he wanted to act like a gentleman, never rushing you into anything. He was patient, waiting for you to make the first move. He wanted to be sure you trusted him, that you weren’t afraid of him—or of the things he wanted to do to you if he ever got the chance.

And even after several months of officially dating you, he still stuck to his resolve, despite the unhealthy hunger growing inside him. He was adamant that you make the first move, even though the waiting was slowly killing him from the inside—his desires burning through his skin, desperate to see the light of your glossy eyes, to feel you squirming beneath him, and to hear your soft moans and whimpers, letting him know that you wanted him too.

He wanted you passionately. He didn’t desire anyone or anything else in his life. He had never thought of anyone else in such terms, which made the wait much more bearable, fun even. The occasional tension in the air only made things between you even more intriguing. Sylus wondered when the moment would come for you to finally let him explore you, taste you, just as he had wanted since the first time he held you in his arms.

He was a patient man. An inquisitive one, but patient nonetheless.

But it was just getting too much for him to handle lately.

He wondered if you were doing this on purpose. Were you trying to make him go feral with want, push him into some action? Maybe you were just too shy to ask for something more, and decided to coax him to take you right then and there? Was it an act? A part of your meticulous, sneaky plan?

He felt his sanity slowly dissipating.

“Sylus? Please, hurry up and help me, we have to go!” You turned your head to look at him, your lips puckered in an adorable pout, and your feet anxiously shifting from one to the other, the sound of your beautiful black heels clicking against the floor of your apartment. The red soles didn’t go unnoticed by him.

And what didn’t go unnoticed as well was how breathtakingly gorgeous you looked, dressed in your tight black gown that accentuated the figure he was obsessed with.

However, he was a strong man. He could look at you in a dress and not get an instant boner; he wasn’t some mere beast. But when you asked for his help, he realized that life hadn’t prepared him for everything you had up your sleeve.

Because right now, you stood before him, your back turned toward him, holding your hair in your hands and exposing a zipper that you wanted him to take care of. A zipper that ran from your neck down, down, down to your red lace panties, which peeked out from beneath the unzipped black material.

He turned his head upward at the sight, his hand reaching for the bridge of his nose, a silent prayer escaping his lips. If God existed, He was not merciful this time.

He could also clearly see that you weren’t wearing a bra, the soft skin of your back exposed, slightly hidden under the material of the dress. Hadn’t he suffered enough?

He wanted to bark. Badly.

Oh fuck, was he really going to bark?

He hoped not.

“Sy?” The nickname almost made his legs buckle. He needed a moment to calm himself after just one look at you, and it seemed to take him much longer than what would be considered natural. The impatience in your voice betrayed your desire not to be late for the opera performance, which he had promised to take you to today. He gulped audibly and realized that you had no idea what you were doing to him—and that scared him.

If you were this dangerous unintentionally, how will he survive when you’ll finally, consciously decide to take things further?

“Yes. Yes, of course, sweetie.” He managed to choke out and stepped closer to you, your delectable scent overwhelming his senses. He tried to hide the slight tremble in his hands as he reached for the zipper at the bottom of your dress. When he zipped you up, he took his sweet time caressing your body with his knuckles, basking in the soft feeling of your skin and the dangerous touch of the lace of your panties. He hoped you couldn’t hear his heartbeat—or see the pink in his cheeks. He couldn’t remember the last time he had blushed, but now he was sure of it, judging by the warmth on his face.

He was hopeless. Utterly ruined.

“There you go.” He said quietly, caressing your beautiful hair with his fingers, smoothing the creases which appeared after your hold. He brushed it from your neck and planted a slow kiss there, his movements far too composed for someone who was boiling with desire inside.

“Thank you. I couldn’t reach it at all and we’re already short on time.” You put your hand on his head, patting it gently and sighing when he touched your waist. He couldn’t help but squeeze you there, feeling the warmth of your skin through the soft material of your dress. You understood this gesture as teasing and giggled adorably.

“You look magnificent, my dove.” The compliment slipped through his lips, earning him your sweet smile and a kiss on a cheek. He watched as you passed him to grab your purse, going straight to the front door, leaving him behind. Trusting he’ll follow your step, as he always did.

Sylus closed his eyes and touched the very spot on his cheek where your lips had grazed, releasing a sigh that could be interpreted as both contentment and a silent prayer for endurance.

“You coming, Sy?” He could hear you calling for him, and he opened his eyes. His left one shone brightly at him from his reflection on the window. His Evol proved useless when his body already made it abundantly clear what—or whom—he desired the most.

“I fucking wish.” He whispered under his breath, turned around, and walked up to you, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as he reveled in the weight of your body pressing against him. His ears were graced by your little squeal, that quickly transformed into uncontrollable laughter, a sound he wanted to record and play every time you were away.

You slapped his back playfully and joked about wanting to use your legs once in a while, and he laughed, saying that he just wanted to make sure that he had all he needed with him. Then, he grabbed his coat with his Evol, and used it to slam the door after you both went out. He hoped that the lust he felt, which started to get out of his control, managed to stay behind them.

He waited for so long; how hard could it be to wait for another couple of months?

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Hard.

Tremendously hard, both theoretically and physically, given the reaction of his body upon the contact.

He shifted slightly so that you wouldn’t feel his growing bulge against your core, his hands hovered over your thighs, his cheeks flaming hot. He was about to fucking pass out.

But you were none the wiser, sitting on his body, strangling him with your soft, mouth-watering thighs, practically rubbing yourself against him, and performing your little dance of victory after pushing him to the ground during your sparring.

Normally, he would have laughed with you and treasured your moment of happiness, his senses overwhelmed by pride as he watched you get better and better at self-defense with every practice.

But that was just cruel.

Not only did you show up in that little piece of fabric covering your breasts, something you dared to call a sports bra, its thin straps reminiscent of a fish net, offering NO support whatsoever for your charms, but you also dared to wear that pair of leggings you claimed you had bought with your friend during your last trip to the mall.

And they were leaving nothing for his imagination, your every curve hugged tightly, every dip deliciously emphasized. And fuck, you looked gorgeous in wine red. You knew you did.

“I got it in your color! Do you like it?” You asked upon entering his gym, twirling for him like the most adorable fucking thing he had ever had the pleasure of seeing, your arms up and your hair still untied. He did saw red, and it wasn’t just the color of your clothing.

His color. His girl in his color, he was going absolutely feral.

“I do.” He choked out, and tried to avert his eyes from your posture but lost that battle quickly. “You look stunning. My little gem.” He answered and you dared to look at him sheepishly, your face showing the signs of getting flustered.

“I’m not just a gem anymore. I’m a professional fighter.” You playfully punched his shoulder, jumping around and mimicking boxing moves, making him laugh out loud as he grabbed your fists in his hands. He pulled you closer to him and kissed your forehead, his arms wrapping around your frame.

“Is that an apology in advance?” You asked him when his lips left your skin. He smirked, his brow raising.

“Might be. Today we’ll be practicing attacks and knocking down your opponent.”

“Me? Knocking you down?” You looked at him with disbelief, your hands dropping to your sides, already defeated. “I’m doomed. Sylus, can’t I knock down Luke or Kieran instead?” Your cute pout and hands clasped in a begging gesture made him laugh again, as he fixed the bandages on your hands.

“And you think they would be easier to conquer?”

“Yes. Obviously, yes.”

“But they wouldn’t make sure you’re not going to hurt yourself, kitten, and I already know your patterns…” He leaned over you, his hot breath caressing your ear, making you shiver. His hands avoided touching your body. “And weak spots…” A whisper and a gentle bite on your earlobe were enough to send your adrenaline soaring.

“You—!” You jumped from him, like a little kitten, your face flustered and gaze filled with playful threat. “You’re going down mister. You’re SO going dooown.”

And down he went.

Right under your soft body, squashed between your warm tights, looking up at your beautiful lips twisted in an adorable, cunning smirk.

Oh, the way he loved you. The way he wanted to have you. The intensity of that feeling started to suffocate him.

“Okay, you got me, sweetie.” He choked out and tried his best to sound as nonchalant as possible. But nothing about this situation was nonchalant—your soft tights squeezing his waist and your butt pressing on his weak spot almost made him see stars. He grabbed your waist to try to stop your body from moving and gritted his teeth, fighting with himself to not buckle his hips up. “Now, up. I admit defeat.”

Defeat that had to do with the improvement of your skills and the force of your little fists, yes, but also with the way Sylus was distracted by your body, his eyes wandering everywhere during the battle, but not the places he should actually pay attention to.

Apparently, he was a weak, weak man, when the situation concerned you. Weak and impossibly horny.

“Hmm, I’m not sure if I want to.” You answered, a mischievous glint adored your gaze. He drank that expression in.

Beautiful. You were absolutely beautiful, sitting on him, your body sparkling with sweat, face red from the exhaustion. How could he keep his mind from going places? “I think I like you like this.” His eyebrows went up, and cheeks felt a little bit too warm for his liking.

What were you trying to say?

“Yes? Like what, kitten?” His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. He knew that you could feel it, one of your hands rested on top of it, stroking his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin through his shirt. He shivered, his body covered in goosebumps, finding the gentle touch too intense, somehow.

“Towering over you.” His breath hitched; his heart almost stopped its beating. “It’s much easier to look at your face when I’m like this. It’s nice.” His heart squeezed instead, your confession turning out to be more touching than teasing, and he cursed himself internally for belittling your interactions and intimacy lately. His mind immediately assumed sexual undertones, where everything you were doing with him, at your own, unique pace should be more than enough for him.

“You like looking at me that much, huh?” He answered, his hand going up to caress your cheek with the back of his fingers. He smiled with content, and he put his hand at the nape of your neck, hoping you’ll understand the implications.

You did. Not a second later you lowered your body so that you were lying on top of him, one of his hands holding you to himself by your waist, pressing you even closer together. He acknowledged how much he loved your full weight on his body, your hearts pressed so close to each other they started beating as one.

You put your hands on his cheeks, smiled down at him, and pressed a small kiss to one of his eyelids, and then to the tip of his nose. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling.

“Of course. You’re my beautiful boy, Sylus.” You whispered to him, a smile adoring your face and he couldn’t help himself. He pulled you close by your neck and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, almost whimpering into your mouth from the intensity of his feelings.

You reciprocated the kiss, not hesitating even for a second, and soon, both of your lips were swollen and glistening, your minds filled with sparkles and cotton.

You were the one to break the kiss, your mind going dizzy, body trembling from the arousal. He could feel it without using his Evol—the desire that raised within you, the fire that now flowed through your veins. His eyes sparkled with anticipation.

One moment and you’ll go pliant against him, melting into his embrace.

One second, and he’ll finally taste heaven, be as close to you as anyone ever has been.

“Y/N, will it be alright if I—” He started speaking, your eyes looking at him from above as you held onto his cheek and neck, caressing his skin with your thumbs, making him feel oh, so cherished. Yet, he didn’t manage to finish the request because a sudden crash from the door opening pierced through the silent room, popping your comfortable bubble in an instant.

You jumped out of his embrace, leaving him cold and yearning, his hands sliding over his face in frustration.

“Boss—”

“Luke, Kieran it better be fucking important.” Sylus hissed through his teeth, and the fact that he didn’t even try to hide his frustration made you huff out a laugh and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand. You didn’t want to laugh at him so openly, hiding how adorable his anger towards boys seemed to you at that moment.

His eyes caught yours, lured by the bubbly sound, and one of the corners of his mouth went up slightly. He raised his hand to your covered mouth and brought your hand down with his fingers, revealing your smile.

“It is, Boss! The Girm Company chairman called and demanded a meeting in thirty minutes.” Luke said quickly, Kieran peeking out from behind his shoulder. “And he didn’t want to take “no” for an answer.” Kieran added, his body now revealed.

You were not sure if Sylus was even listening, his eyes glued to your face, his fingers tracing the line of your smile absentmindedly. He still didn’t raise from the floor of the ring, his posture relaxed, one arm now resting behind his head.

“That bastard.” He answered under his breath, and closed his eyes in annoyance for a second and when he opened them, they were once again glued to you. “If you don’t want me to leave, just say a word.” He said, and put a strand of your hair behind your ear. The back of his hand started a slow caress of your cheek, and you felt embarrassed, knowing that the boys were still looking at you both, waiting for Sylus’s answer.

“It’s okay, Sy. I actually have some errands to run in Linkon so I better get going.” You answered, grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to his fingers. His breath hitched, eyes following the movement with a longing deep in his chest. “Besides, I’m tired of beating your ass today. Save some dignity for the next time.” You added with a mischievous look, poking his hard chest with your finger teasingly.

The laugh that came out of his chest was sudden—loud, deep, and so sincere that it warmed your chest, your lips spreading in a proud smile. He grabbed your hand off of his chest and brought it to his lips, kissing your fingertips. The mirth in his eyes clearly visible, the affection bare and tangible.

“You are so generous, sweetie. Letting your pray off the hook so easily.” He couldn’t stop smiling even when he was raising to his feet, his hand going to massage his left shoulder. He looked at you and offered you his hand, which you immediately accepted. He helped you stand, his eyes tracing your every move, still unable to look away.

Your body entranced him, your presence lit a fire in his veins. The point where your hands touched warm and almost overwhelming. His desire for more once again proven unquenchable.

“Boys, let him know I’ll be there. It seems that I need to remind him who actually is in the position to make demands.” His voice was now authoritative, followed by the boys’ exclamations of “Will do, boss,” along with two salutes send his way.

And they were gone just as quickly as they had appeared.

“Don’t be too harsh on the chairman. I don’t want to get in the way of your business.” He saw you turn to him with a worried expression on your face, and he leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering on the spot for much longer than necessary.

“Hmm, I’m afraid that’s impossible.” He took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles, looking deep into your eyes. The sadness of you parting ways already blooming inside him. “They cut our time together short, so I’m planning on making them pay for that offense generously.” He smirked and watched you shake your head with disbelief, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I already miss you.” He heard you saying and you surprised him by throwing your arms around his neck, then kissing him almost senseless.

He closed his eyes and returned the kiss, which was starting to border on filthy. His hands grabbed your frame, pressing you closer to him, as his body bent toward you.

When you parted, your breaths were hot and heavy, a string of saliva still keeping your mouths connected. He stared at the filthy sight, his heart pounding in his chest, his boxers starting to become a rather tight fit. You placed a hand on his chest and pushed him away gently, your fingers trailing downward until they grazed his abdomen. He gulped audibly and remained still, watching you walk further and further away. He didn’t trust himself to move even an inch, afraid he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself anymore.

“Bye, Sylus. I’ll let you know when I get home safely.” You told him, walking away backwards now, your eyes not leaving his. “And we’ll continue what we started next time, okay, Boss?” The last part a whisper from your sweet lips, almost making him drop to his knees right then and there. You waved at him, shyness visible on your cheeks, and then you left him in the middle of the ring, stunned and filled with excruciating desire to finally have you.

Next time.

He groaned, his hands covering his blushing face, his mind already imagining the things he’ll do to you, only if you let him. God, he hoped that you’ll let him.

He did arrive late to the meeting that day, having to compose himself for much longer than you would have expected. He also made sure the chairman regretted keeping him away from you—your softness, your scent, an addictive drug he never wanted to be deprived of. The audacity to take that from him deserved nothing less than the highest of punishments.

He couldn’t help it; he already missed you.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Sylus could write poems about his beloved, listing all her remarkable qualities and quirks; however, not once would he describe her as elegant and composed.

You usually were a tornado of various emotions, a temple of the things you cherished, your expressions lively and loud, honest and unrestrained.

You were also a bit clumsy—an occasional stumble, a bump to your limb now and then, or a broken glass wasn’t anything that Sylus hadn’t see you do before. He often worried about you and your safety, with new bruises appearing on your body from bumping into things or a piece of glass piercing through your delicate skin. Sometimes, he wished he could protect you from yourself too, but all he could do was press a kiss to every small injury you sustained from your hectic movements.

All bumps aside, he utterly adored that quality of yours. Every time he caught you acting awkwardly his chest seemed to shrink on itself, his heart squeezing, cute aggression overcoming his senses. You were just so adorable in those moments, the sight always reminding him of a little fawn, beautiful but uneasy on its feet. His craving to grab you and hold you in his arms, protecting you from the whole world, was strong; the urge to press a kiss to your forehead, then to kiss you senseless, even stronger. You were his little chaos: wonderful in your unexpectedness, extraordinary in every sense of the word.

Needless to say, he was used to your adorable clumsiness. He loved it.

That was probably why his brain stopped working when you proved to be everything but clumsy while playing the games at the local funfair. Your moves sure and precise, your gaze locked onto the targets, your body positioned exactly how it should be in order to gain the reward you wanted—whether it was a new plushie, a funky gadget or even some snacks.

And he had to say that this new, confident, borderline cocky behavior you were displaying was making him feel some things.

“Wait, let me try this time.” You said the first time he couldn’t score the prize, the claw mocking him relentlessly, wounding his pride.

You got that plushie in one, excellent attempt.

“Let me get that for you, Sy.” You proposed later, seeing him eyeing a figurine of a crow that reminded him of Mephisto. You were able to get not only that, but also a coupon for a food stall that served the best waffles you’ve ever eaten. As for Sylus, the sweetness of the treat paled in comparison to your blinding smile, with whipped cream still staining the corner of your mouth. He swiped it away with his thumb, then licked the digit, sending you a wink in the process.

He took pride in your blush, especially when making each other red that day started to feel like a competition between you two, whether you were aware of it or not.

“You want this one? Say no more, handsome.” Your words almost making him choke, your hands already grabbing the controls, your body bending over the machine, offering him a wonderful view of your ass. The tips of his ears immediately started to feel as if caught on fire. Even though he knew that you were teasing him, the pet name sounding foreign from your lips, he liked the feeling of you taking the initiative.

He also couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering, your body presented to him in a way that felt illegal to watch. He swiped his gaze up from the nape of your neck to your shoulders, taking note of your delicious-looking waist, perky butt, and thighs, which seemed lonely without his hands squeezing and kneading the soft flesh.

The cheerful sound of the machine made him snap back into reality, just as you were looking over your shoulder, sending him the sexiest, oh so sexy, proud smirk he ever saw in his life. He smirked right back, even though his legs felt disturbingly like jelly.

“I’m starting to think you enjoy this.” He remarked, grabbing the prize from your hands once again, the rest of your treasures already sitting comfortably in the back of his car. You send him a mischievous smile and fixed your hair, your fingers threading through the strands, the smell of your perfume reaching him once again during that night.

He wanted to devour you.

“And what’s wrong with that?” One of your hands grabbed his bicep, holding on to him as you started your lazy stroll in search of yet another entertainment. “You always get me things. And since I know now that you suck at these games, I have a perfect opportunity to return the favor.” He laughed at that, his hand moving to flick your forehead.

“I don’t suck at these games, all of them are tempered with, sweetie. I actually find it astonishing that you are so good at them.” His reply kind of soothing his wounded pride, his mind once again remembering your movements from before. The way you moved with confidence and grace, the little smirks and winks you send his way. His blood started to boil several stalls ago, and it hasn’t calmed since. “Makes one wonder about the extent of your abilities.”

The new, cocky, and self-confident side of you aroused him almost to the point of him grabbing you by the waist and taking you to his car, taking advantage of his tined widows.

“It all comes down to having a good strategy, as someone once taught me.” You said, repeating the words Sylus is always saying to you during your training, a mirth lacing your tone. How he adored you.

“Wise counseling you have here, kitten. You must have a fantastic teacher, if his lessons are proving to be useful anywhere you go.” The smile not leaving your face making him never want to look away.

“Oh, yes, he is. And an eye-candy too.” You touched his nose with the tip of your finger teasingly while he laughed. He stopped walking and turned to you fully, his arms closing around your waist, bringing you to him, close enough for your bodies to touch. The height difference always made him dizzy, with your head fully tilted upward in order to catch his gaze.

“Mm. Maybe that’s a quality he learned from you.” His tone quiet, one of his hands going to touch your cheek, his thumb pressing on your bottom lip. You appeared stunned. “I cannot think of someone sweeter than you. If he’s a candy, you’re one delectable dessert.” He whispered, his eyes going from your eyes to your lips, their reddish tone reminding him of a little cherry. He was fighting with himself not to put his hands on your ass, and squeeze the flesh that you kept pushing his way from the very beginning of your date, or not to place a kiss on your smart little mouth, which kept sending him these playful smirks all day long. He knew that if he started here, he would not be able to stop. No one would be capable of separating him from you, public place be damned.

His desire boiling inside him, threatening to melt his vessels and pour from his body, enveloping you in a tight, pleasurable embrace. He felt feverish, your body pressed to his giving him all the warmth he ever needed, molding his thoughts to fit only your frame.

You were perfect in his eyes. Your body, the perfect shape for him to hold, your face the only one he wanted to remember. And the way he felt when he was with you—so immensely happy, so carefree, so right—was a feeling he had never even dreamed about having. Your banter, little jokes and witty comments made him so at ease he never wanted to stop talking to you, afraid of depriving himself of even a second of the comfort you brought him: the knowledge that he could speak his mind freely, for you understood him beyond the limitations of language. By your side, he could be himself, the thoughts in his head quiet, giving way to expressing himself in any way he wanted. His little taste of heaven: the time you spent together.

He loved you. So intensely it used to scare him, but now he was offering himself willingly, no longer afraid of rejection. Even though you both still didn’t acknowledge it out loud, the feeling lingered in the air between you — a delectable sweetness, a comforting fragrance.

He wanted you. Body and soul. Soul and body. He liked to think he already had your soul in grasp, your actions and openness served as a perfect proof of that, yet your body was still his to claim. And the fact that there was still a part of you he didn’t manage to possess, to thoroughly acknowledge, frustrated him inconceivably.

Especially because you had that strong of an effect on him. Everything you did capable of driving him perfectly insane. Oh, how you had him wrapped around your little finger, without being aware how completely obsessed he was with you.

“Is that so?” His gaze went from your hypnotizing eyes back to your lips, drinking in every single whisper. You stood on your tiptoes, the sight making his hands squeeze your waist tighter, his breath quickening, mind trying to process closer distance. “If he keeps sweet-talking me like this, then I guess he will finally get to taste it.” You grabbed his chin and tilted it down, pressing a soft, drawn-out kiss to his lips. His eyes closed immediately, desperate to heighten his senses. He wanted this kiss to last, both in the moment and later in his memory.

And just as he was about to wrap his arms around your back, pulling you closer, hiding your body from everyone else just to steal a few more kisses, you stepped back, the quiet sound of a smooch echoing between you. He bit his lip, almost drawing blood, restraining himself from chasing after your lips.

“C’mon now. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve that I need to show you.” You gripped his hand tighter and started to walk toward one of the booths. You sent him a smile over your shoulder, making his efforts to calm his racing heart futile. “And then maybe we can grab some cotton candy? All this talk about sweets made me crave some.”

“Anything for you, sweetie.” He answered absentmindedly, your taste still lingering on his lips. How were you always able to move on from the kisses so quickly? It would be the only thing he could think about in the next minutes.

“And what do you want?”

“Hmm?” The question shocked him, his eyebrows going up, his eyes intently observing your face.

“Do you have something you’d like to do while we’re here? I keep dragging you stall to stall ever since we came here.” You said while turning to fully face him, grabbing both of his hands. “I want you to have fun too.”

“I always have fun when I’m with you.” His response honest, his thumb caressing your knuckles. “You make life so interesting. And today you already managed to surprise me, so I would say that was more than enough entertainment for me in a day.” You rolled your eyes at him, a small smile on your lips, and looked at him with patience.

“But the day’s not over yet. Isn’t there anything you’d like to do? Look around.”

He lifted his head from your frame and began taking in the booths and various food stalls that had previously escaped his attention. He hummed, and he could feel you shifting on your feet, unable to contain your excitement.

That’s when he caught something interesting out of the corner of his eye—a couple emerging from a small booth, huge smiles plastered on their faces as they held small pieces of paper. A spark of excitement ignited inside him upon realizing what it was.

“There. I want to have a memento.” He said, his finger pointing to that innocent-looking booth. Almost impossible to spot in the abundance of lights and sounds coming from other attractions.

“Okay! I think I already won you a mountain of mementos but if—Ah!” Your eyes lit up when you realized what he was pointing to, your lips spreading in a cheerful smile. “A photo booth! Sylus, that’s wonderful!”

It wasn’t long before you were both inside the booth, the space cramped, almost too small for him to fit. He sat on the small stool, taking up nearly all the space, leaving you no choice but to sit on one of his legs. Your arms wrapped around his neck for stability, yet there wasn’t a hint of discomfort on your face.

He loved how natural it was for you to be this close to him, the proximity no longer making you nervous. He still remembered how you were at the beginning of your acquaintance, when even an eye contact was enough to make you shy away. Now, touching him was as easy as breathing, your body relaxed and pliant under his wandering hands.

While you were clicking playfully on the screen, setting up the machine, he took his time observing you—mainly how your body looked next to his, which made him short-circuit, reminding him why he was still waiting for you to make the first move in initiating sexual intimacy. The reason he didn’t want to rush things, nervousness buried deep inside his chest.

You were sitting on his leg, your whole body weighting next to nothing, his one limb nearly twice as big as both of yours. Your soft flesh pressed to him didn’t even take up half of the place available on his leg, and when he put one of his hands on your back, the huge patch of your skin he was able to cover made him gulp audibly.

You were so tiny, next to him.

He was a huge man, and he knew that. Not just his height, but his overall build made even other men look small in comparison. While he usually considered it one of his greatest assets, a fantastic tool for intimidation, in this particular case, it planted a seed of worry in him.

It took some time for you not to shy away from his touch, not to flinch every time he leaned to you, his body covering whole line of your vision. And it took him even more time to learn how he should touch you and hold you, not to put too much force behind his caresses, not to make you bruise. And although the gentleness run in his bloodstream by now, he was still worried about the actual sex.

What if he scares you? His body completely covered your delicious curves without issue.

What if he overwhelms you? His stamina and eagerness matched his overall size.

What if he hurts you? The thought of your body unable to accommodate to his size made his blood run cold.

He looked at your body again, and he had to hold in a sigh. He loved your curves, the unbelievable softness of your skin, how warm you were. He felt his hunger increasing every day, every minute, every second he spent in your presence.

Yet he had to wait patiently, not wanting to scare you. He also knew that you were starting to get bolder with him day by day. He liked to think that it was just a matter of time until you will initiate something more, cover him with your soft embrace, let him melt in your warmth.

Because at the end of the day, his observations of your size difference not only filled his mind with fear, but also made his body tingle in all the right places. The arousal he felt knowing that he could manhandle you without any issue, cover your whole body entirely with his, shield you from the world and its coldness—all consuming. The only thing he could think about.

You were tiny in his embrace.

But he could make it work. He will make it work so good.

How could he hurt you when he was so certain that you were made to be his? Two halves of a perfect soul.

His hand slid down to hug your waist and he pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder. It made you giggle, you thought that it was his way of showing impatience. And it was, in a way. Just not the kind of impatience you assumed it was.

“All set! I had some fun with the stickers, do you want to choose your own?” He looked at the screen and opened his mouth to deny, but one sticker did actually catch his attention. He clicked on the small dove and placed it in the bottom of the template, next to the various hearts you already decorated it with.

“That’s you. The resemblance is almost striking.” He said making you laugh and you picked a sticker of some kind of a black bird.

“And that’s you. They unfortunately don’t have a crow one so this little fella has to work.” You placed the sticker close to the dove one, satisfied with your work.

“I get the vision. When I’m squinting my eyes, I guess.”

You had four pictures taken, all accompanied by laughter and endless teasing. One where you kissed his cheek, one hand holding his jaw, his eyes closed and features relaxed. One where he pretended to bite your neck, your face caught in laughter. One where he rolled his eyes, reacting to your lame joke of getting rabies from his bite, as you placed your pointed fingers above his head, adoring him with imaginary horns, your mouth open in fake shock. And the last one, where you grabbed his face and kissed him, his gentle smile pressed against your mouth, a picture of joy that couldn’t be restrained.

“I might have gone kind of overboard with the stickers.” You said when you got your two copies of the pictures, four perfect rectangles inside a scarlet border, adorned with hearts, flowers and stars. Two adorable birds were at the very bottom of it, just below the date. Sylus looked at the pictures, and his heart seemed to grow bigger, the wave of emotions making him unable to utter even a simple word. “But I think they’re cute regardless! It’s so nice to finally have a picture of us printed out. I’m definitely going to frame mine.” You said and took out your phone to take a picture of it.

His thumb gently caressed the piece of paper, words still stuck in his throat.

It was the very first picture of you two together, and when he looked at it, he couldn’t help but get emotional, knowing that he never expected to have someone like you in his life. Someone to cherish, to protect, to hold. Someone who reciprocated his feelings, someone who will never leave him, even if doomsday falls upon Linkon, even if the world crumbles.

“Are you okay, Sy? You’ve gone nonverbal again.” He felt your hand on his wrist, offering him a gentle squeeze. He finally looked at you, going out of the trace he was in, and saw your beautiful face laced with concern. He felt your hand going up and down his arm, caressing him in order to bring comfort.

“Did I?” He managed to choke out and hugged you to his chest, craving the closeness, not wanting you to see his slightly glistening eyes. He feared that the darkness of the night would not be enough to cover them, the lights from the fun fair only exaggerating his sudden surge of emotions. “They’re perfect. Thank you.” You hugged his torso tightly, your arms going up and down his back. You knew him well enough to realize he got emotional, but you were smart enough to let him savor his feelings in peace. If he was not comfortable showing you his tears, you had to understand it—the knowledge of how much it meant to him already warming your heart.

“Anything for you, Sylus.” You repeated the same thing he said to you earlier, and he picked you up, still hugging you to himself, his face finding coverage in the crook of your neck.

“Sly little thing.” He whispered and pressed a kiss there, drinking in the sound of your laugh and melting under the touch of your fingers, which stroked his hair affectionately.

Oh, how he couldn’t wait to finally be yours completely.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Mesmerizing.

You, dancing in his room at two p.m to the new vinyl he bought, your hair down, arms up. Your eyes were closed and there was a small, relaxed smile playing on your lips, that seemed to grow bigger with each sway of your hips. You decided to wear the nightgown he got you some time ago, white lace caressing your body with a gentle flow of the shiny fabric.

He couldn’t breathe. All air sucked out of his lungs the moment he turned around and saw you swaying to the music he picked out. A surge of want so intense came over him that he was afraid to move even an inch—his body on fire, his mind filled with the visions of you, thoughts of you, and what you could be reduced to, enriched with under the touch of his hands.

If only he wasn’t a coward.

“Will you join me?” you said over your shoulder, opening your eyes slightly, and you must’ve seen something unusual in his eyes, because your movements slowed down and a furrow appeared between your brows. He wanted to kiss it off instantly. “Sy?”

You were so precious and delicate, a perfect opposite of his harsh exterior and even more barbaric interior. He waited so long, restrained himself for so much time, waiting for you to move first—now, standing before you, the thought that you wanted him this way too pierced a hole in his heart and filled it with fear.

“Forgive me. I cannot.” he answered, his voice coming out with a slight growl, that he couldn’t contain anymore. He inhaled deeply and gritted his teeth, hoping that he was at least successful in not making his eye glow, his Evol suddenly unstable. He didn’t want to know your desires, not when they were visible so clearly on your face now—openness and anticipation, ever since you went back from your date.

He hoped that shower would be able to calm you down, even though the warm and steady stream of the water didn’t manage to help him this time around.

He was losing his composure and he was losing it fast. Weeks of this insatiable hunger, unrelenting need and dripping tension did that to him. He knew he was fighting a losing battle ever since he laid his eyes on you today, looking so cozy in your oversized sweater, filling the air around him with your intoxicating scent.

He was ready to devour you months ago, the buildup straining his muscles now, making him restless. He was a goner—one wrong move and his previous patience and willingness for you to take the lead reducing to vapor.

“Why? We always dance together to your vinyls, especially the new ones.” Your movements faltered to a stop, your magnificent face turned to him, with an expression so honest it made his heart clench painfully.

He thought of all the times you danced under the moonlight, soft notes of his favorite music floating through the air, your bodies moving to the rhythm, sometimes gracefully, some other times not so much. The feelings overwhelmed him even more drastically, his eyes closing for a moment.

It was enough time for you to close the distance, and soon he felt your cold hand pressing against his cheek, swiping the flesh with your thumb. He squeezed his eyelids shut tighter, the touch making his soul burn. You took his head in both of your hands, lowering it to face you.

“Sylus, talk to me.” you said, tone worried. He could feel you standing on your tiptoes, wanting to bring your face closer to his. His body almost shaking with the need to hold you. “You’re acting very unusual today. Is something wrong?” He exhaled the air he didn’t know he was holding and opened his eyes. Your face was so close that he could see the shadow your eyelashes cast on your cheeks. He could feel your breath, warm and inviting.

“I can’t touch you now,” he managed to utter, his hands at his sides, struck in cruel stillness. He locked his eyes with yours, filled with worry and a comforting gentleness. You were always so gentle with him; it made him go insane. “Because if I do, I won’t be able to hold back anymore.”

He saw the realization in the shift of your features as you fully grasped the meaning of his words. To his surprise, you took one of his hands in yours, and placed it on your cleavage, right over your beating heart, the rhythm beneath his palm fast but steady.

“Then don’t. Why would you even want to hold back with me?” You answered, slightly breathless, a pleasurable tingling already setting deeply in your abdomen. You looked at his face, the redness of his cheeks nearly matching the color of his eyes, the look he gave you so desperate it turned your legs to cotton.

The sudden burst of happiness in your chest almost made you tremble, you had waited so long for him to finally claim you as his, and it seemed he had finally reached his limit.

“I don’t—” He stumbled upon his words; a reaction so different from his usual self-confident demeanor it made you crave to uncover more versions of him. All versions of him, every single one he was willing to show you. “I can’t help but fear that I will hurt you. You are so soft, so breakable, it makes me nervous. Aren’t you scared of me? Of—Of what I could do, to you?” The confession slipping out of him, and he grabbed your wrist in one hand, the other coming to rest on your back. He slowly brought you to him, pressing your bodies together. He heard your breath falter, and drank that sound in. Then don’t — you had no idea what a hurricane you managed to stir inside him with just two simple words.

“Sy. My sweet, caring gentleman.” He heard your answer, and felt your fingers caressing his under eyes gently, your eyes never leaving his. One of your fingers touched the wrinkle between his brows, smoothing the furrowed surface. “You could never hurt me, even if you wanted to. You’re so fixated on the knowledge what you can do, that you’re forgetting that you’ve never even touched me hard enough to leave a bruise. No matter how much I wanted you to, sometimes.”

“You—”

“I’m not scared of you, Sylus. I could never, and I will never be scared of you. You’re the one with whom I feel the safest.” His hands started trembling, his patience thinning with every beautiful word from your lips. You were telling him things he didn’t even know how desperately he wanted to hear. “And I want you. I want to finally feel you, all your roughness and sharp edges. I want all of it.” The sound of your breathing mingled with the soft tunes of the vinyl. The air thick with want.

Any second now, he could feel it in the shiver down his spine.

“And I want it now.”

Snap.

His resolve shattered as he pulled you into him, capturing your lips in a kiss so deep and desperate it left your legs trembling. He kissed you with raw intensity, his tongue exploring your mouth, drinking in every sound you made as his hands roamed your body, claiming every inch he could reach.

You felt him everywhere. Your thighs, hips, waist, your neck, hair and breasts—he seemed to touch everything he was depriving himself of before. His hands huge, and although slightly rushed and trembling, still surprisingly gentle.

He lifted you up, your legs straining his waist and he laid you down on his bed, not breaking the kiss for even a second, your breath his breath, your lips water to quench his thirst.

His head was spinning, and when he finally opened his eyes the sight before him alone made him lose his mind.

You were sprawled under him, your hair a wild mess, your lips swollen from the abundance of his kisses. Your eyes glistened, the look in them so full of trust and love, love so visible it nearly broke him in half.

“You’re exquisite. Irresistible. Ethereal.” The praises slipped out of his tongue before he could stop them. The last bit of control fleeting with the touch of your impatient fingers, unbuttoning his shirt, taking it off of him in a matter of seconds. He couldn’t even find it in himself to tease you for your impatience, not when his brain already turned into mush after touching your bare skin. “You look as if you’re coated in frosting. My sweet girl, my most delectable little sin.” His eyes focused on your white dress; his hands not brave enough to let it slip off of you yet. He already feared the man he would become upon seeing you fully bared before him.

“Sylus—”

“It’s unholy. How much I want you.” His lips traced a path from beneath your ear down to your neck, finding their place on your collarbones. “How much I need you. The greed unexplainable, insatiable no matter how close I get to you. It’s not enough. It will never be enough.” His eyes met yours in a silent question and you nodded quickly in permission, gulping audibly, your eyes drooping. He let his hands travel up your legs, grazing your inner thighs, swiping through your hips, his palms tracing the lace of your panties, making the hair on his body raise. He then swiped through your waist and finally, finally his hands rested on your breasts, where you wanted them from the very beginning.

His breath hitched as he looked down your body, noticing how his touch had already lifted the fabric of your dress, baring your legs and stomach. His body shielded you from the chill in the air.

He squeezed your breasts gently, fondling them in his hands, a low groan escaping his lips—the same ones which couldn’t resist kissing your belly, anywhere he could reach, not even thinking about stopping his sensual kneading. It baffled him, how soft you were, how pliant under his touch. His hands, although taking so much of the space on your body didn’t seem to make you nervous at all—every single one of his touches you accepted with soft sights, low whines and a bitten lip. You trusted him, and he was drunk on that trust, wanted more, needed to see how far it could take him.

It quickly appeared that there was no limit to the things he could do to you, your whispers not only appreciative, but also encouraging. The uncontrollable thrusts of his hips against the duvet bordered on painful, the knowledge that he would have you in mere minutes making him unbearably hard. But he accepted the friction, your comfort mattered to him the most, and he wanted to take care of you properly.

“Sylus. Sylus, more, please.” He heard your silent plea, and caught your eyes in his, and that’s when he decided it was a time for you to drop the dress. He helped you out of it then licked the goosebumps forming between your breasts, each tiny dot on your skin making him awfully aware that this was it. Your beautiful form, completely bare, just for him to see, to worship.

“My little gem.” He breathed out, his eyes drinking in your body, committing to his memory every dip and curve. “My treasure.” He nearly growled, his mouth attached to your breast, licking and sucking on your nipple, moaning in the process. He wanted to devour you whole, to not leave a patch of skin untouched by his mouth. He thrived in the way you took hold of his head, your hands messing up his hair, caressing it when his tongue worshipped your breasts and nipples, drowning in their softness. He found his safe place.

“Oh God I—I feel like I’m floating, please don’t stop.” He heard you breathe out, your chest heaving, your legs closing in an attempt to relieve the tension building inside you. “You’re so good. So, so, so good, Sy.” He released one of your nipples with a pop, and stored the visual of your skin glistening with his saliva for later. He basked in your praise and pushed himself down, knowing exactly what he wanted to do next.

“Yes? You want it, kitten? Say you do. Please. I need you to say it.” His voice groggy, laced with yearning so tangible it made your body shiver.

“Yes. Yes, I do. Please, Sy. I waited so long for you.” Your words made his head spin, a smile spreading on his lips not flirtatious at all, just pure joy and contentment. He kissed your stomach and his hands once again swiped through your whole body. He raised on his forearms and caged your head between his arms, and then pressed a long, deep kiss on your mouth which quickly turned into another wave of heavy kisses. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

He was ravenous.

“I need to prepare you first, sweetie.” He said to your mouth, his words immediately swallowed by your perfect lips. You whimpered and his grip on your arm tightened involuntarily, his hand playing with your hair. “I need to take my time with you, otherwise I won’t be able to fit. You’re so tiny it scares me.” You nodded into the kiss and he smiled at you gently, and after pressing a kiss to your forehead, he went down.

And when he finally widened your legs, his mouth was on you instantly, making you moan, your legs clasping on his head reflexively. He grunted into your core, licking and sucking skillfully, guided entirely by pure need and his own instincts.

“You taste so sweet.” It wasn’t long before your legs were trembling and his fingers joined his mouth in an attempt to open you up a little more, to prepare you for what’s to come. “You’re dripping because of me.” He chuckled softly but deeply, chest filled with pride, and he licked your core once again, sucking at the sensitive bud. What he didn’t expect was when he managed to fit one finger inside you, angling it upwards, your back suddenly raised from the bed, hands reaching to his chest, delicately pushing him away. A drowned-out cry escaped your lips, the wetness between your tights increased, your plushy walls fluttered around his finger.

He made you come, and he instantly got addicted to it.

“Yes. Yes. Just like that, beautiful—Fuck.” With a swear word on his lips he wasted no time in slurping up your spent, his fingers from one, going up to two, then three. And when the only thing he could hear were your moans and whimpers, the taste of you imprinted on his tongue, the slide of his fingers smooth and slick—he realized that you were ready for him.

He slowly withdrew from your pussy, pressing one last lingering kiss to your clit. As his fingers slipped out of you, he finally let himself to catch more than a glimpse of your face.

And it shattered him, how utterly ruined you looked. All flushed and heaving, skin glistening with sweat, eyes shining, filled with unshed tears.

He did that to you, and he couldn’t be more proud of himself. He licked his fingers clean, savoring your taste, then he pulled you into an embrace, his arms wrapping around your whole body. Your head dropped on his bicep; your breath labored.

“You okay, kitten?” He asked gently, ignoring his painful erection, still stranded in the stiff fabric of his pants. His head pressed to your neck, and he inhaled the scent, licking off the droplets of sweat in the process. He couldn’t get enough.

“Yes. More than okay.” You answered, and he felt your hand wandering, trying to unbuckle his belt. His chest squeezed. “Need you now. Please, Sylus…”

“You don’t have to beg. I’ll gladly give you my everything. All of me.” His hands left your body for a moment, swiftly taking off his pants, his mouth now kissing your cheeks and nose.

“I want to taste you, too.” You whispered to him shyly, and he grunted, closing his eyes, begging every deity to give him more patience. How he would love for your little mouth to envelop him, but he knew that the sight alone would be enough to make him undone.

“Next time, okay, sweetie? I cannot wait to be inside you.” You giggled and nodded, pressing a kiss to his nose, stroking his hair gently.

He shivered and hissed when he took off his underwear, letting himself out in the open. He was so hard it hurt, his hand going up and down his erection in an attempt to reduce the tension, even though he knew that the only one who could truly satisfy him was you.

“Oh my god.” He heard your gasp, and noticed that you were looking at him, his body fully exposed, his cock heavy in his hand. “Sylus— Sy, it won’t fit. There’s no way that—” He silenced you with a kiss, and swiped his hand through your core, gathering the slick and spreading it on his member. The smooth glide felt so good he lost himself in the feeling for a second, his tongue licking into your mouth, swallowing your gasps.

“Shhh, I made sure to prepare you as well as I could. And I won’t hurt you, you said so yourself.” He said the last sentence into your lips, once again pressing a long kiss there. Then he kissed your cheek, and breathed hard against your neck, his one hand wrapped around your waist, holding you closer to him, and the other stroked his cock, guiding it to your entrance. When the tip touched you, he gritted his teeth and you gasped, the first contact electric. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers playing nervously with the hair at his nape.

He breathed heavily; the tip of his cock aligned perfectly with your entrance. “You can take it; you were made for me. I will make it fit.” He let go of your waist and grabbed one of your hands in his, kissing your knuckles and smiling gently at you, the anticipation making his body shake. “Just relax for me, will you? Can you do that, kitten?” You nodded and exhaled slowly, some tension getting out of your body. He pressed one last kiss to your forehead and intertwined your fingers with his.

“Close your eyes. I want you to feel me.”

“No. I need to see you, Sy. Don’t make me look away.” He chuckled and pressed his forehead against yours in a silent acceptance. He never wanted to take his eyes away from you too, your desires matching perfectly.

You were his soulmate, after all.

He pressed his erection to your opening and started to slip in, gently, unhurriedly, despite the desire to take you in one thrust of his hips. You opened your mouth in a painful moan, squeezing his hand, panic visible in your eyes. He hated that he was bringing you pain, but knew that it was inevitable, he saw how wide he was stretching you out. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Easy. You’re doing so good…” He breathed out, his hand leaving his cock to hold your hip, the other going up and down your body in a comforting caress. “Taking me so well...” His voice hoarse, sweat dripping from his forehead from the strain of keeping himself under control. He managed to put the tip in, your pussy squeezing him, your heat making him shiver, the sensation the most pleasurable he ever felt. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to calm himself down.

“It hurts, it really—it really hurts.” You whispered and he grunted, feeling you squeeze him harder, his length sliding into you deeper. He opened his eyes and lowered his body to get closer to your face, and placed a kiss between your eyebrows.

“I know, love. If you want to me stop—” He couldn’t recognize his voice anymore.

“No. Never. Please.” You kissed his brow, and send him a small smile. “I—I can take it. I was made for you, yeah?”

He huffed out a laugh, a whimper finding a way out at the same time.

“You were. Mmhm. Good.” He slipped in further, his mouth opening wider. “Good girl. Just a little more.” And before he managed to stop the shivering of his body, he burrowed himself in your tight heat almost to the brim. You were not able to take all of him in yet, but it was nearly a perfect fit, the sight of you wrapped around him made him see red, a low moan slipping out of him, your whimpers the most magnificent tune he ever heard.

“I’m going to move now.” He said and you moaned, your head nodding frantically.

He started thrusting inside you, and he felt as if fireworks exploded inside him, the desire burning brightly, need finally calming down, his mind completely at ease. Your moans, whimpers, cute little “ah,ah,ah’s” making his whole body shiver, a smile finding its way onto his swollen lips. You felt so good below him, your warmth enveloping him fully, and he started to question if he truly was worthy of such a blessing.

He didn’t care anymore. He had you, you wanted him and that was all that mattered now.

“You’re so. fucking. tight. God.” He started moving faster to the accompaniment of your small encouragements, his hand holding onto yours. And when your legs wrapped around his hips, bringing him closer to you, he was gone.

He grabbed your waist and lifted up your butt, the pace and force of his thrusts intensifying, his grunts leaving his mouth freely, silent praises slipping from his lips every now and then. He couldn’t stop now. Didn’t want to stop.

“I want—I want to stay inside you forever. I feel—Ah—Mm—like I’m melting.” He moaned and you felt his mouth on your body, kissing every patch of skin he was able to reach. You kept breathing out soft, quiet moans, tears filling your vision. “So cute.”

You felt so good, the stretch now pleasurable, your body accepting him fully, every thrust welcome, each one anticipated.

And he could see that so clearly on your face, his mind calming, knowing that he was able to bring you pleasure. It made him feel better too, your lovely expressions making his blood pump faster, his hips thrust deeper, just to see and hear more tokens of your delight. He was addicted to you and your reactions, to the way you sang his name, the way your skin tasted and eyes glistened every time he managed to catch eye contact.

Time quickly went by when you were losing yourselves in each other. The positions changed constantly, Sylus looking for and finding new ways to tip you over the edge, making sure you were completely satisfied. You encouraged him to leave some marks on you, and you made sure to repay the sentiment, scratching his back with your nails, and pressing hickies on his chest—he already wished for the marks to stay there forever, and you assured him that you’ll stay instead, making him jump on you once again, burying his head in your shoulder.

“Say my name, kitten. Keep—Keep saying my name.” He grunted, his hips unrelenting, your bodies soaked, your own so tired that he had to hold it in his arm for you to not slip off the bed. He kept thrusting inside you from behind, his lips pressing gentle kisses on your neck and shoulder, his movements deep and sensual, pleasure overwhelming. You granted his wish, your voice hoarse and quiet.

You were going at it for hours now, yet he still hasn’t come.

Not because he couldn’t, but because every time he was close, he was slipping out of you, his eyes squeezing shut, a hand gripping himself at the base.

He didn’t want the night to end, refused to let you go, savored the feeling of being buried deep inside you, not knowing where you ended and he began.

“Sy—Mmm—Sylus—Ah.” The words failed you, your mind filled only with pleasure and thoughts of him. You were so tired and yet he made you feel so good you wanted to stay in his arms forever. “The—Ah—The sun is rising.”

He nuzzled into your cheek, his thrusts slowing down, quiet grunts leaving his lips. He sounded wrecked.

“I know, love. You look so wonderful in this light.” He kissed your cheek and glued himself off of you, leaving your body cold and shivering. In the next second, he manhandled you onto your back again, facing him. Your hands immediately flew to cover your face, fearing how completely ruined you must have looked after so much time making love and so many orgasms ripped out of you.

“No—Mmh—Don’t hide yourself from me.” He grunted, and took your hands in his gently, revealing the beautiful mess he managed to make of you. Your face covered in tears, cheeks flushed and lips so swollen it only made him want to kiss them some more. So he did. “Never hide yourself from me, dove. Hold me.” He kissed the palms of your hands and put them on his neck, your arms going to hold him closer. He huffed out a weak laugh, his thrusts not stopping even for a second. You felt his huge hands caressing your thighs and you moaned softly. “God, I’m sorry, kitten, I just can’t stop—I—”

“It’s okay, S—Sylus. Ah—I won’t run away.” You pulled his head closer and kissed his lips softly. His hands encircled your waist, drawing your body closer to him, the hair on his forehead brushing against your chest. Your eyes met his and he seemed to calm slightly, your gaze soothing the flame inside him.

“I love you. I—” You suddenly confessed, a single tear slipping down your cheek. His breath faltered, ruby eyes widening, your words shaking his world completely. “I love you, Sylus. So much. I love you so intensely it scares me, I—Ah—” A moan was ripped from you when he suddenly picked up the pace, the sweat from his forehead landing between your breasts. Another happy tear slipped from your eye, and if you had enough energy to keep your eyes open, you’d see that he was teary-eyed too. His hands grabbed your head, turning it up so he could look straight into your eyes—his own burning with desire and unspoken devotion. He needed to hear you say the words once more, but before he could start pleading for it, you managed to read his mind.

“I love you, Sylus.”

And those words were what finally made him shatter.

He came, so violently he nearly blacked out, his whole body trembling, and movements faltering, his cock buried inside you the deepest he could go. He released grunt after grunt, his arms holding you tight to him, your soft sighs only seemed to prolong his fall. He nuzzled his face up against your neck, then cheek, his lips touching your skin, unable to press more kisses due to the uncontrollable moans coming out of his mouth.

“F-Fuck—” He managed to choke out and you tried to calm your heavy breathing, focused on his cum filling you up, so much that you could already feel it spilling out. You whined and brought your hands to his waist, holding him close, and you came one last time too, your pussy squeezing him even tighter, ripping a short cry out of him. Goosebumps spread around your body from the pleasure and you went pliant in his arms, letting your sore muscles finally rest against the soft sheets.

Sylus relaxed a few moments later, his sweaty body collapsing on top of you, mindful not to put his full weight on you. His hot, heavy breath still warmed your neck, your hearts beating rapidly against each other, showing no signs of calming anytime soon. He managed to turn onto his side, his arms still wrapped around you, taking your body with him.

You were held in a wet, yet warm embrace, his arms protecting you from the cold morning air, your bodies still connected. The silence that ascended upon you comfortable and desired after so much time of intense workout—both throats roughed up and in need of hydration.

“Sylus, I—” You started saying, your voice a rough whisper, your head raising to meet his gaze, surprised that his crimson eyes were already studying you. He put one of his hands on the back of your head, his fingers playing with your hair ever so gently.

His gaze so intense you started to turn your head away, but he gently brought it back to him. He didn’t have to open his mouth for you to understand what he was feeling—the emotion in his eyes unmistakable.

“I love you, too.” He breathed out, his hand going up to your cheek, stroking it with the back of his fingers. His hand was cold and served as a delightful compress for your burning face. “I love you more than any words could ever express.”

He reminded you of a statue under this warm, morning light, his body perfectly sculpted. The only source of color were his cheeks, blaring red, nearly matching the color of his sparkling eyes. His wet hair still bearing the paths carved by your fingers, his lips kissed and twitching, fighting off a smile, which threatened to form when he realized how intensely you were observing him.

“My home is your home, my heart is your heart. Every breath I’ve been taking ever since I met you had already been yours — the day you tell me to cease, I will gladly do so.” He continued, his breath slowly calming down, one of your hands going to stroke his chest.

“I will never tell you to cease, you little dramatic fool.” You answered playfully, blinking away your tears, your hand going to rest on his warm cheek, his face immediately nuzzling into your palm. “If anything, I would curse you to live forever. Soundly and happily, by my side.” A soft laugh came out of his lips; a start of a smile that overtook his entire face, lightening up his features, showing off his small sharp canines.

“By your side...” He repeated, his voice possessing a dream-like quality, a smirk still visible. He swiped his hand over your body: from your shoulder, through your waist, down to your hip, and then back up. His touch soothing as always. “A curse has never sounded so sweet, my little dove.” He closed his eyes, and a sigh escaped his lips. The happiness spread through his body so intensely, that he thought he was going to burst.

Live forever, by your side. There was no other place in the entire universe where he would rather be.

He felt you squirming, a crease appearing between your brows, your hand squeezing his bicep. He hissed, feeling you squeeze him down there too, his cock still buried deep inside you, your plush walls a place he never wanted to leave. However, he knew that after so much time and so many orgasms you needed a break, your body sensitive and in need of extensive pampering. Good thing he adored spoiling you with affection.

“I’m going to pull out now, okay sweetheart?” You nodded your head, a small smile on your lips. You were just too adorable. “And then I’ll put you in a warm bath, order your favorite meal and change the sheets. Any objections?”

“None at all.” He switched your position so that he was once again on top of you, and he gently pulled out, a grunt leaving his lips at the loss of the comfortable fit. You whimpered when his cum started flowing out of you freely, and he couldn’t look away, the sight making the desire in him burn once more. He stopped himself before he started showing the cum back inside you. “Will you join me in the bath too?” He looked at your face, covered in the warm sunlight, the sight making him breathless.

“I would love to, if that’s what you want.” He hugged you to himself one more time, his body covering yours completely, his face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. He grazed the delicate skin with his teeth, then pressed his lips to your pulse, his tongue picking out to lick at your salty skin. “I love you.” He whispered into your neck, basking in the feeling of your heartbeat beneath his lips. “I love you, Y/N. Thank you for showing me what love feels like. Thank you for accepting me.” His breath started going out labored, the intensity of the emotion too big for his body.

“Thank you, for letting me love you. You are the best thing that happened to me, Sylus. I hope you know that.” Your kiss to his temple and your hands caressing his back felt like a blessing, your bodies connected in a soul-crushing hug his own private oasis. Never in his life had he experienced such a moment of total tranquility; only you were capable of bringing him peace.

He never wanted to let you go, and he didn’t have to. No other thought filled him with so much joy. You were his, just as much as he was yours. An ideal exchange of souls.

“I do.” He breathed out, and looked into your loving eyes once again. You smiled at him, and he felt his breath being punched out of him, his ruby eyes fluttering. He shook his head and reciprocated the smile, which quickly turned into a full laugh, your bodies shaking, hearts beating in unison. “I truly do.”

Your lips found his in a kiss that tasted like a promise—of a hand to hold, body to warm up to, and a heart that beat for one another. In every life, every universe, and in every space and time—now, and forevermore.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡ bonus! ˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

“So, which one finally did it?” You asked him nonchalantly, when you were both freshly washed up, lying on the new, pleasurably chilly sheets, basking in the afternoon sunlight. Too exhausted to raise, too happy to fall asleep after the whole night of making love.

His head on your chest stirred slightly, a confusion slowly overtaking his features.

“Hmm?” He opened his eyes, but he didn’t find it in himself to raise. His arms holding your body close to his, tightening their hold, a signal he hoped would make you continue the caress of his back with your fingers.

Your skin bared a fragrance of his soap and his skin, and he felt drunk ever since he noticed it.

“The workout outfit a size too small? Or those jeans at the funfair?” You continued, and his mind started to connect the dots. His eyes widened. “I knew that I would be sticking my ass out a lot that day so I made sure they were extra tight.” He heard you giggle and raised his head immediately, his gaze falling on yours.

“You—”

“What? You were making me wait forever! And don’t get me wrong…” You cupped his cheek, and he was rendered speechless. The whole time he was fighting for his sanity, trying to wait for you, restraining himself from taking you on the nearest piece of furniture — You were riling him up on purpose? “I love that you are a gentleman, and the princess treatment is really nice too, but I just couldn’t wait to have you ravish me, you know? Your girl has needs.”

He was going completely insane. He let out a hearty laugh, and shook his head in disbelief. It seemed that he underestimated you again, forgot that your desires and needs matched his almost perfectly.

And he should’ve known that the workout clothes were a bit too revealing for your liking. Fuck, he should’ve known.

“And it seems my girl is a sly little vixen.” His voice laced with humor, a smile still visible, head impossibly light. He hummed, and kissed a smile off of your plump lips, then your neck, shoulders and chest. You started trembling, and the smile he sent you this time made him look as if he was a wolf studying his pray. You gulped audibly. “Well then, if you decided to manipulate me, then I think you are ready to suffer the consequences.” His kisses reached your breasts, and he took one perky nipple into his mouth, sucking passionately. His other hand grabbed at the other boob, kneading the flesh languidly.

“But it’s already bright outside, shouldn’t we—” A press of his finger on your lips hushed you, and his eyes met yours, his lips still circled around your delicate nipple. With a snap of his fingers the curtains covered the windows, cutting of the only source of light. Darkness enveloped you, making the press of his body on yours even more intimate. Your body was still on fire after the hours of tangling in sheets, every part of you sensitive and tingling under his skilled hands.

“Ah, ah. You’re trembling. Why is that, I wonder?” You heard his voice closer to your ear, and when your eyes got used to the darkness, you saw his eyes filled with mirth and something primal. His hands went slowly up your tights, their destination obvious. “I had no idea that my kitten was that starved. Now I can’t possibly leave her unsatisfied, can I?”

You felt his hands touch your warmest spot, and you let fireworks overtake you once more, your spine twisting to get closer to him. He tasted the skin on your chest again, and went down with his kisses, leaving a happy, wet trial in its wake. He raised suddenly, kissing you on the lips.

“And what about the zipper?” He asked absentmindedly into your lips, remembering the situation that nearly made him lose his mind couple of weeks ago.

“What zipper?” Your confusion truthful, your squeal loud when he suddenly plopped motionless on top of you, a sigh of exasperation leaving his mouth.

It seems that loving you was the beginning of his end, after all.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

thank you for your time! ♡ PLEASE let me know if you liked it, i would appreciate every single comment and engagement!!! i would be so happy to read your reactions (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

likes would be much appreciated ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

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#❀˖° mochi writes!#lads sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus x you #love and deepspace fic #lads smut #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace #lnds sylus #sylus smut #sylus fluff #sylus qin #sylus #love and deepspace smut #sylus love and deepspace smut #sylus x reader #lads #love and deepspace sylus fic

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thanatos-nightshade · 5 months ago

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Im feeling nostalgic so shout out to old friends. I think of you whenever i see nightwing or dick grayson or the flash or the green arrow. I think of you whenever i see cows or conchas. I think of you whenever i see sailor moon especially sailor jupiter and winx and dancing. I think of you when i think of LA. I think of you when i think of beaches and seagulls and fruit (though you hate it so). When people say we are made up of other people and the impacts others have on our lives i think of you and understand and embrace each and every tiny crater on the surface. I hope you never grow to hate these things because they will always remind me of you.

#t-n talks #personal #rambling #feeling sentimental #cant help it #i could list each and every memory i hold dear with them and these are only a few of the people who i knew for a certain part of my life #a part which was not very long but definitely impacted me #i saw your username pop up the other day you were playing a game and i am so scared to reach out to you #what if theyve moved on what if they only remember my flaws all the bad memories what if for them the good never outweighed the bad #what if they think of me the same way though #do they wish me well do they miss me do they remember me or am i just a username to which they hold no meaning #in which attention drawn just confuses them before they leave #aaaauugghhhhh #my brain is sitting in a juice which is bittersweet and beautiful #i need to stop typing

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hawkesque · 1 year ago

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still reading through my hainish cycle collection, and i gotta say, vaster than empires and more slow is certainly an interesting addition. i think it's (so far) the single work of hers i've read that most represents the limitations and biases inherent to when she was writing, and herself as a writer -- positioning all the characters as essentially societal rejects makes it clear what her society did not value and had biases against. this isn't to say i did not enjoy it (honestly, my favorite of the short stories so far), but i could've done without the ableism and racism

#honestly ableism is the problem ive had most with her works so far #especially in the dispossessed -- we get passing mentions of 'Asylums' for (my memory is already slipping here forgive me)#iirc. people who commit crime and those who refuse to work ever?#i really wanted to know what an anarchic society does with the physically & mentally disabled among them but thats the most mention we get #:(#still really enjoyed both the dispossessed and vaster than empires though. like ironically my 2 favorites that were new to me #alas. the flaws #good thing i consume flawed media safely often and extremely well #txt #the hainish cycle #ursula k. le guin #vaster than empires and more slow

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swordgrace · 1 month ago

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❝ 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞 𝐈 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫. ❞

┊ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: forced into attending a gala event, you go to john for help with your dress. things turn incredibly heated.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: john walker x fem!reader (requested).

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.4K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (mdni), established relationship, talk of insecurities, insane levels of yearning, rougher john, bathroom sex (on the counter), groping, heavy kissing, brief handjob, dirty talk, john walker’s praise kink, brief fingering, mutual orgasm. cute ending.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: he’s my favorite part of the thunderbolts — yep, I said it !! my yearning levels are off the charts for him. thank you guys so much for your continued support! 🫶 I love writing for him sm !!

The last time John Walker wore a suit was at his wedding — five years ago, in a Georgian chapel where he’d grown up, nothing lavish. It was traditional, smaller, friends from high school, his family, Lemar’s family.

Part of him had detached himself from those memories, as if it were a different him that’d lived through it all.

Shame still festered, an ever-looming shadow, haunting his steps. There were some past mistakes that he would never be able to make amends for, but he was trying, making a valiant effort to forge something new.

John was a flawed man, an imperfect soldier trying to pick up the pieces, make something of himself again. Being an Avenger was his step forward in the right direction, wanting to help people again, a hero.

Publicity and being in the spotlight wasn’t a new concept for John, whose brief stint as Captain America was packed with shaking hands, playing the part, smiling for the camera.

When Valentina had pitched a charity gala to draw attention to the new Avengers, it was mandatory for everyone on the team to be in-attendance, with Bob as the singular exception. There were still reservations about him being exposed to any media attention.

Admittedly, the entire team still had reservations about Valentina altogether, a reluctance to work for her. He couldn’t blame anyone — she’d tried to kill them, created a superhuman, participated in an endless string of illicit activities.

Though, they’d found ways to exploit her generosity when it came to the Avengers ordeal. He’d gotten the well-equipped training room he’d asked for, a new suit, and a new shield, currently being constructed behind the scenes.

He told himself to enjoy tonight — allow himself to feel a sense of normalcy, fraternize with wide-eyed senators, repair what threadbare reputation he already had.

In the mirror, John was posturing, adjusting his cufflinks, pushing strands of blonde away from his temples. He was still uncertain about whether or not this was a good idea — losing the role of Captain America still stung.

He wanted to use this new opportunity to be himself, no Captain America, no U.S. Agent — just John Walker, former Army captain, now an Avenger.

Crisp, light linen of a pressed dress shirt clung to his musculature, dark blazer strung over the bathroom door. A line of pearlescent buttons were strung through the center, formal attire perfectly tailored to his physique.

It felt strange, standing in a suit jacket instead of kevlar and body armor; uncomfortable, even. Smoothing a hand over the ivory material, his brows pinched together, jaw twitching in mild annoyance.

Tugging at his collar, John sighed, an indignant huff escaping him as he heard a knock at his door. “Just a minute.” He called, still attempting to fidget with certain elements of his suit.

“It’s me.”

Timid, the softer cadence of your voice carried, ripping him from his thoughts, as if he’d been shoved off-balance. He was softer for you, towards you — the team noticed, everyone noticed.

Cocksure arrogance had bled away to something sweeter, vulnerable; John was sluggish to trust, but you’d shattered that barrier with ease. He had you to thank for growing, for beginning to heal from everything else.

With a soft stirring in his throat, John stopped over-analyzing his outfit, dress shoes polished, slacks ironed and without a single wrinkle. It was required of him to steam his dress uniform before special events back in the Army.

Stepping toward the door, John hits the panel, tinted windowpane sliding open with a soft hiss. Cerulean hues search until they find you, abashed and hunched in on yourself as if you’re attempting to conceal something.

Fashion is a foe, it isn’t your forte; Yelena had attempted to assist to the best of her ability, but even then, you felt fumbling and awkward.

The dress you’re wearing is formal, pressed silk the shade of a graying sky, nothing exorbitantly vibrant. It’s pretty, you think you feel pretty, but the stilettos do nothing except make you feel as if you’re walking on nails.

Though, you’re having too many issues with the zipper, which seems stuck toward the small of your back, no budging in sight. A light layer of cosmetics compliments your features, tresses modestly styled — you clean up nicely.

Too nicely; John’s jaw is unhinged, agape with a thinly-veiled awe as he swallows, words turning to ash within his throat. Unable to tear his gaze away, his appraisal is soft, burning with affection as he steps forward.

“You look …” John begins, cadence disarmingly gentle, as if he’s speaking to a startled doe. You drive him crazy, and that’s not something anyone can do; you’re drop-dead gorgeous.

“Awful?” Interjecting, your voice teems with underlying insecurities, brimming with a veiled frustration that laces into your physicality. You seem somewhat upset, as if something else is bothering you.

With a scoff, John’s lip curls in disdain, preparing to shoot your self-deprecation down in one clean swipe. “Stop it,” He warns, stern and sharp as he moves aside, letting you come in. “We’re not arguing about this.”

Admittedly, you’re thankful that John is quick to destroy your nervousness, shoving it aside as if it was an insignificant thing. “I just … This doesn’t feel right at all. This party, the publicity, this dress won’t zip up, either —”

John stops you, large palm splaying over the small of your back, dragging you against the warmth of his musculature. “You’re nervous,” He deadpans, as if he’s solved the puzzle. “Relax, honey.”

That damned nickname; it sometimes slips out in sweeter, vulnerable moments, often in the comfort of your own rooms. It’s only spilled from his mouth in front of the team on one occasion, in the heat of a mission, but it’d been brushed off as condescension.

“You’re calm about this.” It’s an observation — a blatant one, but he doesn’t seem nearly as perturbed about this as you are. For as mouthy and smug as John could be, he wasn’t outwardly ruffled by new situations.

“It’s a charity event,” John shrugged, thumbs stroking comforting circles over your spine, attempting to quell your tangle of nerves. He can taste your anxiety, see it in your pupils. “We’re there to shake hands and get funding.”

“You’ve done this before,” Mellowing, a flicker of realization crosses your features, a sense of understanding. “I know that I shouldn’t be nervous, but I’m still getting used to the spotlight.”

John knows plenty, having done news interviews as Captain America, public speaking, countless events where he was the center of attention. Back then, he thrived as best as he could — now, the notion seemed incredibly dull.

Shaking hands and throwing on a facade wasn’t who he wanted to be anymore, but if it meant funding and upgrades, he was willing to play nice. If it weren’t for the Avengers, he might’ve been on the run, or sitting in a cold cell somewhere.

“Yeah,” He gruffs, unwilling to cage himself into a reminder of his past. John’s tongue darts to wet his lower lip, palm still flush to your back as he wordlessly guides you towards his bathroom. “We’ll stay together.”

His assurances are gentler than you expected, and you know John’s never been the most tactful with words. Through action alone, through touch, he conveys a sense of understanding, of your anxiousness.

Standing before the mirror, John appraises you again, thinly-veiled affection oozing through his gaze, incendiary. You’re so beautiful that he feels entirely unworthy, and he knows just how lucky he is to have you.

There’s still an hour before you’re set to leave, limousine service ordered by Valentina herself. Alexei had offered to drive the team, but there was strong pushback from her end.

Hands find the zipper seated at the base of your spine, tugged up only an inch or two. “Need some help?” John inquires, even though he already knows the answer. Sometimes, he likes hearing you say it; that you need him.

“If you don’t mind,” Flustered, you feel inept, an Avenger who can’t zip up her own dress. Though, part of you had deliberately ensured that John assisted you in some capacity, just to be close to him. “Thank you.”

With a brief nod, he steps forward, towering behind you, chest briefly ghosting over your back, tantalizing. Doggedly, John’s calloused digits snare around the zipper, giving it a tug to set it straight.

It’s eerily quiet, save for his heavier exhales and your excitable tremor, catching him staring at you through the mirror. Warmth slithers over the nape of your neck, creeping over your spine like ivy upon a column of stone.

A brief chuckle jostles his chest, as if he’s thought of something humorous without letting you in on it. Perplexed, your gaze flutters, meeting his own through the mirror. “What’s wrong? Is it still stuck?” You sigh, defeated.

“No,” Through a low hum, John plants a slow, careful kiss to the nape of your neck. “I’m lucky, that’s all.” It’s all he really needs to say, and you preen beneath his words. Despite the simplicity, there’s a depth conveyed to you, a mutual understanding.

Fire stirs within your belly, mere embers brought to life by soft-spoken murmurs. His hands still over the zipper of your dress, calloused thumb circling over the bare flesh of your spine, left exposed by the gap in your gown.

Warm breath plumes over your shoulders, licking across the back of your neck. A hush falls between, a comfortable one, crackling with splinters of tension that threaten to expand, grow.

John’s stare is exceedingly soft, something reserved for you, blonde lashes kissing the faint freckles beneath his eyes. There’s something starving within him, a hunger revealing.

Pale-blue fabric curls around your form, accentuating your curves, as if you’re part of the sky. A hitch forms within your throat, feeling his hands steady over the swell of your hips, fingers clamping down.

Rough lips pepper themselves to the hollow between your throat and shoulder, placing a careful string of kisses along your flesh. A sharp, poignant exhale comes rushing from your lungs, spine shivering with exhilaration.

“Stop looking at me like that, John.” Through a sheepish murmur, you shrink beneath his ogling, as if it might burn a hole right through you.

Feigning innocence, he laughs; dry, but it’s genuine. Pressing another kiss to your shoulder, your pulse quickens, climbing as he shrugs. “Like what?” He inquires, body exuding ripples of heat.

“Like you’re starting something,” It’s a threadbare warning, but he responds by squeezing your hips, chest shaking with a light scoff. “Something that you won’t finish before …”

“I’ll finish it, if that’s what you want.” Placating, John smooths a kiss over your jaw, thick shadow of a beard prickling your flesh. It sends shivers down your spine, exhilaration mounting into a knot of excitement.

He’d made your heart lurch, bones already molten with warmth, thighs shifting together beneath your dress. There’s time to spare before the gala, and your concern for your garments diminishes entirely.

His mouth tempts you, his eyes — John stares at you as if you’re the center of his universe, blonde brows creased together, lip curled in concentration. Maneuvering within the sliver of space, you turn, chest flush to his own.

“You’re so handsome,” Swooning, there’s stars in your eyes as you tilt forward, palms flattening over his chest, fingertips tracing idle patterns into his shirt. “So perfect like this.”

Bristling beneath your praise, John huffs, attempting to cling to some fraction of restraint. It’s thin, threatening to snap into two as he pulls you in, mouth locking with yours.

From the first scrape of lips, the fire festers, raging into something uncontrollable as he cages you in against the countertop, hungry. Fingers begin to curl into his chest, a moan bubbling from your mouth as he surges forward.

“Jesus,” He whispers into your mouth, reverent, hands molded to your curves as he picks you up with ease, placing you on the solid granite. Bullying between your legs, he’s eager, cock twitching to life within his pants. “You’re so beautiful.”

Behind closed doors, the bravado and swagger dissipate, leaving only the rawness of John at his core; in his essence, he’s good. There’s a disarming gentleness to each ministration, every look one of a veiled affection.

Silk rides up along your thighs, your dress beginning to bunch and pool around your hips. A sigh feathers from your lips, hands climbing toward the nape of his neck, toying with the blonde hair there.

Lips clamor for one another, ceaseless, dragging into another kiss and then again, again; your heart threatens to burst from your chest. He holds you steady, hips rutting into yours until you feel something firm.

His scruffy countenance melds with yours, bleeding heat, kissing you with enough vigor that it prompts you to hold onto him. Your heart gallops, races — it’s quick and erratic, beating in your ears.

It doesn’t take much for him, kiss stuttering as a low grunt rips through his diaphragm. Arousal sits heavy in the pit of his abdomen, a taut coil charged with heat, preparing to loose as he rocks into you.

Rough, careworn hands begin to caress beneath your dress, digits snaring into the soft cotton of your panties. There’s a brief exchange of glances, his jaw twitching, lips agape as he looks to you for consent. “Yeah?” He gruffs, waiting.

With an enthusiastic nod, you’re squirming with an unbridled want, feeling his hands drag your underwear down, lower, until they’re dangling from your ankles. Kicking them to the floor, your hands go clawing at his belt.

One hand grips the granite countertop, and with enough flexing, leaves behind a faultline fracture that snakes through stone. Muscles pull taut in his forearms, knuckles bruised, his flesh rougher, akin to leather.

Urging him in for another kiss, you’re lost within the heated labyrinth of his lips, savoring that rugged scratch of his beard. A low moan rouses within your chest, caught between your mouths.

He’s wedged between your legs, other palm holding steadfastly to your haunch, fingertips pressing into pliant flesh. As his belt clatters and loosens, John feels your hand, cold as it wraps around his cock.

A pleading groan splits his diaphragm, hot and disheveled beside your ear as his hips absently jolt forward. Your hand is like silk, tense against his length as you begin to stroke in easy, rhythmic flicks of your wrist.

“Christ,” John pants, brows pinched together, countenance contorted into an expression of sheer bliss. A thrilled gasp leaves you when he urges into you again, oozing heat against your palm. “S’good, good.” He grunts, groping at your thigh.

“I want you,” You exhale, your saccharine sigh wafting over his features, dragging him in with your magnetizing pull. Even then, you’re still touching him, his cock aching within your grasp. “God, John — I need you.”

Through the strained pitch of your voice, he’s more than eager to comply, mouth dropping to your throat, kisses wanton and thirsty. He plants a string of greedy kisses there, like hot brands to your skin.

If it weren’t for the gala, he would’ve marked you a time or two, but it was best to avoid any sharp questioning from the team.

However, it doesn’t stop him from scraping his teeth over the sensitive flesh of your neck, feeling you shiver against him. Arousal coalesces between your thighs, slick and warm, making you squirm atop the slab of granite.

Bodies close any sliver of space, friction taking root, an explosion of heat festering between. John’s mouth climbs over your throat, nipping at your jugular, catching the moan that floats from your lips.

Tension unfurls from his muscles, now released into this, into being intimate. He withdraws, lips ghosting over yours, feeling you collide into the kiss with a searing passion.

One hand snakes from your thigh to the heat between, cerulean hues flickering to gauge your reaction. A soft gasp tumbles from your mouth, and you have the audacity to give him that doe-eyed stare, his heart stuttering.

Finding your slit, John drags two digits over your core, biting back a haughty smirk, forehead dipping to flush against yours. “Figured as much,” He teases, voice a low husk beside your ear. “Is that for me?” He murmurs.

Flustered, you want to rip the cheeky remark right from his mouth, growing unbearably warm beneath his gaze. “Yeah,” You huff, smothering a whine when his fingers graze over your cunt, pushing past your folds. “John, please.”

He’s often one to tease you a little if he can, but time is running short and he’s just as eager, if not more, than you are.

John nods knowingly, rucking your dress up around your hips, slotting you closer, until his hips brush yours. Slipping your hand from his pants, there’s a shuffle of fabric, intermingled with sharp inhales, tremulous sighs.

Loosely hitching one leg around his hips, you’re bracing for the pressure, watching as he guides his cock to your cunt. “Still with me?” He mumbles, planting a kiss to your jaw.

“Mm-hm,” Through a gentle hum, he’s parting your legs, arms flexing as he maneuvers you as he sees fit. The flushed tip of his cock splits your folds, dragging through a time or two. “Please, I need you.”

Unable to suppress a groan, he’s fighting against baser instincts, against the primal urge clawing inside of him. “Say it again.” He grunts, cock prodding against the warmth of your cunt, preparing to push past.

“Need you,” With urgency this time, you reached for his biceps, thick and firm beneath your palms, nails scratching over his dress shirt. Hot, labored sighs drift between one another, wanton; you’re desperate for him. “John, please.” You plead, not above begging.

Christ, he needs you, too — craves you more than anything else, cerulean hues glistening with a thinly-veiled ardor. Locking you in against him, he groans, mouth melding with yours, pulling another grunt from his sternum.

“You’re my girl,” John murmurs, subdued and husky, scratching an itch in your brain. Slowly, you plant a kiss against the scruff of his jaw, listening to his excitable sighs. “Good?”

Attentive, he ensures that you’re prepared before taking him, writhing as his cock pushes incessantly against your cunt. “Good.” Conceding, your hips lurch forward, creating a spark of tension.

His hips slowly urge forward, flushed head of his cock pushing into you with mild resistance. Disarmingly gentle, John doesn’t move quickly or rough, burying his way into you with sluggish rolls of his body.

An entangled cry escapes you, followed by a choked sob that catches in your throat. His own sounds are gruff, rugged; his face is flush to yours, brows furrowed in concentration.

He knows he’s going to be thinking about this for the rest of the night — your body against his, your dress ruffled around your hips, the gleam in your eyes. John continues, hand strangling the granite countertop.

“You feel so perfect,” Feeding into his deep-seated desire for praise, you notice the tick in his jaw, the way he manhandles your leg. “So handsome like this, John.” You know exactly what you’re doing, and it induces some frenzy within him.

John’s resolve is crumbling, foundation swept away in the wake of your affections, and your wanton moan doesn’t make anything easier. “Jesus,” He grits, jaw clenched, body coiled around you. “You’re tight.”

A string of hoarse expletives flutter from his mouth, barely above a whisper, setting your bones ablaze as he pulls back and pushes forward.

A soft whimper escaped you, feeling yourself clench around him out of sheer want. His groan vexed you, your fingertips cupping the nape of his neck. Carding through blonde tresses, you tug, coaxing him in for a messy kiss.

It’s all teeth, tongue, affection — he briefly bites at your bottom lip, savoring the sharp inhale you give him, leg snug around his hips.

His pace was agonizingly sluggish at first, drawing out each thrust in an effort to let you grow accustomed. Hot sighs of passion fluttered between the both of you, lips brushing over one another as he rolled his hips forward.

Your heart pounded within your ribcage, so powerful that you thought it might burst through. “God, you’re mine.” He gruffed, cadence hoarse, permeated with possessiveness.

John’s movements had started slow before turning into calculated thrusts, sharp and precise, cock buried deep into your cunt. There’s a pattern to it, an erratic rhythm, born of a mutual desperation that you feed from.

He began to thrust into you, hunching in and over, stabilizing himself with one palm flat atop the counter. Stone splintered and groaned beneath, malleable in the wake of John’s inhuman strength.

Your head spun, clouded by desire as your paramour ravished you in the way that you deserved. “M’yours, John.” With a keening moan, your hips rolled forward, pulling a grunt from his throat.

His countenance echoed your sentiments, shadowed with the haze of want, a carnality that clawed at your being. You let your forehead press to his, brows screwed together in a state of bliss, grasping at his tresses.

“Drivin’ me crazy.” He drawls, visage contorting into a look of pleasure, head dropping toward the hollow between your throat and shoulder. His beard scratches ragged over your flesh, sending a shudder through your spine.

As he moves forward, his cock beginning to sheathe itself fully within your cunt, your nails dig crescents into the nape of his neck, back arching forward.

It’s a push-and-pull, euphoric as you cling to him like a drowning woman, unbridled noises escaping you in droves.

With each sluggish rut of his hips, you feel everything, his cock rocking into you with a rhythm that only seems to climb higher, higher still. He’s a little rougher, passionate; it makes you want him even more.

Rooted within you, John’s hips withdraw, enough to rut forward with a sense of urgency, filling you to the brim with his cock. Lewd, crass noises reverberated in the haze of heat that enveloped you, his thrusts gathering in intensity.

“Fu— John, please,” Through a strangled whine, you roll your hips again, friction blossoming between bodies, eliciting a groan from him. Arousal mounts, wanton, and you’re eager for a release. “Please.”

A low whimper left you as he snapped forward, letting passion and want pour into each ministration, cock sheathing itself inside of your aching cunt. John does it again, again, again — a pattern of rhythmic thrusts that jostle your body.

He’s getting close, perspiration building along his brow, hands moving to hold you close, cage you in against his musculature. “Jesus, you’re perfect.” John growls, the noise making you shiver, cunt pulsing around his length.

“Touch me,” You plead, noticing the look he gives you, cerulean hues boring into you. John doesn’t grouse nor protest, head jostling in a brief nod as one hand snakes to the heat between your legs. “Th—There, shit.”

Seeking your clit like a missile, his thumb presses over the clutch of nerves, circling over it, watching as you writhe from the contact. He huffs a breathy scoff, lips smoothing over your jaw, hips rutting into you with a fervor.

Each snap of his hips are drawn-out, deliberate; it is a lascivious torture that torments the both of you, cunt tightening pathetically around his length.

“That’s it,” John grunts, the husky cadence of his voice sending you into some frenzy. Molten heat pools between your thighs, legs rattling like leaves as you hold onto him. “That’s my girl.”

Between the careful caresses over your clit and his cock, still pounding away at you, the amalgamation of sensations is nearly overwhelming. You’re pushed into your release, falling over the precipice, body a furnace of bliss.

It’s white-hot and feverish, as if you’ve been washed in fire, all-consuming. He’s touching you still, grinding over your clit, panting beside your ear as if he’s running a marathon.

Grunts continued to spill beside your ear as he reached his peak, but you were already there. It was a perfect storm of sensations, ones that made you delirious with desire, sobbing with ecstasy.

A coil of heat began to unfurl within the both of you, bodies constantly shifting against the other, an amalgamation of friction.

John fucked you through your release, cock steadily rutting into your cunt, pressing a messy kiss against your mouth. He’s breathing fire, lungs burning, stinging in the wake of your shared orgasm.

He cums inside of you, holding steadfastly to you like a vice, fingers groping at the swell of your hips, the other recoiling from between your thighs. Everything is warm, the room blanketed in a haze of heat that settles in the afterglow.

Each sigh feels ragged, blistering through your chest, foreheads flush together as he peppers a string of kisses over your temples. “How am I supposed to get through the gala now?” You mumble, breathless.

John laughs; a genuine chuckle, something rarely heard, lacking the typical sardonicism. “Should’ve thought this through,” He remarks, though it applies to him, too. He’s visibly disheveled, blonde tresses mussed. “Jesus.”

He doesn’t withdraw immediately, getting a good look at you, beautiful beyond compare. You’re quick to press a kiss over his scruffy jaw, stringing along until you reach the corner of his mouth.

“Sorry about your hair,” Licking your fingertips, you attempt to smooth his tresses back into place, but it’s noticeably shoddy. “You still look really handsome.” You smile, and he’s grinning, catching a flash of pearlescent teeth.

There’s a knock at his door — sharp, hurried.

“We have to leave in ten minutes! Please make yourselves presentable, at the very least.” It’s Ava, whose tone is already thick with amusement, and you swear you can hear Yelena’s laughter somewhere beyond the door.

Caught, John groans, visage contorting slightly as he pulls out of you, but he’s just as quick to get a wet towel and help clean you up. “Next time, we’ll do this a couple hours before.” He murmurs, gracing your shoulder with a kiss.

Smitten, the both of you are quick to clean yourselves up, look presentable again. He finally zipped up your dress, suit jacket tugged on over his broad shoulders, crimson dissipating from his features.

As you’re making for the door, his hand smoothing over the small of your back, you stop, peering up at him with an affectionate smile. “Was it worth it?”

John kisses your brow without a lick of hesitation, a glimmer within his eyes before he smirks. He answers you, no stammer or reluctance to his response.

“Yes.”

#mcu #thunderbolts #thunderbolts*#marvel #john walker x reader #john walker x you #john walker x y/n #us agent x reader #john walker #thunderbolts x reader #thunderbolts x you #john walker smut #john walker fanfic #marvel x reader #marvel smut #marvel fanfic #thunderbolts smut #wyatt russell

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morning-fragility · 4 months ago

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What remains of you and me

Grian is a geologist helping out his archeologist friends for a season; Scar is an artist and landscape designer, who joined the archeological expedition as a volunteer to unwind and paint some local views.

Or, a (soulmates) reincarnation AU

A bit more context:

A group of archeologists, geologists and a couple of volunteers are excavating what used to be a small town. The longer they spend on the sight, however, the more oddly familiar everything seems to some of them; it's almost like some people know exactly what they're looking for, what it looked like originally and where to find it. They don't need this deja vu to tell something tragic caused the end of this settlement, though: with the remains of soot and ash, things scattered and some skeletons without a sight of proper burials, it's pretty obvious.

All lifers are there, of course, but only the winners become haunted; the earlier was the win canonicaly, the sooner they get affected by the visions/hallucinations on sight.

Sometimes they have dreams of this place many centuries ago, bustling with life, a blurry shadow of unknown threat looming over it. Sometimes they see eachother, in those dreams. And sometimes they'd swear these are not dreams, admitting reluctantly they hear distant voices speaking in a language none of them speaks, laughing, screaming, calling out to them. Sometimes it feels personal. Sometimes they look at eachother silently and mourn something that happened so long ago none of them can remember (and probably wouldn't want to).

Grian gets affected first and it hits him like a truck. Scar starts seeing/hearing things much later, already assuming something's up, judging by how the rest of the winners act and the way Grian looks at him when he thinks Scar's not noticing.

They dig out their own bones and attempt to discover their past lives, together.

(Maybeee at the start of the expedition scarian are in and out of a relationship (you know, the complicated mess they are in life series) ?? I'm not sure, but, in any case, as the summer goes by they grow closer than ever, realizing a lot of things and ending up Properly Together.)

___________________

It's bare bones of an au, really, and I'm not sure if I'll ever do anything else with it, but the idea has been living in my head for a while and I thought it's about time to get it out 💃💃💃

UPD.: SECOND POST

#fragility-art #scarian #trafficshipping #what remains of you and me

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ahundredtimesover · 2 months ago

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Something About You (06) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: friends au, vacation au, slow burn, romcom-ish vibe; adulting; inspired by AYS; PE teacher!JK and researcher!OC; fluff, comfort, smut (?)

Chapter Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption, kissing (18+)

Word count: 22.3k

Series Masterlist

Status: Complete

Series Summary: You and Jungkook have been friends for a decade. And while he’s the charming and dependable, often reserved boy-next-door, he’s also just been a friend - a constant in your life, a part of a whole, and someone who’s seen all the flawed and probably unattractive sides of you.

A resumption of your friend group’s out-of-town trips has caused you to spend more time with him. And somewhere in between the morning coffee in the forest, running around in the snow, and watching the sunset on a boat, he’s become something more. And you’re not quite sure how to deal with it.

🎶: Beautiful Soul by Jesse McCartney || Yes or No by Jungkook

A/N: The last one (and a bonus)! It was a short journey but thank you for gushing about these two with me. They definitely have my heart. [KILIG] I hope you one day find someone you could settle into, too (could be anyone, or a dog I guess). Please enjoy! ☺️

The day after you get back from a mini-vacation is always the toughest.

You drag yourself to work on Tuesday and spend much of it daydreaming about the past weekend and everything that happened - from spending time with your friends to eating the most amazing food. It was four days of unforgettable memories that you’ll hold dear, especially considering the big changes happening in the lives of people you care about.

There was a change in yours, too - your feelings for Jungkook, specifically, and your acceptance of it. You didn’t want to expect much during the trip but you suppose that going with the flow meant you let things surprise you and they did.

From briefly holding his hands to being taken care of, you found yourself falling into what once were very normal and natural occurrences between you two and enjoying them. There was comfort and familiarity but also a rush of emotions that somehow felt new - thrill, anticipation, overwhelming desire but contentment in things being the way they are.

There were moments where you felt like you wanted to confess, like when you laid by the pool one evening and looked at the stars or when you watched the sunrise together on that final morning. That was always your thing, though. You’re assertive when it comes to what you feel for other people and you tend to let them know right away because you don’t like wasting time.

But not with Jungkook, as you feel that letting things happen and progress gradually is the more natural way of going about it, even if it feels like your feelings came out of nowhere.

In a way, they did. All it took was one conversation with your friends that got you thinking. But all you had to do was pay attention to your feelings and that’s what made you realize that maybe the comfort and familiarity you’d always felt with him was part of the process.

The 10 years of friendship was 10 years of experiencing heartbreaks and learning life lessons separately but being there for each other regardless. That’s 10 years of slowly adjusting to each other, allowing parts of yourself to intertwine and fit with his, and then finding out that you want more than what friendship can give you.

Maybe hold hands longer, or cuddle and kiss. Or more specifically, hold hands while watching something beautiful together. Or cuddle after a long, tiring day. Or kiss to express your care and appreciation in ways that words can’t. You suppose it’s experiencing life together in a new way - next to him where you wish you’ll always be.

It’s unlike you to feel like this. You don’t always wait. You act on your desires immediately because you know you can always walk away if it’s not returned, and it’s something you can live with.

But not this time, not only because you have something to lose but because desiring him is something you enjoy. Understanding what you feel, letting it settle, and then basking in it are part of the experience that you want to embrace because then you know you’re not rushing; then you know it’s real.

What’s also part of the experience is not knowing how to act and missing him. Like when he didn’t text you all Tuesday because he crashed when he got home after teaching PE all day, or when he messaged you the next day asking how you are and you stared at the text for five minutes because you didn’t know how to respond.

Or when he miraculously replied in the group chat about going to your place on the weekend but then sending his apologies the day after that because he got dragged into a school trip that he couldn’t say no to.

Today is Saturday, and you’ve been cranky since last night. You know it’s not his fault but you can’t help the empty feeling at not having him around and not being able to tell him about it.

You’re lying in bed with your thoughts going from one deep corner of your mind to another when your doorbell rings. You drag yourself out of bed and find Jimin, Taehyung, and Mo-eum smiling as you open the door.

You greet them with a pout before letting them in.

“Wow, nice to see you, too,” Jimin says sarcastically as he places the food and drinks on your coffee table.

“Hey, don’t be hard on her. I’m sure she’s happy we’re here,” Mo-eum smiles.

“Yeah. She just wishes that Jungkook was, too,” Taehyung adds. “I mean, I don’t blame her though. That’s how it is when you like someone.”

“Why are school trips scheduled on a weekend?!” You whine. “And why is he the one who had to be the substitute chaperone for it?!”

Your friends endearingly smile at you and hold in their giggles because they’re not used to seeing you pouty about Jungkook not being around.

“It’s the science club’s trip to an observatory that they scheduled this weekend because of the planets’ alignment tonight,” Mo-eum explains. “And Kook’s in the roster of substitutes so he got called in at the last minute because one of the teachers got sick. It sucks but that’s how it is.”

“It’s crazy that they just assume he’s free on the weekend,” Jimin shakes his head.

“Well, he doesn’t have his own children to take care of, that’s for sure,” Mo-eum corrects.

You know she’s right and you can’t really blame anyone for Jungkook not being here. Come to think of it, he probably prefers catching frogs at the swamp and building tents with his students over being stuck with your rowdy group in your apartment just watching movies. You also just spent the last weekend together so missing today wouldn’t be much of a big deal to him.

You’re the one who’s sulking because you miss him, and the weight of your feelings hits you again.

“I can’t believe I like him,” you sigh as you sink onto the floor by your sofa.

“I can’t believe you haven’t told him you like him,” Taehyung says as he munches on your lunch of fried chicken and beer.

“Tae, it’s just been a week,” you glare at him.

“Really?” He cocks an eyebrow.

You definitely seemed confused for longer than that.

“Fine, a few weeks, then,” you correct yourself.

“Still a few weeks more than your usual,” he hums. “I mean, you tend to kinda go for it the moment you realize you like someone.”

“Well, he isn’t just someone,” you say softly now. “He’s my friend and that makes all the difference. I can’t just walk away from him if he doesn’t like me. This is a risk in itself! Why– ugh, why did I even convince myself to give in to my feelings?!”

“___, let’s breathe a bit, yeah?” Jimin rubs your back to calm you down. “He literally just couldn’t make it today and it’s because of an obligation and not because he didn’t want to be. Okay? You can’t just assume the worst and end up regretting letting yourself feel what you feel. You haven’t even told him you like him!”

“When would I?” You pout again. “And it’s not like I’m planning it like this major event or anything. I want it to be natural but I’m also thinking - for how long should I let things be this way? Do I drop hints and then back off if he seems uninterested? Do I tell him outright? Do I wait?”

“I think, for once, you’re overthinking,” Jimin sighs. “Just see what each day brings. Did you talk this week?”

“We were texting on Wednesday. He confirmed coming today but we've both been busy since then,” you narrate. “I don’t want to just keep texting him.”

“Why not?” Mo-eum asks.

“I don’t know, I’m kinda shy. I’m cautious of being assertive and I don’t want him to think he has to reply all the time because I know he’s not the type,” you explain.

“Again, overthinking,” Jimin says. “Just do what you normally do. And do what you want. That’s how things developed anyway - you, doing things naturally, so keep it that way. And when you think you’re ready, then tell him how you feel. We’re here to support you with whatever you decide. Okay?”

“Okay,” you sigh, leaning on his shoulder before you stand up and say you’ll shower because you just got out of bed.

“Bum,” Jimin yells as you make your way to the bathroom.

“Shush, I’m sad,” you groan.

When the door shuts, Mo-eum turns to the two men.

“So, until when are we gonna pretend that we don’t know that Jungkook likes her, too? Are we just gonna hide the fact that they like each other to both of them?” She whispers.

“Mo-eum, we promised that we won’t meddle so we won’t tell her, the same way we’re not telling Kook that she likes him,” Taehyung responds.

“Well, you asking Kook if he likes ___ and Jimin suggesting to ___ that she could like him is kinda like meddling, isn’t it?” Mo-eum asks.

“Hey, my question was totally innocent,” Taehyung defends.

“And I literally just floated an idea. I didn’t even know that Kook already liked her that time,” Jimin counters.

“Okay fine. So now they like each other and we’re the only three people who know. Why aren’t we doing anything?” Mo-eum wails. “___ is sulking because Kook isn’t here and Kook is texting me, asking what we’re doing as if there’s anything more to say about movies and drinks!”

“Because we’re good friends who’ll nudge them here and there but then we’ll let them confess at their own time and place,” Taehyung says. “We did our part last weekend. I left them alone and stopped myself from teasing them so that I wouldn't ruin their moment.”

“True. And I made sure no one else wanted to watch the sunrise with them on Monday morning,” Jimin adds. “I had to do hypnosis on Joon to convince him that he didn’t need to see it just so ___ and Kook could have their alone time.”

“Fine,” Mo-eum agrees. “So do we just let them figure it out from here?”

“For now, I think we just wait,” Taehyung nods. “I’m leaving soon so we’ll have more time to see each other and that means more chances of them spending time together or being alone. I just hope they figure their shit out while I’m still here so I can celebrate.”

“We’ll see. I mean, you have that farewell party next Friday and something has been happening every night out,” Jimin states. “Who knows? Maybe it will happen then.”

The three of them quickly change the topic once they hear the door unlock and you return to the living room. You look less upset now and there’s a bit more life on your face and they know you probably just needed to cool off.

“You feeling better?” Mo-eum asks as you reclaim your seat next to her on the couch.

“I think I just needed a shower,” you chuckle, thinking to yourself earlier how silly you are for sulking.

Of course you wish Jungkook was here, but just thinking about him being with his students and witnessing something pretty spectacular tonight makes you smile.

He loves his kids. He’s a proponent of learning outside the classroom and he’s often talked about how he enjoys joining excursions and field trips because of the other things he gets to teach them. He loves his job and his passion for it - no matter how quiet or subdued compared to yours - is incredibly attractive. You can’t wait until he tells you all about it.

Your friends look at you softly and take your word for it. You’re one who says what she means and they suppose you just needed to rein in your feelings so you could get over them.

“Alright then. Movie time,” Taehyung smiles.

You sit in between him and Mo-eum, alternating leaning on their shoulders, as you watch his picks for today. You go from action in Reservoir Dogs to heartfelt romcom in About Time - his favorites - which means you go from tense to cry-laughing the entire afternoon. You get food delivered for dinner and your friends stay until close to midnight.

The two glasses of wine you have make you sleepy, but you don’t crash out right away. The minutes before you do, you think of Jungkook again and how he’s doing. You wonder if he got to marvel at the night sky and if he’s warm enough for the night. You wonder, too, if he was thinking about you.

You learn the next morning that he was, as you wake up at 10 AM to a photo of the sunrise from him. It looks like it’s taken by a lake, and you see the light illuminate on the water. It’s stunning, and you smile as you stare at it and feel the rush of thrilling yet wholesome emotion at the thought of him thinking of you when he took this.

[to: bunny kook] that’s so pretty, kook! It looks so calming

[from: bunny kook] yeah it was.

[from: bunny kook] i think the one in jeju was better though

You spend the remainder of the morning just giggling to yourself and kicking your blanket out of excitement.

It’s silly acting this way over one text, but you suppose that’s how quickly you’ve fallen into the deep end of this whole liking Jungkook thing. You might also be overthinking because him saying that the sunrise in Jeju was better could literally mean that he liked the view there more. That was followed by a pod of dolphins swimming so you’d understand if that was his reason.

But then again, there was also you. He told you about the sunrise. He asked you if you wanted to see it. You’d like to think that you’re the missing variable this time and maybe that wouldn’t be a stretch. So you bask in it for a while even if he messages that he’ll get back to you later once they’re on the trip home.

You go about your day running errands. It’s mid-afternoon when he sends a text that they’re on the bus heading back to Seoul and you reply that you’d just gotten back to your apartment to do some chores. You talk like that for the next hour or so as you constantly check the clock, hoping that it wouldn’t be too much if you ask him to have dinner somewhere nearby when he arrives.

But as luck would have it, their bus gets caught in traffic. And when they finally arrive at the school, he has to wait for the last remaining student to get picked up before he could leave. It’s not that late in the evening but you think it’s late enough to hang out, and given the weekend he’s had, you suppose he’d just want to lay in bed and get some rest.

So that’s what you suggest that he does.

[from: bunny kook] where should I get food delivered?

You laugh at his question, not because it’s funny but because it seems silly that he’s asking you. You decide to call him and reason to yourself that it’s much easier than texting, which is true. You’re folding your clothes after all.

“Are you really asking me about food?” You gasp when he picks up the phone.

“Well, you’re the one who always orders delivery,” he chuckles. “I’m kinda drained; I can’t really think right now. What do you recommend?”

You think about it, really think about it. You don’t want to disappoint him with your food choice so you give him options of your favorite burger joint, your go-to donburi place, a noodle house, and a Chinese restaurant - all hearty and definitely his type of food. He decides on getting a rice bowl and he orders while you’re on speaker.

“Alright. That should come in half an hour,” he informs you.

That’s enough time to talk, you think, so you ask him how the trip was.

“Oh, there’s so much to say. And I have to show you the pictures so I’ll tell you everything the next time I see you but it was really fun,” he shares. “The guides taught the kids about the different plants in the forest and which mushrooms are poisonous. Then we set up tents on a field and then went to an observatory to look at the stars. They loved seeing the planets on the telescope and it was just nice to see them excited.”

“That sounds fun, Kook. Glad you got to be with them then, even if it was a short notice trip,” you say, and meaning it.

“Yeah, I just wasn’t ready, especially having just come from a trip. Mr. Im was the other option but it was his son’s birthday so he begged off,” Jungkook sighs. “I still would’ve enjoyed movies at your place though. I heard there wasn’t any horror on the list.”

“Nope. Tae’s choices. Plus, neither one of the guys wanted to sit next to me and Mo-eum,” you laugh. “Jimin said we would’ve watched something scary if you were there since you don’t mind being yelled at.”

“Hey, you’ve improved. We watched The Thing last week and you yelled just one time,” he points out.

Not like you could admit that the only reason why you didn’t react like you normally would was because you were more nervous doing something silly with him so you just laugh and agree.

“Well, what a weekend for you, huh? I’m sure you’re exhausted, and you go back to work tomorrow,” you say, wishing he would’ve had time to rest.

“It happens. It’s part of the job and it’s fine,” he hums.

Jungkook stops himself from saying more, like how he wished he got to spend even a bit of today with you. But he wasn’t sure if it would’ve been too much if he insisted, given that you were doing errands all day, too. And well, he would’ve been obvious as well, even if looking back, sending you the sunrise picture then saying that the one in Jeju was better could’ve given him away.

He woke up at dawn for a quick hike up a hill to watch the sun rise because he wanted to reminisce about last weekend and be reminded of you. It still looked pretty but it felt different doing it on his own.

He recalled the last morning in Jeju - your little squeals every time he drove through a hump then feeling you tighten your hold on his waist for security, sitting on the ledge and seeing your smile grow wider as the sun ascended, and the way you held his hand in awe as if things didn’t feel real unless you had something to touch.

You thanked him for taking you there and said that you’ll always remember that moment. He blanked out and couldn’t say that he’ll always remember it, too. A part of him wishes that he’d been braver that day and just told you how he felt, but he thought of the plane ride and the drive back home and how awkward it would’ve been if you didn’t feel the same way and he didn’t want to put you in that position.

But what he’s learned these past months is that the thrill, the anticipation, the curiosity and yes, even the regret, are all part of the experience. It’s part of settling into the feeling and settling into you and he knows that at the end of the day, whether he crashes on the ground or he lands safely, the comfort of these past few months because of you is what he’ll remember.

That’s what he wants you to remember, too.

You hear the doorbell ring on Jungkook’s side of the line and you internally sigh at having to end the call. Despite how close you’ve become recently, you’re not exactly at the level where you talk this much and while someone’s doing something else, so you offer to hang up.

There’s a beat of silence on his end and you resort to calling him out to retain that sense of normalcy in your friendship.

“You chew loudly,” you reason. “You eat like a child sometimes.”

“Uhm, and you don’t?” He counters. “You’re the one who eats while yapping.”

“I like to multi-task,” you say. “I can nourish myself while arguing a point or narrating a story.”

“You’re silly,” he chuckles now, but he decides to let you go.

He would’ve wanted to stay on the line with you but you’re sensitive to chewing sounds and he can’t help himself with how he eats sometimes. He’s not really the type to be on a phone call for long but he doesn’t mind it with you because you always have something to say. You fill the silence that he doesn’t know what to do with, and even when there’s nothing to say, he just likes knowing that you’re there.

“But yeah, I’ll go ahead and eat. Thanks for the recommendation. The food looks delicious and their serving is huge,” he states.

“Yup, thought you might like that part,” you laugh. “Get lots of rest, okay? And uh, see you soon? Tae said he’ll organize dinner this week and then there’s his farewell party on Friday.”

“Yup. He’s been blowing up my phone with reminders. I’ll see you then. Bye.”

You finally hang up and lay on the pile of clothes that you stopped folding since getting on the call with Jungkook. It’s become increasingly clear that you want more of him and you’re trying not to get overwhelmed and be swept away by your emotions.

You know what you feel for him is real; you just don’t want to scare him off with how deeply you feel it. You have to remind yourself to tone it down and give him space to breathe because who knows what he’s feeling, too?

Maybe your friends do or maybe they don’t. Even with their non-stop teasing and their penchant for pushing your buttons, you know enough that they won’t meddle or at least, act or say anything on anyone’s behalf.

You’ve seen it with Seokjin and Hayoung and even Suhyeon and Hoseok. And while Jimin has his Yoongi-Gyu-rim agenda, you know that he knows his boundaries and he’s letting them figure things out on his own. Kinda like what he and Taehyung and Mo-eum are doing with you.

But you’ll see Jungkook again like you said. Maybe the time to tell him would be then.

The American restaurant that Taehyung chooses is quite loud and full for a Wednesday night. He doesn’t mind it though, since it’s like preparation for him on how the next year of his life is going to be like. He’s leaving for New York next week and he wants to brush up on his English and American pop culture knowledge, which is why you’re all here during quiz night.

You got stuck in a meeting and took a cab here and more noise isn’t exactly what you need right now but you suppose it’s fine. You’d go anywhere for Taehyung and you know that this kind of vibe is what he seeks sometimes.

He runs to you when he sees you enter the restaurant and gives you a tight hug. It hasn’t sunk in yet but you know soon that it will, so you hold him tighter and whisper that you’ll miss him but you already hate this place.

“Ha! I figured. Yoongi’s been cursing me under his breath since he arrived, too,” he laughs. “But don’t worry. My parents’ house on Sunday for lunch and it’ll be better. They serve the best milkshake and lava cake here so order them.”

He grabs your hand then whispers. “I saved you a seat,” and gestures to the space next to Jungkook.

“Weren’t you sitting there a while ago?” You ask.

“Yeah, because I was saving it for you. Hoseok and Namjoon are still on the way.”

“Tae,” you pull his hand now, as you recall your thoughts from these past few days of where your friends might stand in this whole situation. “What does this all mean?”

“What?”

“This…” you sigh as you gesture towards Jungkook. “Letting me sit next to him and, I don’t know, things you’ve said?”

“Because you’re my friend and I support what you feel,” he smiles tenderly. “Nevermind his side, whatever it is. What matters to me is that you get to experience something new and good, something that makes you feel good about yourself, and something that you could settle into and that makes you feel like it’s right.”

Your face softens as you process his words. Your friends know you as someone who dives right into things and doesn’t care much for the consequences because you’ve always managed to get through them, whatever the end result was. With Jungkook, you’ve learned to settle into the feeling, experiencing every fun and exciting and scary part of it and you suppose that’s made you appreciate yourself, too.

“But hey, you know me,” he continues. “I’m not gonna let you crash, especially when I won’t be around. Take that how you want.”

His smile is a bit cheeky this time as he pulls you again towards the table. He takes the seat across from you while you take the one he supposedly saved, right next to Jungkook.

“Hey,” he greets. “Heard you got caught up in a meeting.”

“Yeah. The CEO of some Foundation was at the office and my manager dragged me along,” you sigh. “I left my car at the office because I was too tired to drive.”

“Well you’re here now. You feeling okay?”

“Yup, all good now,” you assure him. “So, Tae said the milkshake and lava cake are good so I’m getting both. What did you order?”

“None yet, I haven’t made up my mind. What are you thinking?”

You browse the menu and go through a bunch of choices with him before you settle on barbecue ribs while he orders a steak sandwich and lobster mac and cheese. You get the chocolate milkshake while he gets vanilla.

The conversations around you are constant, this despite the fact that you all spent several days together not long ago, but you suppose so much has happened since then. The wedding preparations continue. Taehyung has finalized his rent of an apartment in Manhattan and booked a local modeling gig. Mo-eum’s up for a service award. And Hoseok spearheaded a massive fashion collaboration.

You sometimes forget that your friends are at the top of their fields because of how natural and human they are outside of their jobs. It’s a relief, you think, that despite everything that goes on in their lives, your circle of friends will always be home.

You think about the man next to you and feel that way about him, regardless of what he feels for you. You suppose that’s what Taehyung meant about experiencing something good for a change.

Jungkook feels like home. Whether it’s one you move on from or one you stay in for a long time is something you have yet to find out, but you’re settling in it comfortably now and you like it.

And when he nudges your shoulder to show you his food then offers you the first spoonful of the mac and cheese, you start to think that maybe you like being here for now. You like the comfort and the carefree feeling of it. There aren't any expectations nor demands.

You just… like him. You like being around him. You want to hold his hand and it’s okay if you don’t get to yet. You want to know how his lips taste but you can wait until the time comes. You want to drown in his warmth but leaning on his shoulder would be enough to satisfy you.

This is different for you, too. You’re often impatient and needy. You need to get your hands on whatever you want the moment you decide you want it. Maybe with Jungkook, you will, eventually. Maybe it isn’t now.

You enjoy the night more than you thought you would. Your table wins first place on the quiz. Taehyung wows the entire restaurant when he sings Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby on the jukebox.

And you savor every bite of your ribs and share the lava cake with Jungkook. You notice him pushing the chocolate syrup and vanilla ice cream on your side of the plate so you could get more of it and your heart jumps at this.

It’s the little things, you realized the other night. He’s so good at them. He pays attention even if sometimes it seems like he’s spacing out but you’ve noticed him notice everything. You wonder if he’s noticed the change in you, and if he has, you wonder if he’s just going with the flow like you are, just waiting for the right time to make a move.

“Your mind’s gone elsewhere again,” he chuckles, disrupting your thoughts. “The ice cream’s melting.”

“Ah, you know me,” you shrug and finally take that final spoonful. “It doesn’t stop… thinking. It freaks me out sometimes.”

“Hmm. I hope your thoughts never scare you though.”

“They’re not always good, you know?”

“They’re still yours,” he counters. “You don’t have to be scared of yourself.”

You nod and smile, and you wonder how he does it, how he just calms you down with words or even with a look of assurance.

This is the version of you that likes him. And like you’ve realized, you like this version of you that likes him. You start to wonder if you’ll also like the version of you that gets to be with him and if he’ll like that, too.

Dinner finally ends after most of you run out of energy. It’s a work night, after all, and it’s just the middle of the week. Since you left your car at your office, Jungkook offers to drive you home.

You nod, and just when you thought you’d get to be alone with him again, Namjoon asks if he could hitch a ride, too. He has to pass by a friend’s apartment and he lives in the same block as Jungkook.

“Uh, sure,” Jungkook nods. “Let’s go. I’ll just drop ___ off first.”

“No problem,” Namjoon smiles.

You laugh at how things are turning out, as the rollercoaster of emotions gives you a whiplash. You say goodbye to your friends and when you get to Jimin, Taehyung, and Mo-eum, they’re frowning and asking why Namjoon is cockblocking you right now.

“Oh shush, he isn’t,” you chuckle. “It’s fine. I liked tonight with Kook.”

And you mean it. You sat next to him and he talked about the school trip. You scooted closer so you could hear each other over the noise. You got to see his smile again and felt that comfort that being with him gives.

And all that felt enough, reminding you that this isn’t like all the times before. It assures you because what Jungkook deserves is certainty and you think that’s what you can give.

Namjoon sits in the passenger seat with you sitting behind him. And you don’t mind at all; you like listening to him ramble about things. So does Jungkook, as he laughs and asks questions, even as he constantly looks at the rear view mirror and meets your eyes.

You feel the rush whenever he does, like this tingling feeling all over your body, especially when you see him smile right after from the back of the passenger seat. It does quell the noise in your mind a bit, as it constantly goes from wanting to tell him how you feel to wanting to bask in this feeling a little while longer.

You arrive at your apartment and Namjoon reaches out his hand from the front for you to shake as a goodbye. Jungkook turns to you with a softness in his eyes, like a look of contentment mixed with a bit of regret that you probably mirror.

“Good night, ___. Don’t hurt yourself, yeah?”

“I’ll try,” you chuckle. “Thanks, Kook. I’ll see you guys again.”

You walk up the steps of your apartment and glance back to see Jungkook’s smile before he drives off.

Jungkook looks at himself in the half-body mirror and nods, feeling satisfied with his chosen outfit for this Friday night.

It’s Taehyung’s farewell party before he leaves next week and all your friends are obligated to go. Not that Jungkook wouldn’t, but he at least prefers to go in peace, and not with the said man knocking at his door and demanding they go to the Club together. And then judging him for what he’s wearing.

“Nope, you’re not wearing that,” Taehyung shakes his head. “Choose something else.”

“What’s wrong with a shirt and jeans? I actually think I look pretty good when I’m in a basic outfit,” Jungkook argues.

“You do. But Kook, you need to look irresistible.”

Jungkook turns around and gives his friend an incredulous look.

“Why?”

“Because I have hot friends and if one of them fancies ___ and asks her out, what are you gonna do?” Taehyung challenges. “Are you gonna sweep in with your basic outfit and make her pay attention to you? I mean, what are you even doing at this point?”

“Okay, you’re being harsh,” Jungkook scowls, wondering where all this accusation is coming from. “And hey, I’ve been doing a lot, okay? I take her home, I text her, I… I’m affectionate with her.”

“Yeah, normal things I guess,” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “But what are you telling her?”

“That I like spending time with her?”

“What about hey I like you, should we date?”

“None of that… yet,” Jungkook sighs as he sits on the couch and leans his head back, suddenly feeling stressed at this sudden attack. “Why are you rushing me anyway?”

“I’m not rushing you. It’s just that you’ve liked her for months but you haven’t told her yet. I’m just wondering why. I mean, you haven’t really been saying much about it recently.”

“Because I don’t know how to express it,” Jungkook admits. “I never know how with these things. And I told you, I want her to settle into me, slowly. If I confess to her without that happening then it might freak her out and I don’t want that. I want her to actually like me back, you know?”

Taehyung merely hums, cautious not to give anything away. While he, Jimin, and Mo-eum have talked about not meddling, it doesn't mean it isn’t frustrating when he has to pretend like he doesn’t know anything, especially when you and Jungkook are so painfully unaware of what the other is really feeling.

It’s tempting to tell Jungkook about what you feel, the same way it’s tempting to tell you that he’s actually been pining for you for a while now. Or even to just lock both of you in a room and urge one of you to confess, or blast it on some speaker that you both like each other. Though Taehyung doubts it’d ruin things, he doesn’t think it’s the most natural way to go about it.

He supposes that one downside of being long-time friends who end up liking each other is that things that may seem normal actually already mean something more. Perhaps it’s a defense mechanism, and it’s probably why you haven’t picked up just how much Jungkook likes you and why he doesn’t seem convinced that you like him, too. Maybe it’s also because you’re both focusing so much on how you feel and not what each other’s actions probably mean.

But like he said, he won’t meddle but he could nudge. And dictating how Jungkook looks tonight is one way he could do that. Taehyung already knows how you react to the man and if Jungkook sees that, it might give him the confidence this time.

“Okay then. Entice her,” Taehyung says as he gets back to the conversation.

“What the heck does that mean?” Jungkook laughs at the absurdity.

“Just… wear something that fits the occasion more than jeans and a shirt. Like, something that you think would impress her.”

Jungkook nods and thinks it’s not a bad idea. He never felt like he needed to try with you when it came to how he looked or presented himself. He’s always dressed in jeans or joggers with a shirt or a jacket whenever he meets you and you never mind. Not that you have a reason to. You even seem to like it when he’s in his oversized hoodies because they’re comfortable, which is what you said about the one he lent you in Jeju.

But maybe if he wants you to see him differently, dressing up might be one way to do it. So he heads to his closet and puts on an outfit that he thinks might work then asks his friend if it’s okay.

“Hmm,” Taehyung circles him. “Jeans and boots are on brand. Switch the jacket with a leather one. And good choice with the tank top because she likes nice arms and you better flaunt them.”

“I’m not gonna remove my jacket there,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, although he admits feeling confident about his physique.

He may have seen you look at his body a little longer than usual during your last trip and he admits it made him feel good, even if he wondered why you didn’t say anything because you tend to be vocal about those things.

Taehyung disregards him and pulls out a belt from the drawer as a final touch.

“Wear this.”

“Oh, I forgot I had this,” Jungkook says as he puts it on.

“I bought that for you years ago! Can you appreciate the fancy things I get you and wear them?!”

“Yeah, I will,” Jungkook laughs.

He assesses himself in the mirror and thinks that he looks infinitely better. He feels good in it, too. He’s unsure if being dressed up would do much but he hopes it will, at least in terms of giving him the confidence to drop even bigger hints about how he feels. And then depending on how you react, maybe he’ll confess, too.

He looks back at your trip and the times you’d held his hand - consciously and instinctively - and your moments of silence and comfort that were somehow laced with tension. He’s hopeful that he’s not hopeless when it comes to you.

Taehyung hums in contentment at his friend. He knows that with you, the feelings are new and you’re still getting used to them. A few days on an island where Jungkook was half naked half the time already got you all hot and bothered and made you attentive to how it affected you.

Maybe seeing Jungkook with this mature yet casual look could do something to you, too. And if it’ll help push you to be honest about what you feel, maybe that’s what the two of you really need.

You stare at yourself in the restaurant’s bathroom mirror and think you look good enough for a night at the Club.

You got dragged to a sponsor’s dinner and had to quickly choose what to wear so you could go to the Club for Taehyung’s farewell party right after. You went for a sparkly top and white skirt ensemble paired with blue velvet heels and it makes you feel a little flirty and confident, which is what you need if you want to see where this whole thing with Jungkook could lead.

Not that you expect that anything huge would happen but if you could have moments again, then that wouldn’t be bad. Taehyung gave you a heads up about his hot friends being present and quite frankly, you don’t care. You already know that Jungkook’s the only one you’ll have your eyes on and you’re excited to see him.

You put your hair down then head out. You finish the dinner and get in the car that Taehyung sent for you since he wanted to make sure you got to his party on time, even if you’re punctual and he’s just early. He said he wanted to be with his friends as long as possible. And that he dragged Jungkook with him so you can’t be late.

You aren’t, but when you arrive at the Club, it’s already packed. Taehyung has always been a social butterfly so you didn’t expect any less but still, this is way too many people for your liking.

You make your way in and spot some familiar faces. You heard that there are reserved tables for you and your friends so that’s where you try to go, but Jihyo gets to you first and starts dancing with you.

“Just like college, hey?” She giggles, and you laugh at your memories from those days.

You’re glad you remained friends with her. She always matches your friends’ energy and right now, it’s pretty high, as you spot Jimin and Mo-eum dancing their way towards you.

Jimin hugs you and compliments your look, stating how it feels so girly, a contrast to Jungkook and his leather jacket. Your eyes immediately flit to where he is, and you spot him on the table, laughing with Namjoon as they engage the people who pass by to greet them.

He looks so handsome with his parted hair, especially when he combs it with his fingers like he often does. You see the neckline of his top and that is definitely not a shirt like you expected he’d wear, and your heart does a thing at the thought that he’s in a tank top again. Just the image of him in one gives you the shivers.

He meets your eyes and it takes you a few seconds for it to register, but you manage to smile and wave in time. Hopefully he doesn’t pick up the pattern of you constantly zoning out whenever you look his way.

You manage to get out of your dancing circle and head to the table where your friends are. Namjoon engulfs you in a hug and praises you for a recently published research from your team that he already finished reading. Hoseok and his girlfriend get to you right after, and you quickly get into conversation because it’s been a while since you’ve seen her.

You constantly glance at Jungkook who just sips his drink while chatting with whoever is near him. There’s a tiny smirk on his face after you meet his eyes though, and you see it from your periphery. You wonder if he’s waiting for you to go to him like you are.

It takes a while but you make it around the table after greeting everyone, finally ending up where Jungkook is. He softly smiles at you before giving you a hug and whispering hey. Your body chooses to shiver again in response.

“Hey,” you greet back then look at him from head-to-toe. “Did Tae dress you?”

“Sort of,” Jungkook chuckles. “He told me to change from something else and made me wear the belt and the jacket. Does it suit me?”

You’re unsure if this is a trick question. Or a test. You’re losing your mind over this outfit and he’s fully clothed.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Different from your usual outfits and this is… mature.”

He snorts in response. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You realize the other connotation of what you just said and try to make something up but your brain already isn’t functioning at full capacity so you wave him off.

“Whatever. It means what it means.”

He says something but you can’t hear him over the loud music so he leans closer and whispers in your ear again.

“I said the outfit looks nice on you. It’s very chic.”

��Oh, thanks,” you mutter, feeling the heat on your cheeks. “I, uh, I tried. Tae has hot friends and—”

You stop mid-sentence at the stupidity of your words. Your brain truly isn’t functioning right because you obviously dressed all prettily so the man in front of you would pay attention to you but you go on about Tae’s friends who you don’t even care about instead.

You turn away and curse at yourself internally, unable to properly correct yourself to Jungkook.

“Right, of course,” he replies.

As if by some cosmic occurrence, Taehyung appears next to you and pulls you in a hug. You thank him for the ride and he says his car and chauffeur are there for you should you decide to go home early, which he won’t mind you doing. He steps back and looks at your outfit.

“I like this vibe,” he hums in approval. “Doesn’t she look nice, Kook?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook sips his drink and nods. “I’m sure everyone would think so.”

He doesn’t look you in the eyes, not like what he was doing just a minute ago, and you feel stupid all over again, so you try to get out of it.

“I, uh… bathroom!” You blurt out. “I… I have to go.”

You turn around and scold yourself repeatedly until you find Jimin on the dance floor and pull him to a nearby table.

“Jungkook complimented me and I said I tried to look nice because Tae’s friends are hot and I’m so stupid because why the fuck would I say that!” You yell in one breath. “Is my brain secretly jeopardizing my chances with this man without me knowing? Whose mind is this?! Why is it dumb?”

Jimin, who’s clearly had some to drink and is no doubt endeared by your yapping, chuckles and hugs you.

“Oh, ___. You become a little silly in front of Kook. I think that’s normal.”

“It’s stupid,” you pout.

“It's not the end of the world though. He already thinks you look good.”

“I said his outfit is mature.”

Jimin snorts this time and assures you it’s fine. You probably just need a drink to calm your nerves. It’s a different environment with him this time, at least since you’ve admitted to yourself what you feel, and saying things you don’t exactly mean happens.

“Come. Let’s have a shot.”

Jimin pulls you to the bar and orders you something that might help a bit. Hayoung arrives shortly after and says she needs a drink for Seokjin so he’ll start loosening up and stop clinging to her. You talk a little bit and you glance at Jungkook every chance you get.

He’s talking to Jihyo and your other friends and dancing a bit when they make him. You feel silly for leaving his side and wish you were next to him because even if you’d seen each other a few days ago, it still feels like it’s been so long.

But right when you’re about to head back to him, your hand gets pulled again and you turn to see Gyu-rim dragging you back to the bar.

“I need you. You’re sensible and direct,” she tells you.

“Do you need me, too?” Jimin pops up next to you with his sickly sweet smile.

“No. You give me a headache,” Gyu-rim deadpans, prompting Jimin to giggle and head back to the dance floor.

“Okay. What do you need my brand of sensibility for?” You ask your friend.

“Yoongi hasn’t minded me all night. I need you to tell me it’s normal and I shouldn’t worry.”

“Why would you worry about it?”

Gyu-rim shrugs and looks away.

Yoongi doesn’t always mind people and it’s one of those quirks of his that everyone’s just accepted. Not unless he’s not usually like that with her. Or something happened and he should be minding her. Either way, it’s bothering her, and as someone who usually doesn’t care, Gyu-rim seems to be caring a lot.

And then it hits you.

“Do you… do you like him?”

Gyu-rim’s resting bitch face doesn’t give much until she starts blinking rapidly. Then she nods.

“Oh my god! That’s… that’s amazing,” you squeal. “Wait, this doesn’t have anything to do with Jimin and his pact, right? You can’t have him putting things in your head, Gyu.”

“No—yes, I mean… I liked Yoongi before Jimin ever said anything,” she admits. “Jimin has this weird thing about knowing, I guess. He’s probably an empath or something but the moment he started yapping about that pact shit and teasing us, I started thinking that maybe it’s not just me, that maybe someone else could see… something between me and Yoongi.”

“How’d you know you like him? I mean, you’ve been friends for so long,” you ask, hoping you could get a bit of insight from someone who probably knows what you’re feeling.

“He just always made me smile.”

“But you… you rarely smile,” you furrow your brows.

“Inside, ___,” she groans, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I always smile inside when he’s around. Like, he just makes things better and I don’t know anyone else who does that for me.”

“Can I ask what it was about him that made you feel all this?”

Her lips slowly turn up.

“He can handle all of me, you know? I’m aloof and impatient and uncaring and I have all this baggage but he just lets me be and deals with all that because he just does,” she says, and you see the tiniest of smiles on her face. “I’m never too much for him. And he’s just the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

You smile this time because that’s the Yoongi you know. He’s very accepting of people and he has this quiet warmth about it. But even if it’s something you see in him as well, it’s Gyu-rim who feels differently. And just like you’d told Jungkook before, parts of us adjust around other people and you find someone who fits you right and then you just want to be with them all the time. It’s not very different from how you feel, too.

“Okay, so back to the part about telling you that you shouldn’t worry,” you say. “You shouldn’t worry. This isn’t Yoongi’s crowd nor is it his scene, you know that. And sometimes that makes people uncomfortable. It makes them not think straight. Do you think something’s bothering him though? What were you doing before that?”

“We were drinking last night, just talking about stuff, you know? About growing old and shit and my mom called about some family friend’s son who’s visiting Seoul and that I should bring him around so I did and—”

“Wait, he’s the other guy who was at our table?” You ask.

You remember some unfamiliar dude that you just smiled at then passed by. You didn’t think he was actually with any of your friends.

“Yeah… I mean, where else would I take him? I took him to Co-ex earlier and—”

“What if Yoongi isn’t used to seeing you with another guy anymore? I mean, it’s been a while since you’ve been with someone. Maybe he wants to talk to you but the dude is… there? And he doesn’t want him to feel uncomfortable or Yoongi himself… doesn’t know how to act?”

“Hmm,” she hums. “See, that’s more sensible. Hoseok said Yoongi might be jealous or something.”

“That’s… that’s also possible.”

“No. Stick to what you said,” she frowns. “That’s… that’s more realistic. I don’t want to hope for Yoongi to be jealous because that implies something.”

“Fine. He’s just unsure of how to act because he’s used to things just being you and him. So just talk to him. Don’t give in to his awkwardness. He doesn’t push anyone away so just stay next to him then he’ll give in!”

“Okay then,” she nods. “You know your shit, huh?”

“I just… listen to podcasts, I guess,” you lie.

If she doesn’t believe you, she doesn’t show it. She nods again, buys you a drink, then walks off. You watch her approach Yoongi with a glass of whiskey. They don’t talk at first but you see her try to engage until he finally says something, turns towards her, and then all is normal again.

You pat yourself on the back for handling that rather maturely. But your little triumph ends quickly, as Mo-eum stands next to you at the bar and asks you why you’re there.

“Gyu-rim had a crisis and I helped her with it. She bought me a drink.”

“Oh. I think Yoongi likes her,” Mo-eum says matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” you say in surprise, deciding on keeping mum about what you know.

“But anyway. Back to you. Why are you here instead of where Jungkook is? Don’t you plan on letting him know what you feel?” She asks.

“I… I probably do,” you convince yourself. “I just said something stupid and I’m letting that settle first by not being around him. What do I even say?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one who asks the guy you like out,” she shrugs.

“Do I look like I’m confident about this Jungkook thing?!” You exclaim. “I don’t even know what to do or say or if I should even do it now.”

“Do you need a nudge or a push?” She asks. “Because I’ll do it for you.”

You look at her questioningly before she turns your head towards a direction in the Club and there you see it, Jungkook by a cocktail table, talking to a girl.

He’s bending down to hear what she has to say over the music, and she tiptoes to get closer to him. And while it may be totally innocent, just the sight of him being that close with another woman makes your heart sink.

“I, uh…” you stutter, unsure of what to say.

“Jimin said she’s a friend of theirs from middle school so they go way back. And she happens to be a model-actress friend of Tae’s,” Mo-eum explains as she leans back on the bar table. “They just bumped into each other and caught up. Small world, huh?”

“She, uh… She looks happy to see him,” you state.

The woman is laughing and patting Jungkook’s arm and he looks engaged, too. He’s smiling and watching her talk and maybe they’re really just catching up and there’s not much to it. It’s also possible that with all the serendipitous meetings that happen everyday, this might be the one that changes it for them.

Because it happens. Two old friends meet again after years and who knows if they had history? It’s possible that there were hidden feelings and now they’ve matured and can finally express and act on them. Or maybe these grown up versions of themselves are what they need, and you’re just standing by, watching it unfold for both of them.

Your mind’s already conjured so many scenarios, many of them involve Jungkook and the woman holding hands. But you notice him meeting your gaze and you quickly look away.

“She is. I heard they haven’t seen each other in so long,” Mo-eum says. “Imagine seeing a middle school classmate after decades and finding out he’s pretty cute.”

You turn to your best friend with a frown. She’s never provoked you like this.

“What? I’m just saying. She might scoop him up before you even get a chance to tell him you like him. I don’t even know what you’re waiting for.”

“I’m just being cautious,” you reason.

“Hmm. Does caution get you the guy?”

You disregard her question and continue.

“I’m enjoying how we are now without directly talking about feelings,” you add.

“Okay. But are you enjoying now?”

“Clearly not! What the fuck, Mo-eum. I never get jealous. What is this feeling?!”

“It doesn’t feel good, does it?”

You panic inside as the scenarios flash before your eyes again. You may be a bit dramatic but that’s how you are and it’s how you deal with things.

“Okay, I can’t do this,” you say as you start walking to the opposite direction of where Jungkook is.

But Mo-eum pulls you back.

“Yah! Where are you going?”

“Just…” you start, briefly looking at Jungkook again who just happens to meet your eyes every time. “Somewhere. To take a breath. I don’t know. I can’t be around for this.”

“You were already avoiding him. You can’t keep doing that all night,” she sighs. “Didn’t you say that you don’t want to act differently because if you do, he’ll ask you what’s wrong then you’ll end up telling him everything?”

“Exactly! And I can’t… do that at a Club! And not with the image of him with another girl drilled in my mind,” you pout, your head bowing down now.

“___, hey. Look at me,” she says, shifting your body to face her. “That might not even be anything. I’m sorry for putting things in your head. But… you have a chance to spend time with him so take it. You can’t just keep skirting around what you feel when you already know you like him. And I can see that you like him a lot.”

“I do,” you say with furrowed brows and she laughs at how angrily you say it.

“You look like Kook when he eats something really delicious.”

You frown at her teasing and you let her drag you back towards your table where you see Jungkook is now at. With the girl.

Your dramatic ass won’t let the logical part of you win. You don’t care. You’ll go full Yoongi mode tonight.

You stay at the cocktail table next to your friends. Jungkook, you know out of courtesy, introduces you to the woman as a friend from middle school. You greet her as you would any person, and she seems nice and she’s also really pretty.

She gets back into conversation with Hoseok and his girlfriend because they apparently have common social circles. You’re reminded that you live in your bubble with your friends and they’re connected to more people outside of your group. Their talk about fashion and other things that you can’t relate with makes you zone out.

As you’re about to turn to Namjoon next to you, Jungkook approaches your side.

“Hey, ___. Are you—”

“Do you want a drink?” You interject. “I’m heading to the bar right now.”

He looks at you with pursed lips before he answers.

“Just a glass of Coke.”

“Okay. An amaretto sour for me then,” you nod before heading out.

Jungkook watches you make your way to the bar for the nth time in the past two hours or so. He’s barely spoken to you all night and it’s all he’s wanted to do but you’ve been off talking to other people and he’s getting a tiny bit jealous. He was on his way to you when a friend from middle school called him and they got to talking.

Maybe the second time he caught you looking at him before you looked away should have signaled to him that he should just go to you and make sure you don’t get away again but he’s been hesitant all night, and only because you look unsure and uncomfortable. You also did say that you dressed up because Taehyung’s friends are hot and there have been all these mixed signals and he doesn’t know what to do.

When you get back to the table and place the drink in front of him then immediately head to the couch and sit between Hayoung and Seokjin, Jungkook sighs to himself. You’re so pretty tonight and he hasn’t even been able to appreciate that because you’ve been feeling so far away.

“Oh, Kook. Don’t be too sad I’m leaving,” Taehyung says as he appears next to him. “I mean, that’s why you look upset at my farewell party right?”

“It’s too early for that. You literally scheduled to see me every single day next week,” Jungkook playfully shakes his head. “Sorry. You’re not the reason why I’m upset right now.”

“Is it ___?”

“She’s been avoiding me all night. You said this outfit is supposed to make me look irresistible!”

“And you do! I’ve had so many people ask for your number and beg me to introduce them to you but I lied and said you’re dating someone.”

“How does that help me?”

“So no one would tail you!” Taehyung says.

“Doesn’t matter, does it? The one person whose attention I want can’t even stay more than a minute next to me.”

Taehyung can only sigh at his friend.

“She’s seated now. Take the seat in front of her and try again.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says softly.

He always enjoyed it when you just found your way to each other during nights like this but he supposes he’s got to make it happen this time.

So that’s what he does, as he approaches the couch and takes the small chair in front of you. He quickly gets into conversation with Seokjin and Hayoung and he looks at you tenderly, hoping he gets to telepathically tell you that he just wants to be near you.

You suppose you’ve been a little too dramatic tonight. It’s unlike you to be bothered like this, especially since you tend to make the first move because you don’t like wasting your time. But with Jungkook, you just don’t want to screw things up. You don’t want to say things that you’ll regret. But you also don’t want to completely isolate him.

So you smile a little, at least to just acknowledge that he’s there.

Not far away, your three friends congregate.

“So, uh… about those two,” Jimin gestures to where you are. “We said we won’t meddle but we’ll nudge. Can we just push them? The tension is killing me.”

“I know! ___ got jealous when Kook was with your friend,” Mo-eum tells Jimin. “I’m so tempted to tell her she has nothing to worry about.”

“Kook is upset that she’s been ignoring him all night,” Taehyung groans now. “And look at them. They’re just looking at each other like, can one of you just make a move!”

“So… we push?” Jimin smiles.

“I’m gonna shove them towards each other at this point,” Taehyung says.

The three of them approach the couch and it’s at that moment that Seokjin and Hayoung stand up to say that it’s already 12 so they’ll be heading out.

“Okay, Cinderella. I see that Yoongi and Gyu-rim are ready to head out, too,” Taehyung hums. “I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“I’m… gonna go ahead as well,” you say, deciding right then that you’re too tired from all the emotions of tonight.

You’ll sort yourself out after a shower and then you’ll figure things out from there. Maybe text Jungkook and try to be normal.

“Oh, we can take you home,” Seokjin offers.

“Nope, she’s out of the way!” Taehyung exclaims. “Plus, I told her I’d take care of her ride home. You guys could go ahead. Bye!”

You look at Taehyung curiously. Once your other friends leave, he smiles at you.

“Actually, uh, I made the chauffeur take someone else home because she’s really drunk,” he lies. “So I’m booking you a cab and since it’s late, Kook, can you please go home with her and make sure she’s safe and stuff? You can come back here but I also know you’re tired from a full day of classes under the sun.”

Your eyes widen the entire time Taehyung speaks, and you glare at him in question and disbelief. You want to refuse but Jungkook agrees immediately.

“Sure, uh. If that’s okay with her,” he says, looking at you then quickly turning away.

“Yeah, it should be fine. Nothing we haven’t done before,” you state, trying to sound unbothered.

You go around and say goodbye to the others who are still staying then head down once Taehyung gives you the car details. Jungkook tails you and stands behind you while you wait for the car to arrive.

It’s a little tense, as you’re not used to being awkwardly quiet with him. You’re often talking and making fun of each other after a night out and well, comforting him a few other times. So this feels new and different and not the good kind.

You find ways to distract yourself. You look at the street across from you, turn around to see if any other familiar faces are leaving the Club, and put your hand out to confirm if that’s a drizzle you feel, all the while avoiding Jungkook’s direction. You remember he’s there when he says that the car has arrived, and he opens the door for you before he slides in.

“You good?” He asks.

“Yup,” you respond without looking at him.

You stare out the window and sense him looking at you then look away, which is pretty much how this whole evening has been. You feel the tension thicken and the heat rise to your cheeks. You hate that you’re being like this, especially when you decide to look at him, only to find him turned to the window this time.

You sigh to yourself and know that you have to get your shit together, and just as you’re about to say something, the car stops and you’re already in front of your apartment.

The rain decides to fall at this moment, and when you get out of the car after Jungkook, he hovers his jacket over your head and urges you to start walking. You both run to the building damp from the rain, and you tell him to join you upstairs so you could return his hoodie.

He follows you to his apartment with his jacket in his hands, and right as you enter, there’s a sudden downpour followed by loud thunder. You check the weather forecast and it doesn’t seem like the rain will ease anytime soon.

“Stay the night, Kook,” you say as you turn towards him, feeling genuinely worried now.

“Is that okay with you?” He asks with a tinge of sadness in his eyes.

“Of course,” you say softly, as the guilt of how you’ve been acting overtakes you. “I’ll set up the couch.”

You give him a hanger for his jacket and you both follow your routine whenever he’s over. He retrieves his toothbrush and gray towel from the drawer while you put the sheets on the sofa bed and place his hoodie on top. You shower after he does and see that he’s finished the glass of water you put out for him earlier.

“Are you okay there?” You ask before walking to your bed.

“Yeah, thanks,” he half smiles. “Sleep well, yeah?”

“I will. You, too,” you smile back.

And just like that, you’re gone, and Jungkook has never felt you so far away.

Jungkook lies on the bed that you’ve set up for him, always with the two pillows and the humidifier next to the side table because he’s told you once that he sleeps better when he has one on.

He at least knows through this that you don’t hate him, whatever your reason for that would be. You may have avoided him earlier and may have been quiet throughout the car ride and avoided his gaze every chance you could, but maybe he didn’t make much of an effort to talk to you either. He wasn’t sure how to, and with his feelings intensifying everyday, he just doesn’t know how to go about this the right way.

He could do that now, perhaps break the ice and get even just a small conversation going until you’re both acting normally again. But it’s late and you’re probably tired.

He decides to pull his shit together tonight and build the confidence to talk to you tomorrow, which could lead to him admitting how he feels. With both of you in this weird limbo, it’s hard to act without knowing if he’s crossing a line or staying too far behind it. Without the expectations, he doesn’t know if he’s acting as he should or if there’s more he could do.

Jungkook sighs to himself with all the thoughts running through his mind. He just wants to be next to you, listening to you talk about how your day has been and what weird thoughts and ideas you have again.

He just wants to hold your hand. The few times that you did while you were in Jeju all felt so nice and so natural. He hopes they could last longer and he could savor them this time. He wants to cuddle you, too. You always look so comfortable and he already knows he could get rid of his tiredness and stress if he could just hug you at the end of the day.

But there’s nothing he can do now. You’re probably fast asleep and he wishes he was. If only it wasn’t this hot.

He sits up on the couch and gets a feel of the air, which definitely is not as cold as he expected, given the rain outside. You don’t have a cooling fan in sight and the only air conditioner is the one in your sleeping area, which usually seeps into the living room but it’s not strong enough tonight.

So Jungkook removes his shirt, the one that you lent him, leaving him in just his sweatpants, which he’s also tempted to get rid of. But he keeps that on and lies back down, hoping the air would cool a bit and that being shirtless in your living room isn’t too disrespectful.

Not far away, you’re tossing and turning in your bed. You’re afraid you might have screwed up this time, as you recall the sadness in Jungkook’s eyes as you quickly ended the night.

You didn’t annoy him, didn’t talk to him, and didn’t give him the smile you usually do. The times he went home with you from a night out, you were always comforting him and now, it seems he needs comforting because of you.

You think about talking to him, not wanting to end the night the way you did, with awkward and unsure half smiles and just this uncomfortable feeling of not being right with him.

You briefly hesitate as he might be asleep already, but the sweat on your hairline alerts you of the temperature in your apartment. You sit up and wonder why it feels warm inside despite the rain, but you don’t want to think science right now and instead just turn your air conditioner as low as possible.

And then it hits you.

Jungkook is outside, barely reached by the cool air, and you don’t have any fan out there for him. You know he can’t sleep when it’s hot, so you quickly get up and take the few steps out of your sleeping area to your living room only to stop in your tracks.

Because lying on your sofa bed is Jungkook in nothing but his sweatpants, the rest of his body bare, and his tattooed right arm over his eyes.

He must’ve felt hot and removed his shirt, which you don’t blame him for, so you take the fan underneath your desk then tiptoe towards the other end of the room so you could plug it in.

But right as you do, sparks appear, causing you to shriek in panic. Jungkook wakes up and immediately rushes to you.

“___, what happened?!”

“I tried to plug the fan but there were sparks,” you explain. “Let me try th—”

“Did you feel a shock or something?” He worriedly asks as he takes your hand and massages it.

“I… uh, no. I’m fine,” you reply, settling your eyes on your palm that he continues to rub before lifting your gaze to meet his. “I just wanted to turn the fan on because I know you can’t sleep when it’s hot but…”

Your eyes fall to his very bare chest and you suddenly feel even hotter.

“Now I’m scared something’s up with my wiring,” you continue.

“It could be anything. We can check it out tomorrow,” he suggests. “But don’t worry, I’ll be fine here.”

You know he’s trying to appease you but you don’t want him to sleep uncomfortably. So you suggest something else, something that might feel a bit tense but it might also be what eventually will make things feel normal.

“Or you can, uh, sleep next to me, on my bed,” you say, biting your lip in nervousness. “It’s cold there. The air doesn’t get through here much.”

“Are you sure?” He asks.

“Yeah, Kook. It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“Right,” he nods, remembering Sapporo and how it felt being next to you. “Okay then.”

He wears his shirt then follows you to your bed. He lays on one side and waits until you’re lying down as well. He wishes you goodnight and closes his eyes, hoping that would help quell the mix of nervousness and excitement he’s feeling. He needs it to keep himself from blurting everything to you at this hour. Maybe all that could wait.

But something prompts him to open his eyes, perhaps that need to see you again before he falls asleep. And as he turns his head, he sees you lying on your side, the covers tucked under your chin, and you, still wide awake, looking at him.

Jungkook catches you by surprise, prompting you to pull the covers over your head and hide under the blanket, just in case he’s asleep but his eyes are open, which apparently happens.

But he is, in fact, awake because now, he’s attempting to pull the blanket down, as if knocking on your built up wall, asking you to come out.

So you do, as you slowly reveal yourself and find him lying on his side now, too, facing you.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“I, uh,” you start, unsure how to say everything and if you even should at this time. “Yes?”

You wanna apologize for how weird you’ve been but that also means you’d have to tell him you like him, and that also means explaining how you got to this point and then saying what you want to happen now.

You’re not even sure if he feels the same way, so you’re now also thinking of what to say in that situation. You basically made it impossible for him to cop out because he’s literally about to sleep next to you, and now you feel stupid for even making him stay.

But you also can’t go on longer being this awkward around him. It doesn’t feel right. And now that he’s here, you’re able to see him up close again, which you’ve been wanting to do all night. And you just—

“You’re not hard to read, you know that, right?” Jungkook chuckles as he settles in his position more comfortably. “Your face has like, a dozen expressions all at once.”

“I just…” you start, your mind bouncing from one thought to another, being pulled to different scenarios and scripts of how you’re going to go about this.

You sit up from the bed and lean against the frame.

Your face distorts and this prompts Jungkook to laugh again. He sits up and faces you.

“So, are you gonna share even just one of the million things that are in your head right now?” He asks.

“Fine,” you groan, knowing that there’s really no other way but to go through it.

You’re just gonna have to face the consequences of what you’re about to say, whatever it is. And that could include kicking yourself out of your own apartment out of embarrassment.

“I know it seemed like I avoided you all night and well, I did,” you start.

“Yeah, you did,” he hums. “I wasn’t sure what I did. I wanted to ask you and—”

“You did nothing wrong. It was all me,” you shake your head. “I said something stupid early on and I was just trying to get my shit together and then I saw you with that… friend of yours from middle school and I… got scared. And then I just acted weird all night. It was really silly.”

“Why were you scared?”

“I believe in serendipitous encounters. And that felt like one. One that could… lead to something more,” you say softly, like a whisper, afraid to manifest it into the world.

“And why would that matter?”

You close your eyes and think that this is it. Of all the times that you asked a guy out because you told them you were interested in them, none of those made you feel nervous. This time, you’re feeling every possible emotion all at once and you just want Jungkook to keep you steady.

“Because I… feel… something… for you…” You stutter, avoiding his eyes because you’re unsure if you want to know his reaction or not.

“Care to elaborate?” Jungkook asks, not wanting to rejoice just yet and instead bask in this feeling of being on the cusp of something more with you. That’s if you mean what he hopes you mean.

“It’s, uhm…” you try again, knowing you’re gonna have to suck it up.

You mentally smack yourself in motivation. Better to just say it all out here than delaying it.

“I guess it started with a moment when something felt different. And then I woke up the next day and I was just thinking about you, wondering how your day’s been and then wanting to hear you actually talk about it,” you ramble. “And then I thought, oh I want to actually see him, and then I do and then suddenly my heart’s doing this weird thing that it’s never done around you and then I’m clammy and nervous but also… happy? And then I try to look at you but I can’t because now you’re like, attractive to me and I never thought that before and–”

“Wow, way to tell me I’m ugly,” he teases to mask how nervous and excited he is, even with everything you’d just said that also makes him want to leap for joy.

“No! That’s not what I mean,” you backtrack, smacking his chest and then apologising when he yelps in pain, although you doubt he actually felt that, but you say sorry anyway. “What I meant was that you’re obviously objectively handsome but that… that’s never affected me before but now it does and–”

“How is it affecting you now?” He pushes.

“It’s making me giddy!” You yell, surprising you and him, but you continue. “Like, fuck you’re handsome but also, since when were you this handsome and what the hell am I supposed to do about it? And so when a girl is next to you, giggling and touching your arm, I’m like, of course she also thinks he’s handsome and then they’re gonna hold hands and date and shit and that makes me irrationally upset and like my tummy wants to explode and– stop smiling!”

“I’m sorry I just…” he smiles softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me handsome. It’s just nice to hear you say that.”

His heart melts at the pout you give him, and he just wants to get to the part where he confesses his feelings but he also can’t get enough of you rambling like this.

“So, when have you started feeling this way?” He asks.

“Jeju,” you mumble. “Maybe before that. Probably on the plane or something, I don’t know but… yeah,” you continue, looking away and sighing.

He’s drawn this out so much and you internally smack yourself again because you definitely did not think this through.

“Look, if you don’t feel the same way, it’s totally fine. I can handle rejection. Let’s probably buy some more alcohol because I don’t have enough and I would need a lot so I could pass out and forget this ever happened,” you blurt out. “And then I’m just gonna have to not show my face to you for a while but I’ll get over it, really.”

“Why would I want that?” He asks, his earlier cheeky expression now replaced with an incredulous one. He nudges your knee so you’d look at him. “And why do you think I’d reject you?”

“Because!” You smack his chest again in reflex. “Accepting the worst is my way of coping. And you’re not even saying anything. You just keep asking questions. Are you a researcher? You’re not, so why do you keep–”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He raises his hands in submission but flashes you a shy smile. “I’m not doing this right. I guess I just wanted to hear you ramble about how much you like me.”

“Why?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“It makes me think I’m not crazy, since I feel the same way.”

“What?!” You yell again, something you realise is a defense mechanism of yours this time to drown out the sound of your beating heart that he can probably hear.

“I feel all of that - wanting to know how you are, wanting to see you, then wanting to see you again, feeling my heart do these weird things whenever you smile at me or pinch my cheek or lean your head on my shoulder,” he explains, and now he’s the one who can’t look at you in the eyes. “I woke up one morning and just had you on my mind. The whole day,” he continues.

“Since when?”

“Sapporo. Maybe before that. Probably when you stood up to my ex or something,” he echoes your words.

“That was half a year ago, Kook,” you say, the reality hitting you that he already liked you when you started getting confused. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Well, I was dropping hints,” he admits. “Driving you around, saying that I want to spend more time with you, texting you… I even sent you that sunrise picture from the school trip and said that Jeju was better and well, I assumed you knew it was because we watched it together then.”

“I…” you try, although you’re unsure what to say.

In hindsight, he was doing a little more than usual, but you were blinded by what was normal for you and didn’t want to delude yourself, even as you were thinking of all the worst possible outcomes.

“And I didn’t wanna risk it,” he adds. “I mean, it was a risk keeping it either way. You could one day just say you like some guy you met at a cafe because, well, you believe in whirlwind romances and serendipitous encounters, like you said. But I also thought to let you settle into me, you know? The way I learned how to settle into you. And maybe prepare myself for a possible rejection in case you didn’t feel the same way.”

“Well, I confessed first,” you point out. “Were you gonna tell me if I didn’t?”

“Yeah like, tomorrow morning or something,” he laughs. “The feelings just kept growing. But I didn’t want you to feel pressured or anything. I still value our friendship, even if I want more.”

“Well, I don’t feel pressured to like you back given what you feel since, well, that’s what I feel, too.”

“Good,” he chuckles, thinking how ridiculous but so on-brand your confession to each other is. “So does this mean we’re dating?” He cocks an eyebrow, wanting to now jump to that part where he gets to express all that he feels to you in different ways.

“I guess,” you shyly nod, then giggle when his smile causes his nose to scrunch and his eyes to sparkle under the moonlight. “That’s the logical next step, right?” You ask, slowly inching your legs closer to him.

“It is,” he nods, shortening the distance between both of you this time, even if he’s still in disbelief that this is really happening. “Is there any other logical next step we should take? Like, I don’t know, kiss or something?”

“Ah, so that’s what you want to get to right away,” you laugh.

“It’s just one of those things that I woke up one day and thought to myself I wanted to do,” he admits. “And hold your hand, stuff like that.”

“Yeah, me too,” you respond, biting your lower lip in response to how his eyes keep darting to them.

“Okay then, that settles it,” he says, his voice now low that it causes your stomach to tangle in knots, especially when he leans closer to gently boop his adorable nose against yours.

“Still wanna get drunk and forget about all this?” He teases as he looks you in the eyes.

“Depends on how well you kiss,” you tease back.

“Oh,” he grunts. “You’re gonna challenge me like that, huh?”

His look turns lustful as he shifts his body and slowly lowers you to lie on your back. He hovers over you with his one arm above your head while the other gently lays on your waist.

Much as you want to push his buttons, especially with the obvious hunger in his eyes, there’s still that tinge of softness that you hold onto.

“Definitely not a night I’d want to forget,” you whisper. “You can kiss me now.”

He savors your features, and much as he’d wanted to hungrily kiss you all over just seconds ago, you look so soft that he wants you to experience all his gentleness tonight.

And that’s what he does, as he delicately places his lips against yours and he feels you smile into the kiss.

It’s wholesome and languid, as if you’re testing the waters and convincing yourselves that this is really happening. It’s like you’re slowly familiarizing yourself with what could be your everyday, but it’s hypnotic just the same.

He pulls away and all he sees is this tenderness in your eyes that he’s never seen on you before. You thumb his cheek as your eyes map his face and he’s overwhelmed by how much you’re savoring him. The gentleness after all your intensity is what he likes most about you and he gets to see and experience that up close.

You pull him for a kiss now and it’s deeper, hungrier, as you take control this time. Your tongue seeks entrance, something he immediately grants, and you moan at the pleasure, at the high it gives.

Because that’s what kissing him feels like, like you’re up in the air, your mind dazed yet filled with so many thoughts and nothing all at once. Your hands travel to his back and you pull him down while you push against him, feeling his body react to this intimacy, to this intensity. You feel like you’re running out of air but that you also can’t live without this.

And then you’re able to breathe and you feel empty and full at the same time. And really, really giddy. Your heart is racing from all that. Jungkook kisses you so good, you want to do it over and over again.

You pull away and kiss his cheeks. He giggles before removing himself from you then lays on his side. He props himself on his right arm and you turn to face him.

“This is weird,” you say.

“You say that after kissing me like that?” He asks incredulously. “You’re really something, huh?”

“Excuse me, what does that mean?” You gasp.

“Just seemed like you enjoyed it a lot,” he teasingly shrugs.

“Yeah, and it seemed like it got you excited, too.”

You gesture down and he laughs. You definitely felt his dick poke your belly earlier and you’re proud of yourself for being able to keep it together.

“Can’t help it. I mean, I’ve been thinking of doing that for a while,” he says so casually, and it makes your heart race once more. “But I guess it might take some getting used to. You’ve always been affectionate to me in a playful, let-me-annoy-Jungkook type of way,” he laughs.

“And you’ve always been affectionate to me in a let-me-help-this-helpless-woman type of way,” you laugh back.

“I guess massaging your weak legs and giving you piggyback rides give off that vibe,” he hums. “That changes now, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” you smile then kiss his lips again. “I’ll have you know that I’m very affectionate. I… I need to feel it, too.”

“I know,” he says, softly brushing your cheek. “And I’ll always give that to you.”

“Good,” you say, yawning now.

He chuckles at your sleepy eyes. He lays on his back and nudges you to hug him. You do, and you start talking about what you’ll do tomorrow until you fall asleep mid-sentence.

Jungkook laughs again. It’s just like Sapporo, but tonight is so much better, he thinks, as he wraps his arm around your shoulder and you snuggle even closer to him.

He’s settled in this home and so have you, and he can’t be any happier.

You wake up with the sun in your eyes, and you think it might be really up there by now for it to be this bright.

You lift yourself to look at Jungkook, still adorably sleeping and you’re reminded that last night really happened, and you’re not imagining things anymore.

You smile to yourself at how it all unfolded and that regardless of how, you got here, and you really don’t wanna screw this up.

You turn to the other side and try to get off the bed for your morning routine, but strong hands pull you, flushing your back to his taut chest. You’re engulfed in his arms now and you sink into it even if you say you’re gonna heat up water for the coffee.

“Coffee can wait,” Jungkook mumbles in your ear, as he lays his leg over yours, giving you no chance to get away.

And you don’t really want to, not when he’s holding you like this and his morning raspy voice is giving you the shivers.

“But I wanna face you,” you whine.

So he loosens his hold and you turn around to face him, only to be suffocated by his chest so you complain again that you can’t breathe.

“Make up your mind,” he groans, but you just laugh and adjust yourself despite him tightly wrapping his arms around you.

And it’s nice, you think, how despite the initial weirdness of being intimate with a person you’ve only been platonically affectionate towards for years, this moment feels natural. It feels comfortable and safe and a place that you could easily slot yourself into and it’ll feel right.

You shift again so you could look at him, this time with the sunlight brushing his face and he looks just as beautiful. You don’t fight the urge and you kiss his cheek, then his jaw, then his neck. He’s groaning then giggling in response and he tickles you in retaliation so you bite his nose and he groans even louder.

“Did you just bite my nose?!” He looks at you incredulously.

“Couldn't help it,” you reply with your puppy eyes that he’s so weak for. “It’s so cute.”

“I never knew if you were just making fun of me or what,” he chuckles.

“I’m endeared by it,” you state. “Like, I just want to squish your face all the time. And now I want to keep kissing it, too.”

“Kissing’s good,” he hums.

You smile at him, kiss his lips, then scurry off the bed to heat water and wash up in the bathroom.

Jungkook finally lets you go and laughs to himself at how silly he feels over wanting to hold you a bit longer, even if he’d done it the entire night. He woke up to your kisses and there was no better way to start the day, and he’s afraid to get used to this because he knows he’ll keep looking for it.

But he can think about that later on. Right now is what matters and being able to act how he wants around you and express what he feels is freeing. He can still tease and make fun of you then hold you right after.

He stretches his arms as he familiarizes himself on your bed. He looks around and gets to take in your space, the one you’d quickly let him into.

You have enough plants in your sleeping area and he knows it’s Mo-eum who comes over to make sure they’re all alive. You have some art pieces that he knows Taehyung got for you, and there are some cute and playful trinkets that Jimin buys you for fun.

He sighs at his absence until he spots it - the snow globes he bought for you during your Sapporo trip, perched on the shelf of your desk next to a group picture in the snow.

You made space for him, he thinks, and he knows you’ll keep doing that to each other from now.

His thoughts are disrupted when his phone starts to ring and he sees that there’s a group call incoming so he picks it up. Taehyung looks like he’s on a boat, Jimin is in his car, and Mo-eum is at her parents’ house, as Jungkook can hear them bickering in the background.

“Oh, Kook picked up,” she chirps. “I wonder if ___ is still asleep.”

Jungkook disregards her comment and instead asks what everyone is up to. They share where they are and Taehyung says he just wants to check up on his friends after his party, which he does all the time.

“Where’s ___?” Jimin asks this time. “She did say she got home last night. Speaking of which, Kook! What happ—”

“Were you looking for me?” You ask, as you pop up on the screen cuddled next to Jungkook.

It takes a while for it to process but you slowly see your friends’ faces turn from curious to surprised.

“Oh my god, are you two fucking?!” Jimin exclaims.

“Better. We’re, uh, we’re dating,” you say, giggling shyly.

“Fucking finally!” Jimin yells. “I knew it was gonna happen. My senses are never wrong.”

“See, ___. You had nothing to worry about seeing Kook with a girl last night!” Mo-eum adds.

“I actually lied about my driver taking home a drunk friend last night,” Taehyung smirks. “We needed a way for both of you to be alone.”

“Oh my god, you’re all so dramatic,” you playfully roll your eyes. “Well, thanks for scheming then. It rained and my fan sparked and I told him he could sleep on my bed and I got all weird then boom, we’re here!”

“That’s… one way to put it,” Jungkook laughs. “But yeah, she confessed first and here we are.”

You pinch Jungkook in response and he yelps in pain, but you do express your agreement.

“Who’d have known he’s been crushing on me for months, huh?” You shrug.

“I did,” Taehyung exclaims. “Kinda sensed it in Japan but I didn’t ask him until after.”

“What the— well, you were kinda sus,” you hum.

“You mean like, leaving you to your alone time? Making Kook give you a piggyback ride? Yes I was,” your friend laughs.

“Well, now you can stop ogling him in secret and just do it shamelessly,” Jimin smirks. “Kook, did you know she was losing her mind over your body in Jeju? She even hit her head on the boat because she panicked seeing you half naked.”

“Park Jimin, you fucking brat,” you cuss him, earning you his sickly sweet teasing smile.

“Oh, so that’s why,” Jungkook says. “I thought you were just perpetually zoning out.”

“She was. Because you were half naked!” Mo-eum reiterates.

“Okay guys, I think he got the message,” you groan at your friends.

“Hmm. I didn’t know all that. Let’s do something about that later then,” Jungkook whispers in your ear.

Your cheeks heat up and you shyly smile, prompting Taehyung to state that you’re being freaky already.

“Oh shush. You were all pushing for this,” you counter.

“Yes, we were. You both looked like idiots from this side,” Taehyung laughs. “But thanks to the universe, I guess. We were trying hard not to meddle.”

“Well, you pushed a bit but this still happened,” you say softly now. “We’re uh, still getting used to it and it literally just happened last night.”

“So… are you announcing it to everyone during Tae’s lunch tomorrow?” Jimin asks.

“I will if you won’t,” Taehyung states, and you laugh and say that how you’ll act will give it away anyway.

“Okay, then. That’s another celebration on the list,” he smiles. “Well, I better go. I just wanted to check if our nudging last night resulted in something and it did. See you guys tomorrow!”

You drop the call, not without Jimin smirking and teasing and praising the heavens right before it ends. You and Jungkook laugh and share that that’s exactly how you expected the call with your friends would go.

“So… you have a thing for my body, huh,” he teases.

“It’s not so bad,” you nonchalantly hum. “But hey, that was literally the last thing I noticed, okay? I like you for your heart. And your cute nose.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” he laughs.

You kiss his cheek before pulling him off the bed.

“I heated water for our coffee. I like how you make it,” you smile sweetly.

“Okay, Princess,” he teases. “I’ll make us coffee, then.”

You decide to head out for lunch at a cafe right after. It feels natural going on a ride with Jungkook, laughing and talking throughout the drive that he insisted on doing, and then choosing different dishes so you could try more things.

Even holding his hand feels natural, even if it’s something quite new. You reach out and he’s right there, looking for you, too.

He’s also used to how you are whenever you’re out. You turn to him to ask about a store you want to check out and he’s dragging you there a second later. You go to the supermarket and start blurting things you want to eat and he’s putting ingredients in the cart right after. You pass by a dessert stall and he gives in with just your smile.

It’s barely been a day but this already feels like a dream. You think that throughout your friendship, he’s always been the attentive and dependable one. You don’t doubt that he’ll continue being those things now that you’re dating, but you also wonder how you’ll be. You could only hope you could be someone he could depend on, too.

You return to your apartment and unload your groceries. You decide to head over to his place to spend the night, so you pack some clothes and drive there. You’ve been there a few times but now you get to settle in it, too.

He tells you to sit on his couch once you arrive while he cleans up his room. He obviously didn’t expect all this, and he wants to make sure you’re comfortable in his bed later on.

You offer to help but he doesn’t let you, so you watch from your seat as he goes in and out, taking out his sheets to launder, vacuum cleaning the floors, and putting on the humidifier with the patchouli scent that you like.

Jungkook is larger than life in the simplest and purest of ways. You remember a conversation you had months ago about how you both change lives differently. You do yours through research that affects programs and policies while he does it one student at a time. You give your whole self to every project that lasts months or years, while everyday, Jungkook shows up for his kids to teach or to just be there for them.

He possesses a quiet passion that’s constant and unchanging. It’s comforting in its persistence, as evidenced by how he stood by you as a friend all these months, even if he had already felt differently. It’s one you feel blessed to have witnessed all these years, and you’re now at the cusp of receiving it, as you already know that he will be exactly what you need him to be at any moment.

This is when the fear creeps in and you’re new to this. When it comes to your relationships, you don’t think this much. It’s the one aspect of your life that’s dictated by feelings alone so once it stops feeling right, you cop out.

But you don’t want to do that this time, not with Jungkook who deserves so much, and you start to question your worthiness.

“Your mind’s going places again,” he says, disrupting your thoughts.

There’s no teasing tone this time, but a bit of worry and comfort.

“Do you wanna share them with me?”

You nod, knowing that if there’s anyone who’d understand and assure you, it would be him.

“Come, sit on my lap,” he says, as he takes a spot on his couch.

“Why?” You ask.

“Because if it’s as serious as it looks, then I wanna make sure I get to hold you when you talk about it,” he answers. “And if, for some reason you wanna walk out that door because you’re scared or something, I could at least hold you down and make you stay. Because I really want you to, regardless of what you’re thinking.”

You nod, realizing that he could see right through you. So you take up his offer and climb on his lap.

“I’m… I’m a lot to handle, Jungkook.”

“I know,” he smiles.

“Kook, I mean it. I get chaotic and unhinged. I complain a lot, all the time. I have moments of shutting out and shutting down and I get so into my job and I let it get to me and I…” you explain.

Your heart races at the expression of all your flaws and vulnerabilities. Jungkook has seen these sides of you but to have him see them up close? To be at the receiving end of those? It’s quite terrifying.

“I’m just a lot,” you finish, bowing your head in shame.

“Why do you think I like you?” He questions, tilting your chin to face him. “It’s because of all those. And the fact that you’re fiercely loyal and unapologetic and funny and gentle and caring. You’re a good person so yeah, you’re… a lot, whatever that means for you. For me it just means that you’re… you. And I like all of that. That’s why I’m here, you know?”

You go from smiling to wanting to cry. None of your partners ever assured you that way, but you suppose you were never scared enough to let them know the things you fear or worry about. You were never that open or honest. You weren’t sure if you trusted them enough to accept all the vulnerable and raw parts of who you are, and things ended before they could reveal themselves.

“Plus, you’re not the only one,” he continues. “Do you think you can handle me?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You chuckle.

“I’m a lot to handle, too, ___. I tease a lot and I get reckless sometimes. I live life the way I want and do whatever I want. I shut out and shut down just like you but I also get clingy and I… like having the attention of the person I like. I can get insecure and jealous sometimes and I hate it,” he admits. “And I feel too much but I’m not good at expressing that, especially in words.”

“You just did though,” you point out.

“Not all the time. But even then, I could be a lot for another person, I know that. So whatever you’re worrying about, I worry about that, too.”

“I just don’t wanna freak you out. And I don’t want to freak myself out.”

“We’ve known each other for years and I know dating a friend isn’t really your thing. But being friends for as long as we have means I’ve seen so many sides of you and I’ve adjusted to who you are and I’ll keep on doing that, the same way you’ve adjusted around me and will continue to,” he assures you. “You’re not gonna freak me out, ___. You’re already everything that I want.”

“Okay,” you say softly, feeling like you can breathe lighter with every assurance he gives.

“But how are you freaking yourself out?”

“Because this is all new, Kook,” you say. “I always feel so intensely and then the fire runs out but with you I… I feel everything, the intense and the not so intense feelings. There’s this desire for you, like I wanna rip your clothes off and do things to you but I also feel endeared by you like I just wanna keep you in my pocket and make sure nothing hurts you. I admire you for so many things and I want you to achieve everything you want in life. I wanna take care of you but I want you to take care of me, too.”

He chuckles then smiles then softens at your words. They sound exactly like you, and he wishes he can say everything the way you can, because he feels all those things just the same.

“There’s so much more I feel that I can’t even put into words, like they just came out of nowhere but they also feel so familiar because you’re comfortable, Kook. You’re my comfort and I’ve just never felt this way before,” you add. “I’m afraid to lose you, and it just all hit me today and that… that freaks me out because I don’t want to let you down.”

“And you won’t. I mean, it’s a relationship, ___. Things will get hard and there’ll be disagreements and challenges but we’ll get through them together, okay? You’re my comfort, too, and I don’t want to lose you. I don’t plan on screwing this up.”

“Me, too,” you shyly smile. “I really like you. Like, holy shit, I really do.”

“That’s nice to know,” he chuckles, enjoying the way you’re so honest about this. “I do, too.”

His hands that were holding yours drift to your side, caressing your thighs then making their way to your hips to pull you closer. His eyes turn lustful as they flit to your lips and you just know your eyes mirror them, as the intense desire gradually overtakes you.

You kiss him so deeply that you feel it everywhere. Your mind screams of how much you want him, your heart is beating insanely fast, your skin burns with pleasure at his touch, especially when his hands sneak under his hoodie that you’re wearing, and you feel all that and more in your cunt, pooling in essence and desiring him even more.

But you stay right where you are, wanting to be able to control the emotions so they don’t control you, wanting to be sure you don’t get lost in all of it that you’re unable to pay attention, to appreciate, to savor.

You pull away, your glassy eyes meeting his, and he smiles softly at you and you know he understands. You hug him tightly and you both stay there, letting the gentleness take over this time.

Jungkook prepares dinner not long after. He makes his version of makguksu, making sure yours caters to your low tolerance of spicy things, and bakes pork belly in the oven.

You watch him work around the kitchen, feeling your heart swell at just seeing him be him. It almost makes you feel silly that everything he does triggers something in you - either a cuteness aggression or intense desire - but it does.

You suppose if you’d paid attention much sooner, you would’ve been losing your mind a long time ago but then again, you probably wouldn’t have been the right person for him then. The thought terrifies and comforts you. You’re reminded of what Hayoung told you in that cafe during your Jeju trip, about wanting to be the right person for each other at the same time.

There’s a lot of fear you’re bringing with you and Jungkook mentioned earlier about the baggage he carries after his failed relationships. Without saying it, you made another unspoken promise to each other of letting all those go.

“You okay?” He asks you as you’ve zoned out on him again.

“Yes, just thinking of how much I like you,” you beam at him before hugging him and kissing his cheek.

“You’re cute,” he giggles then kisses your lips.

You feel hot all over again and it’s this mixed feeling of desire and endearment all at once. You suppose it’s something you’re gonna have to get used to, and you wouldn’t mind it at all.

He lets you taste your sauce and you insist that a hint of more heat won’t hurt, so he adds a tiny squirt and sets that aside. He serves the meat on a tray and lets you take your seat. He brings out a whiskey bottle, the one you got him from Sapporo, pouring you a glass each.

“A memento of our friendship,” he says, echoing your words from not long ago.

“I…” you start, laughing at the memory. “I meant that. But I also hoped I didn’t draw a line that day.”

“Not necessarily. And I knew what you meant,” he smiles. “But our friendship got us here, ___. That would always mean so much to me, even if we didn’t end up dating.”

“I feel the same, Kook,” you smile back.

Dinner ends and you insist on cleaning up. You watch a scary movie that has you seated between his legs and curled in his arms. Once it’s over, you’re panting in fear but like you always say, it’s part of the experience. You’re glad that now includes hiding and screaming on his chest when it gets intense, and then laughing about how you reacted right after.

Once you’ve washed up, you enter his bedroom and wait for him to finish with his shower. You look around his room and spot the shelf with photos and mementos. There are some class pictures and a few with the teams he coached over the years; there are several with your friends dating back to college, too.

And then there are the Teacher of the Year awards and thank you letters from his students. You smile at these, as you’re reminded just how much this vocation means to him. You point them out once he returns to his room and you see him blush when you read out some of his students’ words of praise.

“Are you good with little kids, too?” You wonder out loud as you settle on his bed.

“I substitute for the first graders sometimes,” he hums. “They like me a lot. They run to me when I do yard duty during recess.”

“Hmm. I hope I don’t see that.”

“Why?” He asks.

“I might fall for you even more. I can only like you so much, Kook,” you say.

There’s a hint of playfulness there but you also sound like it’s a real problem, and this makes him laugh. You’re endearing when you’re this expressive, and he only hopes he could express just as much as you do.

“I don’t see how that’s a bad thing,” he hums. “I’d like that actually.”

You smile in response, knowing that’s not far from happening.

Like you expected, liking him isn’t hard, and it hit you like a freight train today that you’re feeling so much more for him than you thought you would. He may have liked you first but you definitely fell into the deep end pretty quickly and pretty hard, and you’re learning that despite the initial worries, it doesn’t scare you that much anymore. You’re diving into this head first, and it’s also why you’re trying to pace yourself, trying not to drown in all that you feel.

He turns off the light then switches on the lamp on his bedside. You lie in bed and wait for him to lie next to you, but then he stops himself.

“So uh, I usually sleep without a shirt on,” he informs you.

“I don’t see how that’s a bad thing,” you echo his words.

“Okay. I just wanna make sure you won’t faint or anything,” he shrugs. “I mean, you did admit how much you liked seeing me half naked and stuff. Then again, I can do CPR but I’d rather kiss you while you’re conscious.”

You laugh at his teasing and feel the heat rise to your cheeks, especially when he finally removes his shirt and blesses you with a sight that you definitely have been thinking about.

He’s left with just his boxers on and you can’t help but eye him up and down and bite your lip in the process. It’s different being able to desire him openly and up close. It’s also different seeing him embrace it, as he smirks at you while watching you obviously lust over him.

So you play along.

“I think I’ll be fine,” you tease back. “I mean, I can do that, too.”

You remove your shirt and you watch him visibly gulp at the sight he’s never actually seen before - you, bare, on his bed, in nothing but your cloth shorts.

You cock your eyebrow at him as if challenging him to do something. And you really hope he does.

His lips part as his eyes gaze at your swell breasts. The way he’s looking at you makes you shiver and you feel it everywhere. Your now pert nipples definitely do, and it seems that he’s taken notice, too.

“Hey, keep yourself together,” you tease now. “I can’t do CPR so please remain conscious.”

“I’ll try,” he mumbles, as he makes his way towards you on the bed.

There’s hunger in his eyes and you feel it when he cups your cheek and kisses you fervently. You moan into the kiss but you don’t move, letting your body take in all that desire and spread all over you instead. You remain unmoving, even when he starts kissing down your jaw, then your neck, then down the valley between your breasts.

You know he senses you panting though, but that just urges him to do it slowly, grazing his tongue against your skin and leaving a trail towards your buds. He sucks your nipple, then moves over to the other one, all while he keeps himself steady on the bed with his knees, his one hand loosely holding onto your waist.

He’s slow and gentle, as if he wants to take his time and savor this, too. Perhaps he can sense the pace you want to go and he’s going along with it.

You’re holding yourself back from jumping on him and doing everything right now but you’re learning that it’s not that hard. Sure, the desire to lay down and have him kiss you all over your body until he’s sliding inside you is there, but it’s one you can manage. You want to settle into all this first, and you think he knows that.

He kisses you along the path he took earlier until he’s back on your lips, then he pulls away and boops your nose.

“Hmm. I survived,” he says, prompting you to giggle.

He finally lies down and you do the same. He pulls you close to him and faces you.

“You’re cheeky, aren’t you?” He chuckles. “And unfair. You’ve seen me shirtless so many times so you already knew what to expect.”

“Doesn’t mean my reaction would be any different,” you hum. “Plus, there’s literally no other reason for you to see my boobs before today. But I’ll have you know, this is the quickest I’ve ever shown them to anyone.”

“That’s nice to know,” he laughs. “And it’s an honor. Thank you. They’re very beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like them.”

He laughs again and you like that despite this very new thing you both have going on, the comfort and playfulness haven’t gone away. You’re just bolder and flirtier now and that’s the fun part of it.

He props himself on his right arm as you talk deep into the night. You continue your narrations of the past trips you’ve had, starting from Chungbuk last fall when you spent a lot of time together, to Sapporo in winter when things had already changed for him, and then to Jeju not long ago when things had changed for you.

The more you talk, the more everything makes sense. You used to be so averse to the idea of falling for a friend because the progression of feelings over time didn’t really make sense to you. Like your friends said, whirlwind romances were all you knew.

But being friends with Jungkook allowed both of you to get to know each other with no ulterior motive or hidden desire. It was pure and natural and you suppose that’s how you learned to adjust to each other, to understand each other, and to know how to be what the other person needs.

The whole time you talk, his hand mindlessly caresses your bare torso and takes your hand. You can laugh and tease each other and remain where you are. It lets you pay attention to the sound of his laugh, to how his eyes sparkle, to the dip on his cheek when he smiles, and to how gentle and caring he is.

You fall asleep against his chest and in tangled limbs with your heartbeat on pace with his.

Jungkook wakes up to the sight of you still bare next to him with your arms bent upwards. You look endearing, even if that arm hit his face in the middle of the night.

He laughs to himself. It was bound to happen at one point; he just didn’t think it would be this early.

You’re still in deep sleep and it allows him to bask in this moment with you. There are no inhibitions and worries, just a whole lot of feelings. Tempered in its physical expression they may be, Jungkook feels all of it from his end and from yours.

It’s what he always liked about you, too - that you feel so much and you’re not afraid to show it. You’re giggly and excited around him, blurting out that you like him when you have the chance. It doesn’t really diminish it for him because words carry so much weight for you, and he appreciates it every time you say it.

He hopes he gets to express everything he feels for you. Maybe not in the exact same way but in ways that matter.

You moan in your sleep and turn towards him, reaching out because you always need something to hug, so he pulls you close and you pull him in. Flushed against his chest with a bit of room to breathe, you settle in his hold.

He lets you stay there and he smiles to himself. He’d only dreamt of all this not long ago, and now he gets to live it.

You wake up not long after with kisses on his chest up to his neck before you face him.

“Good morning,” you mumble. “Did you sleep well with my half naked self?”

“Yes, I did,” he laughs. “You hit my face though. That’s a first.”

This wakes you up completely and you look at him in apology.

“Don’t tell me I hit your nose.”

“You did,” he nods. “But hey, I can now say I’m one of the guys.”

“Oh no,” you pout, kissing it. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re good. It’s one of the relationship hazards I was very much aware of,” he laughs. “And I don’t mind at all. I mean, I get to wake up to this.”

You’re lying on your back now and your breasts still make his breath hitch. He kisses them again and he loves the way you heave when he does. He can imagine how much more you’ll react once he kisses other parts of you that he’s been yearning for but the time will come, he thinks.

He’s following your pace, he reminds himself. Perhaps you need to settle into the other intimate acts and he doesn’t mind, not when he gets to experience a different kind of intimacy with you. Such as right now.

Such as walking to his bathroom and brushing your teeth and washing your faces together. And sharing kisses in between drinking the coffee he prepares. And zipping up your dress and hearing you tell him you like how he looks in jeans and a shirt. And having moments of silence then bursting in laughter over some memory while holding hands in the car on your way to lunch.

You and Jungkook let go of each other before entering Taehyung and Seokjin’s parents’ house. You decide you’ll announce your relationship when something related to it comes up, so you shush your friends who do know when they come up to greet you.

You take your seats next to each other on the dining table and look at the local food spread that you know Taehyung will be missing. You control your smile whenever Jungkook passes you a dish or puts food on your plate and you stop yourself from doing the same but then decide it shouldn’t matter so you do it, too.

This is normal between all of you, including leaning on his shoulder because of how good everything is. No one seems to be thinking any different, until the conversation leads to last Friday and what everyone was up to.

Mo-eum and Jimin talk about closing the Club at 4AM and then riding with Taehyung to his friend’s house for his day trip at the lake. Suhyeon shares that she got surprisingly drunk and dragged her boyfriend to the playground where they got soaked in the rain. Namjoon danced all night then fell asleep on Hoseok’s couch.

And then there were the early leavers - Yoongi had coffee with Gyu-rim then drove her home, and Hayoung craved kalguksu so Seokjin made it for her. Your cousin asks you if you slept right away after you got home since you didn’t look that well, prompting laughter from the younger ones, including Jungkook.

“Actually, it was a funny thing that happened,” you start. “Tae, uh, booked me a car and asked Kook to come home with me then it rained hard so I told him to stay over but it was hot so I plugged the fan but it created a spark so I told him he could sleep on my bed… and then I told him I like him and he said that he likes me, too, so now we’re dating!”

Several shocked and questioning pairs of eyes stare back at you and you almost wonder if there’s a glitch in the system.

“She’s not joking. That all really happened,” Jungkook follows up, chuckling at how everyone seems to be speechless.

“Oh my god. Our babies,” Suhyeon finally speaks up and beams at both of you. “This makes me so happy.”

Hayoung hugs you from behind and heads to Jungkook to do the same. There are expressions of surprise and joy and observations of both of you spending more time together.

Hoseok says he didn’t really see it coming but that thinking about it now, it’s not that unexpected because of how well you and Jungkook get along. Seokjin notes that your closeness with the man isn’t the same as with Jimin and Taehyung and maybe that’s also why.

“So, how’s your fan?” Yoongi asks, causing you to snort at his unrelated question but you think this might be a bit of an interesting moment for him, too.

“It’s fine. It just acted up that night and I don’t have any wiring issues,” you state.

“So, this all happened on Friday, huh?” Namjoon asks. “I barely saw you and Kook talking though. What made you admit it?”

“Well, I… saw him with a girl and my mind went all over the place and I guess I got jealous,” you chuckle. “That happens, you know? Sometimes the person you like is just one serendipitous encounter away from finding a person they could be right for and you have to claim your spot, something like that. I, uh,” you continue, glancing at Jungkook as he takes your hand under the table. “I’ve liked him for a few weeks now and I was just waiting for the right time.”

“Well, I’ve liked her for months and I could’ve been one serendipitous encounter away from losing her,” Jungkook shakes his head.

“So, you liked her first and didn’t say anything? Just like Seokjin?” Hayoung laughs.

“Yeah. He liked me first but I fell harder,” you confess.

“Oh, like Hayoung, then,” Seokjin teases, earning him a playful slap from his fiancé who also agrees.

“It runs in the family, I guess,” she smiles.

Seokjin wraps his arm around her shoulder and kisses her forehead. It’s a soft sight, as he wasn’t always this affectionate but Hayoung brought out that side of him.

You often wonder how that happens, how one person becomes more of something because of another, or which qualities of their partner they acquire after some time.

You wonder what you’ll be more now that you’re with Jungkook. Maybe you’ll be calmer and less neurotic. You might actually even be more responsible and independent. Whatever it is, you hope he’ll like you even more. You wonder, too, what traits he’ll start acquiring now that he’s with you.

The conversation continues, as Jimin, Mo-eum, and Taehyung come clean about the little things they were doing throughout the Jeju trip to make sure you and Jungkook spent more time together. You’re amazed at how your friends managed to just nudge but both of you are the ones who still made it happen.

You’re reminded of what Hayoung said about her and Seokjin, how the other could’ve chickened out after someone confessed, considering the good friendship that’s on the line; it’s a lot to lose for something you’re unsure will work out.

But they chose to make it work and be the right person for each other, and that mirrors how you and Jungkook just went for it, too, with neither one of you forcing or rushing it. You glance at Yoongi and Gyu-rim, oddly observant this time around and you hope it works out for them on their own time as well.

Lunch ends and the afternoon is how it always goes. Some people are just chatting and drinking while others are playing games. You’re doing the latter, as you try to beat Taehyung in Street Fighter, which you do, and then he decides you should all play Fall Guys instead. You glance at Jungkook who’s chatting with Hayoung and Seokjin and you could only guess what that’s all about, but you might have an idea.

Jungkook has his eyes on you as he talks to your cousin. A lot of it is about the wedding and meeting your entire clan in less than two months. But it’s also about you and how happy she is that you get to be with someone like him; she even goes as far as welcoming him to the family.

He knows it’s just been over a day but the feeling that all this feels so right doesn’t escape him and he doesn’t want it to. Sure, you’re still in the honeymoon stage and challenges will come your way but with a group of friends like the one you both have, he thinks you’ll be okay.

It’s a thought he holds onto as you finish dinner and on the ride home. You insisted on driving him to his apartment, even if he suggested booking a cab from your place instead but you won, stating that it’s work day tomorrow and it’s better that he gets to rest right away.

You stop in front of his building and though you hate saying goodbye, knowing you’ll see him again and again comforts you.

You turn to him with a pout and your puppy eyes that say you don’t wanna let him go. You laugh at yourself with how silly you are, but he looks at you with a soft smile. He cups your cheek and kisses you, gently at first then it deepens by the second until he pulls away. You sneak a last one on his lips before he gets out of the car.

And then he calls you.

You put him on speaker while looking at him on the driveway from inside your car and laugh.

“Miss me already?” you tease.

“Maybe,” he smiles with his nose scrunched. “Just wanna make sure you get home safe. Stay on the line until you get there?”

“Okay,” you smile back before driving away.

It’s a 15-minute drive but it’s enough time to talk about your respective schedules for the week. You hang up to take a shower and then lie in bed to find a message from him.

[from: bunny Kook] just remembered we have ministry of ed people assessing us tomorrow

[from: bunny Kook] should i wear blue or maroon tracksuit?

[from: bunny Kook] or maybe gray?

You giggle at the messages, as you start to see what he’s like when he’s really comfortable. You can imagine him staring at his closet, frozen in thought, even if all his tracksuits probably look the same anyway. But he’s sharing with you his random thoughts, and this is a man who barely even replies, much less read messages.

But now he’s video calling you and he asks why you’re laughing when you show up on the screen.

“Nothing,” you smile. “I’d go with the gray.”

“Okay,” he says, not even thinking about it.

He lies in bed and talks to you once more and you’re giddy and endeared at how he doesn’t want to let you go just yet. It’s just been two days but you already can’t get enough of each other. And you wish it would stay that way.

He finally hangs up after a drawn out goodbye. You suppose this is what will change with him now that he’s with you, and you smile yourself to sleep at the thought.

You spend most of the week after work with your friends, as the day of Teahyung’s flight draws nearer. You go to an arcade on Tuesday, do karaoke on Wednesday, then play bowling on Thursday. You eat at all the restaurants that he’ll miss, and on Friday, you and Jungkook pick up Jimin, Mo-eum, and finally Taehyung to drop him off at the airport.

It’s not the first time you’ve done this but you suppose so much has happened in between. It’s bittersweet, knowing you’ll all be separated again, even if he’s off to do the thing he loves most in the world.

Taehyung gives each of you a hug. When he gets to you and Jungkook, he claims the big role he played in getting the two of you together.

“I mean, I planned all the trips so… yeah, I was pretty instrumental,” he smiles.

And you give him credit for it. You give your props to Jimin and Mo-eum, too, who somehow managed to keep you level-headed enough throughout all this.

You bid Taehyung goodbye and head to your apartment for some takeout dinner and a night of drinking and talking about how the past few months have been.

It’s later on in the evening when it’s just you and him that Jungkook goes back to the thought that he really could’ve been one serendipitous encounter away from losing you.

You could’ve met someone at Taehyung’s farewell party or one of Jimin’s many cool friends. It could’ve been someone at one of your conferences or a guy ordering the same drink as you in that newly opened cafe near your office.

But he quickly dispels the thought, as he watches you snuggle closer to him as you fall into deep sleep, settling into his hold, like what you naturally did just a week ago when all this happened.

He likes you so much and contrary to what you think, he fell just as hard for you. And the more he settles into this, into you, the stronger he feels that even if you’ve known each other for years, you’ve had several serendipitous moments these past months that got you here.

Maybe it was waking up when you did that second morning in the forest that had you sharing coffee and talking about things. Maybe it was your car breaking down that led him to driving you to Cheonan, or even seeing Si-an at the club.

Maybe it was being seated next to you on the plane to Sapporo or your lightbulb going off. Maybe it was being the lone pair to fly to Jeju at night or the locals telling him about the sunrise spot that had you joining him that final morning.

It could’ve been one or all of them but they led you closer to each other. He doesn’t think there’s a better way of ending up where you did than this - you, tucked in his arms, settled so naturally in his hold, as if you were always meant to be there.

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g1rld1ary · 4 months ago

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long time no see - aaron hotchner x hs gf!reader

wc: 1395

cw: minor drinking

me: first time writing for hotch so sorry if there are characterisation issues!!!! i love this pairing so feel free to send reqs if u want more from them bc they're cuties <33

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“Aaron Hotchner am I dreaming or is that you?” You called from across the semi-quiet bar of some middle-of-the-road restaurant. You weren’t 100% convinced it was really him, but the upright posture and stern side profile brought back a lifetime of memories.

Aaron turned quickly, almost paranoid, but his face flashed through a thousand emotions as he took in the sight of you. He settled on what looked like joy, though it was always a little bit of a gamble with him, especially after so many years apart. The intricacies of his expressions weren’t intimacies you were entitled to anymore.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, reciprocating your warm embrace, “You look great.”

“As do you, Aaron. This suit is really nice.” You ran your fingers along his lapels. It was a gesture probably too familiar for two people who hadn’t seen each other in fifteen years, but seeing Aaron had already had an effect on you.

“Do you live around here?” Hotch asked again, a hand warm on your bicep even as you’d stopped hugging.

“Just moved back,” You answered brightly, “Spent the last decade or so in New York but, you know, my parents are getting older. Thought it was time to come home.”

“I’m glad. It’s really great to see you.”

“What are you up to now? Still—”

“Hotch!” A voice interrupted, “Our table’s ready. Who’s this?” The man was obviously a few years younger than Aaron which made you question their relationship — coworkers was the most likely answer, but they seemed awfully comfortable together. Behind them, you caught a glance of a larger group all looking at you curiously. You weren’t ashamed to say you were intimidated.

Aaron took a long look at you as he considered how to answer his friend’s question.

“An old friend from high school.” He introduced you both, and you took particular notice of the title Morgan was given.

“SSA?” You asked, “Like the FBI? I thought you were going to be a lawyer, Aaron?”

“Your friend is team leader of the BAU,” Morgan laughed as Hotch’s humble nature started to show, “He’s a bit of a top dog around the FBI.”

“I can see that.” You were impressed, you hadn’t imagined your high school boyfriend would end up as an important FBI agent.

“I was a prosecutor for a while,” Aaron conceded to make you feel better, “But I’ve been with the FBI for a while now, I feel like I’m making more of a difference.”

You shook your head with a small laugh, “You’re as good as you used to be, Aaron Hotchner. Tell me, has he developed any flaws since he’s been at the BAU?” You directed the question over to Morgan, whose interested surprise was clear in his expression. Evidently, he didn’t exactly agree with you, though you could see plainly how much he respected him.

“Let’s just say you wouldn’t want to be an incompetent local cop — I’m pretty sure he knows more insults than the rest of the team combined.”

“Will you eat with us?” Aaron changed the subject suddenly, “Unless, of course, you have other plans.”

You glanced over at the novel sitting in your now-vacant seat and didn’t think twice. You nodded enthusiastically, bouncing over to collect your things and return before the invitation could be rescinded.

You tried to stay calm as you approached the immensely intimidating table of FBI agents, all doing a poor job of acting as if they hadn’t just been talking about you.

“Hi,” You smiled, sitting down in the empty seat next to Aaron. You were immediately bombarded with questions. About yourself, your life, your relationship with Aaron. It was overwhelming, but you liked the energy and you liked seeing Aaron all grown up.

It was clear his team respected him, you could see it in every look they gave him, and you didn’t even need to be a profiler to notice it. You were strangely proud of him despite not having been in his life for the majority of adulthood, but you supposed everyone always had a bit of a soft spot for their first love.

“Why did you two break up?” Doctor Reid, the youngest of the group, asked as you all tucked into your food. You looked at Aaron for a long moment, a million memories slingshotting themselves to the forefront of your brain.

“I hardly remember,” You answered finally, “I’m sure it wasn’t a good reason — it rarely is when you’re young. I daresay I was probably jealous of the college girls getting to see Aaron every day whilst I was in AP Lang.”

“You’re younger?” Elle asked with sudden interest, a teasing smile on her lips. You nodded, picking up your wine glass.

“Two years.”

“My man!” Derek cheered and you were sure he would have tried to dap his boss up if it wasn’t so entirely anti-Hotch.

The dinner, though definitely a little strange, was full of joy and you enjoyed it immensely. The BAU were a group of such lovely people, they were immediately welcoming to you. They did, however, make you feel old.

Spencer was practically a child, only twenty-three, you and Aaron had already been broken up for a few years by twenty-three! Elle wasn’t much older, and Garcia and Morgan acted a bit like twelve-year-olds when together. You were told stories about Gideon, an older agent who’d built the BAU, but apparently he’d flaked dinner.

The meal wrapped up, and you couldn’t stop your gratitude flowing out for the wonderful night you’d had. Maybe you were a little bit wine drunk. Luckily the team all reciprocated, expressing fond wishes to see you again.

“Can I drive you home?” Aaron asked as the table began collecting their things and pulling on coats.

“That would be nice,” You beamed, “Just let me pop to the bathroom or I’ll be pissing in your car seats again. Uh, don’t ask.” Garcia giggled behind her hand as you darted off through the restaurant.

“She seems nice,” Elle said, buttoning up her coat.

“She is nice. It’s nice to reconnect with an old friend.”

“She might be nice but she’s not a friend, man. She looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky.” Hotch shook his head at Derek’s accusation, but there was definitely the hint of a smile playing at his lips.

“It’s true,” Reid piped up, “Her pupils dilated significantly when looking at you, she was almost always leant towards you with open posture, and she brushed her hair behind her ear sixteen times during the meal.” He awkwardly reciprocated Morgan’s offered high-five.

Hotch was a perfect gentleman, even when you weren’t dating. He’d given you his arm as you strolled down toward his car in a nearby parking lot and opened the passenger door for you to hop in. When you’d told him the address to your flat he didn’t plug it in the GPS which was inconsequential but hugely impressive.

“Who would’ve thought after all these years we’d be back in the same city, driving around town late at night?” You sighed contentedly, watching lights and buildings pass through the rain-spotted window.

Aaron hummed in agreement, both hands on the steering wheel. You liked to watch them, you always had.

“Let’s not leave it so long next time, hm?” Aaron said as he escorted you up to your apartment door. You didn’t invite him in and he showed no indication of wanting to enter. The night was enough. “It was really great to see you.”

You smiled, a warm, genuine one that had Aaron smiling back. For a moment you saw his eighteen-year-old self in it, the image of him kissing you goodnight after his prom fresh in your mind.

“Aaron?” You called him back and he didn’t hesitate, long strides bringing him back to you in moments. You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, pleased by his gentle surprise, “I really missed you.”

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joeloverture · 6 months ago

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flesh currency | j.m. x disabled!f!reader

masterlist | notifs blog | on palestine

pairing: qz!joel miller x disabled!f!reader summary: you have an arrangement with joel. pleasure as currency for your painkillers. but what happens when he tires of the same old song and dance? warnings: (18+ mdni) reader has chronic pain/uses a cane*, sexual favors for painkillers, dubcon but reader is fully comfortable even with the headspace she's in, drugs (reader takes illegal painkillers, the kind is not described), elements of both game and show joel, ableism (cr*pple), mean!joel, slight intox (reader takes 1 pill before the act but is in her right mind during), smut, degradation, underwear sniffing/musk kink, ass eating/rimming (m!receiving), instructions, humiliation, slight praise, thigh riding/leg humping, tit & ass grabbing, cumplay [no use of y/n] word count: 6.2k author's note: stimky joel. yeah. this is my grossest fic to date but it's also kind of my favorite. there's regressive language packed in here (junkie, etc) but that doesn't align with my perspective on the use of opiods when it comes to patients in pain. hell, im one of them. i hope this speaks to you as much as this is hot for you. thank u @lovesickonmybed for being my rock as always. pics in moodboard arent mine. *don't let this put you off, please. being disabled in the apocalypse is not as far fetched as fungal zombies. it's always useful to read experiences that aren't yours.

“You need to go home, lady.”

The FEDRA fuck glowering down at you is bulky and glistening with sweat. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, chapped lips twisted into a snarl. The hustle and bustle of the mess hall is persistent, a thrum of chatter and scraping utensils that batters your skull. A rag hangs limp from your hands — saturated with dirty water and diluted cleaner.

You lean heavier against your cane and wince as the handle digs deeper into the calloused heel of your palm. “Why?” you ask, tilting your head up.

“Can’t have any fucking cripples slowing us down. You knocked over that spray bottle five separate times. Been counting.” Cripple. The word hurts almost as much as the burning, burning, burning in your legs and arms. Almost.

He gestures vaguely towards the busted spray bottle of cleaner. You hadn’t noticed it fall down on the bench as you were tying yourself into knots just trying to wipe it down.

“But I need rati-”

“Don’t care what you need. You’re slowing people down. Got more suitable workers lined up outside the door. Get going, or I’ll have you removed.”

The spray bottle is capsized much like you, tilted and leaking onto the bench. A needling sensation pedals itself into the back of your knee and you can’t stop yourself from wincing.

You squeeze the rag in your hands and chuck it onto the table before you limp out of there.

Pain isn’t something that happens to you anymore.

It’s inextricable from yourself. Sewn into your muscles, bone marrow, and tissue. Stabbed into the pincushions of your fleshy joints. You’ve become the pain scale, the same one that hang in the FEDRA-installed medical tents.

Usually, your pain is a bearable backdrop to the show that is trying to survive in the QZ. Lately, though, it’s become the centerpiece. Just as inescapable as this hellhole you’re stuck in.

You weren’t always like this. There are flickers in your memory of sob stories on the news. Kids in wheelchairs or dragging themselves along with arm crutches before they even got their braces. Something happened to you after the world ended. Something that derailed you, sent you scattered into a thousand pieces and left you in the shrapnel spray of your own making.

You try not to think about it.

It’s hard not to on days like this, though. There’s books in the semi-refurbished libraries and abandoned bookstores that talk about how people like you used to live. They’d have benefits programs (laden with flaws, of course) that kept them afloat. Caretakers, sometimes. Elevators used to work without generator power. You envy them.

There are endless more in this QZ just like you. Limping, shambling, flailing. Drowning in the black sea of FEDRA suits.

Right now, you’re crawling.

Up the stairs of a derelict apartment building. Trash lines the sides of the stairs, crumpled and mashed into the ground by heavy-footed boots. You tangle your hand in a cobweb and wipe it on your jacket, cane thunking against the stairs as you haul yourself up. When your knee bashes against the edge of a stair, your hands grapple against the air as you fight an invisible entity. A frustrated, exhausted noise crumbles in the back of your throat.

Floorboards creak behind you, and you cringe.

“Fuck are you doin’?”

You roll over and muster a rueful smile. “Hi, Joel.”

The first time you went to Joel, he was your last resort.

“I need something for pain. Anything.”

He’d looked at you like he saw right through you. Now, knowing what you do about him, you’re sure that he did. Like a pane of stained glass that he’d held up to the sun.

He’d rifled through his mattress for a couple minutes. “Got you for sixty.”

You couldn’t do sixty.

When you told him that, he’d only shrugged at you. “Ain’t my problem, kid. Either scrounge it up or quit wastin’ my time.”

“I– I–”

You were never very seductive. Not even before your body turned into… this. This cataclysmic, living horror that disorients you in every waking moment.

You settled for unzipping your jacket. Tugging down your tank top. Showing your tits.

A wordless ordeal, one where your cheeks flamed hot and you felt like he’d taken a scalpel to your skin. But you always felt like that, at least.

“Ah, now we’re talking.” The chair scraped against the floor as he stood, meeting you in two strides. He’d looked at you with heat in his dark eyes, so dark that you could see yourself leaving your dignity in a pile at his feet. He’d reached across the empty space between the two of you and grabbed a handful of your tit, thumbing at your peaking nipple. “A junkie and a whore. You’re cute, I’ll give you that.”

You hadn’t been scared to spread your legs. To let him into the warmth festering in your core. It hurt, all of it did, it always does. But for a brief, blistering moment, when he was balls deep inside of you, the pleasure swelling in your stomach had been enough to dim the lights of the pain.

Since then, you just kept going back. A leech he just couldn’t shake.

“Jesus, girl. C’mon, up on your feet.” He patted you on the shoulder, grabbing your cane for you. He holds his hand out. You swallow your pride and accept the help, letting him drag you up. You wrap your arm around his shoulders and your free hand around the banister, letting him pull most of the legwork. “Stumblin’ around like a goddamn stalker.”

You grumble under your breath, a jumble of words too incoherent to mean anything sufficient. At the top of the stairs, he thrusts your cane back into your hand and heads down the hall without you. You glare at his shoulders before limping after him. One dragging step after another. The tread of your boot dips into a greasy looking puddle.

Joel fumbles for the key into his apartment, and you lean against the wall while he sorts himself out. At least he’s not covered in blood today. There’ve been times where you’ve shown up when he’s fresh off of a supply run, smoking gun sticking out of his waistband.

You use your cane to knock the door shut behind you.

“You’re lookin’...” He surveys you. “worse for wear.”

“Fuck you, too,” you say. A pause, punctuated by casual crossfire outside. “I need more.”

Joel huffs a laugh. “‘Course you do.”

He’s never given you that sort of attitude before. You swallow down the lump in your throat. “Please, I–”

“I ain’t a one man Salvation Army. Everyone’s got needs.”

“I’ll… I can…”

“What? Suck me off? You got a pretty mouth, baby, but I got about twelve girls who can do the same thing.”

“FEDRA won’t let me work,” you blurt out. Sympathy with Joel isn’t even a one way street. It’s a path that hasn’t been foot trodden. “They… they kicked me out when I tried, I’m trying, Joel, I swear I a–”

“Deep breaths,” he says. He folds his arms over his chest and jerks his head toward the slouching couch in the room. “Sit down. Can’t talk to ya if you’re fuckin’ hyperventilating.”

You prop your cane up against the armrest and drop yourself into the cushions. You dig your palms into your eye sockets and suppress a scream.

“I’m working at a deficit with you.”

“I know,” you grit out.

“I put up with a lot, but you’re drainin’ me dry here.”

“You’re right,” you relent. “I’ll find someone else. Sorry… for the trouble.” You reach for your cane again, but then he’s tugging it out of your reach.

“You’re waddling around like a fuckin’ fool flingin’ your legs open for any guy whose got what you need, gonna get yourself killed out there. Lotsa guys have less of a tolerance for girls like you than I do. I’m not runnin’ you out the door.”

“Then what are you doing, Joel?” you ask, hand still hanging in the open, wrapped around the empty air where your cane should be.

He sets the cane in your hand, and you deposit it at your side again. “Givin’ you a wake up call,” he says. “What’re you willing to do for your fix?”

“I…” Just three short months ago, before you’d sought out the much-feared Joel Miller, you would’ve said nothing. Just three months ago, your pain was bearable, livable, mere tinnitus. Now it is a bonfire. Roaring in the kindling of your ribcage. “Anything.” You swallow, worrying your tongue against your teeth. “I just want to feel normal.”

“Tough shit,” he says.

You have nothing to say to that. You only sit there, biting into the inside of your cheek. Knives sink into your skin with each breath. It hurts to be alive, it is anguish to be alive, and you just want to swallow a pill down dry. Enough to dull the edge, enough to make things tolerable. You stare at your feet as the room swirls.

“Alright,” Joel says after a moment. “You look beat, and I’d be a worse man than I already am if I ‘took payment’ now. I’ll give you one.”

Your eyes light up.

“You’re gonna take a quick nap in my room while I pull some strings, yeah? Let it kick in. Then we’ll see about what you can do to earn the rest if you’re up for it.”

Maybe sympathy can be a two way street. You’ve heard everything about him. Seen the occasional wanted poster floating through the street before FEDRA moved on to the Firefly of the week. Likely heard gunshots fired from the barrel of his gun.

“Thank you,” you whisper as he plucks one from a baggie. He drops it in your hand and you can’t help but wrap it in your fist. The inherent value of what he has given you.

He sees you eyeing it, sees you thinking, and says, “Don’t hurt yourself. I’ll wake you in an hour.”

And you do wake in an hour, scar-serrated, gun-hardened hand on your cheek. It’s instinctive to roll away, or at least it should be with someone who’s as bloodstained as Joel. Instead, you find yourself nuzzling into his palm before you’re even fully awake, when the walls of his apartment are only a border of the shapeless dream you’d been having.

“Rise ‘n shine, sleepyhead,” Joel says. He taps you on the apple of your cheek, and you find yourself blinking the crust from your eyes. Your fists go to rub at them. “Feeling any better?”

It’s not entirely gone — it never entirely is. It’s always the sand dollar nestled in the sand. The grain of sand lodged inside of the crevices. The clutch of your high is less of a clutch than it is a hangnail caught on a thread. It’s only a fracturing lightheadedness instead of a backslide into euphoria. You feel perfectly grounded, body taken off of the perpetual razor blade edge it rests on and airlifted onto a sturdy mattress.

“Yeah,” you croak, clearing your throat of any trace of grogginess. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he says. “I got twelve slow release tablets for you. Should be enough to get you strong enough to work the ration lines for a couple days.”

“I promise I’ll make this worth your while– agh.” You say, whimpering as you try to sit up.

Joel keeps you down with a hand on your shoulder. “Oh yeah? And what exactly are you offerin’ me this time, huh? More of those pretty tits? A taste of that leaky little cunt?”

“Anything you want,” you blurt out. A hefty statement with even heftier implications. But just one pill has shredded your pain from glass sticking out of your skin into little pinpricks. A miracle confined to a little circular pill.

Joel cocks his head at you. “Anything, huh? You’d sell your soul for a hit, wouldn’t you? Let me do whatever the fuck I wanted to that pretty ‘lil body of yours?”

A better person, the upstanding salt of the earth, would’ve walked away long ago. But you can scarcely walk on a good day, so all you can do is bob your head at him.

A smirk slices across his face. Joel reaches out to you to grip your chin, thumb pressing into bone. It’s satisfying in a twisted sort of way. Your eyes go all glassy and your lips form a picturesque pout. “Well ain’t that just precious,” he croons at you. “You think you’re the first desperate junkie to offer me the world for a cheap high?”

“No,” you mumble. “But that’s not… that’s not what this is. I have a good reason —”

Joel snorts at you. “Yeah, keep tellin’ yourself that. Might not be the first one to come crawlin’ — literally — to me, but you might be the most pathetic. Tits and ass, that’s all you got to trade. Tell me sweetheart, how long ‘fore those goods wear thin?”

“According to you, they already have,” you fire back.

“Oh, they definitely have,” he says, voice so stony that it’s on the verge of being a leer. “But that don’t mean I can’t squeeze a little more outta you. You see, kid, I got a special request today. Something that requires a… different kinda payment.”

You worry your lip, teeth scraping over skin. You’re already in this deep. There’s so little you have to lose, pride included. Eventually, you take a deep breath and steel yourself. “Please, Joel. Just… just tell me what I can do.”

He leans in close, breath hot against your ear as he hangs onto your chin. “You’re gonna eat my ass, baby. And you’re gonna do it with a smile on your face, you understand?”

You stare, blinking once and then twice. He– you– what? “Excuse me?” you ask, brows furrowed.

“You heard me right, sweetheart. I want to see that pretty little mouth wrapped around my asshole, suckin’ and slurpin’.” He squeezes your chin. “That make enough sense to get through your drug-addled head?”

You squirm under his scrutiny, face heating up as if you’ve been held over an open flame. He��s looking at you as if he’s got you all figured out. Knowing him, he does. After you’re certain his handprint has started to stain your jaw, you say, “...Why?”

He shrugs. “Why not? ‘Cause I can pull any crackhead off the street and shove ‘er down on my cock until snot’s runnin’ out of her nose and her belly’s full of my cum. Can’t just find any girl who’s willing to knock on my backdoor. Takes a real nasty degenerate bitch to do that. And you’re a desperate little druggie willin’ to do anythin’ for a fix. You said it yourself.” He chuckles under his breath. “Seems like a match made in heaven to me.”

You swallow. Work the saliva in your mouth. “I… I’ve never, um–”

Joel’s head goes back with a grating, harsh laugh. “Never ate any ass before? Oh, you’re a dainty ‘lil thing, ain’t ya? Don’t worry your pretty head, sweetheart. I’ll teach you what you need to know.”

“I didn’t think you’d be the type to… want that sort of treatment.” Joel’s rough in bed, yes. Probably less rough with you than the other girls he sees, considering your predicament. You just hadn’t marked him as the type to want anyone near his ass.

Joel laughs. “I sure as hell ain’t. But here’s the thing, sweetheart. I don’t just want your tongue proddin’ around between my legs. I want to see your slutty little face smushed between my cheeks while you debase yourself for your hit.”

And that… makes more sense. This isn’t about his pleasure. It sure as hell isn’t about yours. It’s about him getting off on making you suffer, making you do something uncomfortable, something many would dub unpleasant.

Maybe you are a nasty fucked up degenerate bitch, because slick leaks into the gusset of your panties.

“Think you wanna do that for me?” he asks, dragging his hand from your chin, down your side, to where he gives your hip a light squeeze. “For you?”

“Yeah,” you say, a little breathless and plenty dizzy. Then, when you gather your wits, you nod firmly and speak louder. “Yeah.”

“Attagirl. Knew you were an obedient little pill chaser.” He gives your hip a tiny little smack. “C’mon, strip for me. Show me what we’re workin’ with.”

This part, you’ve done.

You fiddle with the hem of your tank top and lure it over your head before dropping it on the floor. You wriggle out of your bra, letting your tits fall loose. Joel nods his approval as you kick off your boots. You move on to your jeans, flicking the button. Dragging them down your thighs, savoring the hitch of denim on blemished skin. You have no problem showing off for him in this way, heels knocking your waistband down and leaving the pants in a lump on the floor. You’re left in your panties, the wet spot with the evidence of your slick shining through.

“Oh, baby,” Joel laughs. You shiver. “Ain’t even done anything to you… fuck, maybe you were meant to be a little ass eating slut. Filthy thing.”

You avert your eyes, face flaming, body boiling from the inside out. He’s standing hip-level with you, his semi visible in the stretch of his jeans. “Hey,” he says, hand gliding up your side. He taps your cheek with a bent knuckle. “No reason t’ be scared. First time for everything, yeah? Not gonna bite ya.”

You’re not scared. Just demeaned and humbled — exactly where he wants you to be.

He undoes his jeans, zipper snarling as it loosens, and knocks them and his boots off in a pile next to yours. He makes no move to take off his briefs or shirt, just taps your thigh. “Scoot,” he says. You shuffle over. “Gonna lay on my back. Figure that’ll be comfiest for you?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Um, thanks.”

Despite his reputation, despite how he treats you like a fucking cum rag, and despite this being a business transaction, he never neglects your own comfort. He never blocks the door. He never traps you in this situation.

Joel climbs onto the bed, sprawls out among the flattened pillow below. You go back on your haunches before adjusting yourself onto your stomach. You look at him and his rising bulge as he gets comfortable.

“I, uh, what do I–” You’re bumbling, and you know it. Seduction, even after a few transactions with Joel, still isn’t your domain.

“Alright, you little ass kisser in training. Gonna ease you into this. First thing you gotta do is get comfortable with the smell,” he says.

You give him a look.

“Like I said, you’re drainin’ me dry. Soap’s not the cheapest find, baby. Gotta make due. Besides, who needs bar soap when I’ve got your eager little tongue ready to wash me up?”

“Jooooel,” you whine, nose crunching.

“Nuh uh. No complainin’. I’m doin’ you a solid here, unless you’d rather me shove you face-first between my cheeks?” You shake your head, and he raises his brows at you. “Thought so.”

Joel slowly peels off his briefs, and your mouth can’t help but water at the sight of his mostly-hard cock. You remember the heft of it inside of you, the way he’d made room for himself inside of your body. And then your eyes trail lower to how his bulky thighs branch into the meat of his ass.

He hands you his briefs and gives you an expectant look. “Go ‘head. Sniff ‘em.”

“I– really?” you ask. They’re heavy in your hand and the exact sort of thing you’d expected him to wear. An off-white color, discolored by years of sitting around in a post apocalyptic world. A little bit stretched out with a hole in the waistband.

“Really. C’mon, kid, I don’t have endless patience.”

You change you grip on them and tentatively bring them to your nose, inhaling the musk that he’s embedded into the fabric from days of wear. It’s sharp and pungent, but underlined with a faint trace of sweetness. His musk is almost sugary, with the way it cloys inside of your lungs. Your hesitant sniffs turn into fuller, deeper breaths.

A cocky grin crosses his face. “And that’s just the appetizer, baby. Wait until you get a real mouthful of me.”

You whimper into the fabric, snuffling against it. Feeling yourself drift into that floaty, cotton-candy state of mind that you nosedive into whenever you’re with him. You watch, enraptured, as he spreads himself apart. His pucker is nestled in a thatch of hair and skin, tanner and darker than the rest of him. “See that?” he asks “That’s where you’re tongue’s headin’ baby.”

You let out a tiny little whimper. Joel laughs at you and a fresh wave of slick saturates your panties.

“This is the real deal, sweetheart. Go ahead. Give it a whiff.” You dip your head lower than it already is, nerves winding around your chest. You take a tiny, halfhearted breath. “How’re you gonna kiss it if you can’t even breathe it in, baby? Just get your nose in there, first. Think of it as an initiation.” He reaches back and gently grabs the back of your neck, tugging you closer. Before you know it, your nostrils are mashed against his hole, and every breath you take is muddied by him. You whine, a keening noise that traps itself in your throat.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Deep breaths, now. Let me defile that pretty nose.” You listen to him, controlling your breaths and drawing them in deep. “You’re gonna learn to love this. Nasty fuckin’ girls always do.”

You pull back when he loosens your grip on his neck, panting and dizzy off of him. You feel cross-eyed, almost. Swooning over the sensation of being buried between his legs.

“Look at you,” he coos. “Really are just a pathetic ‘lil fucktoy. All worked up and drooling over my ass.”

“I,” you start, but your voice tapers off when you realize you can’t argue that. You are pathetic, damn near slobbering over him just for a chance at pain relief.

“Say it before your mouth gets busy,” he says. “You know what you are, sweetheart. Tell me.”

“I’m your pathetic little fuck toy,” you whisper. You can’t disobey him, not if you want your drugs. But he isn’t wrong. How could he be, when you’re so far underneath him right now?

“And?” he nudges.

“And — I want to eat your ass.” The words come out all stumbling and embarrassed, muffled by your own shame. But they only make you wetter.

He smiles down at you. “Attagirl. Now why don’t you kiss the outside for me. Get used to usin’ that cute little mouth.”

You’re a squeamish person. It’s in your nature; unfortunately a nature that’s contradictory to the nature of the world that you live in. Still, you swallow whatever scraps remain of your dwindling pride and kiss up his sun kissed thighs. You plant your lips above the crook of his knee and poke your tongue out, laying a trail of saliva and heat up to the crease of his thigh. Joel sighs as you draw a spiral with your tongue. You glance up at him through lidded eyes and are almost startled by the unadulterated want that glaze his own eyes.

“Gettin’ closer, baby,” Joel says. His hand goes up to cup the back of your neck, thumb rubbing circles into your neck. “Knew I chose right with you. Got a curious mouth on ya.”

You nuzzle up to his ass cheek, pressing a timid kiss against the swell of it. You bite gently at your lower lip when you separate from him. Your breaths have quickened, now, and he gives the back of your neck a reassuring little squeeze.

“Spread ‘em,” Joel coaxes, so you do. You press your thumbs into supple, fuzzy skin and spread him open for your scrutiny. You can’t help but lick your lips and come to regret it the second he chuckles. “Hungry, aintcha?” And maybe you are. But still, you hesitate when you lean in, taking a deep breath that is entirely steeped in his musk.

“Like a deer in headlights,” Joel mumbles. “Gonna make my hole blink at you or what, baby?”

“You’re crass,” you say, teeth digging into your lower lip.

“What’s crass is how your sloppy cunt is leakin’ waterfalls all over my bedspread.” He smirks at you when you pull a face. “Now go on, baby, I know you wanna eat it right on up.”

You try to ignore the distinct kickdrum of your throbbing clit where it’s buried between your thighs. Your head dips, and you kiss up his cleft. Occasionally, your tongue flicks out. He tastes how he smells. Like the same sweat and musk that everyone has from living in the QZ with an undercurrent of almost honeyed warmth. You lick up the inside of one of his cheeks, pride rushing through your gut when your tongue at the edge of his asshole makes him moan.

“Quit avoidin’ it, sweetheart. I got places to be. Jus’ pretend it’s a peach ring.” You’re dizzy, head swimming off of the sensation of being this close to him in this way. “Give it a ‘lil kiss. Just a smooch.”

You lean in and press your lips against his pucker, a tiny whine lodging in your throat. Joel grunts above you. It’s humiliating, being this low beneath him, this debased. There’s not much further you can go, so you flatten your tongue against his tight hole and spin it around his skin. You’re drooling all over him, tongue sweeping across wrinkled flesh. “Fuck, attagirl, just like that.”

He tastes good. Savory almost. You lap against him, tongue laving across the furrows of his ass. It’s just as satisfactory as the time he’d shoved his cock down your throat and held you down until you were choking and teary eyed. If not more. Because he was right earlier — fewer girls would do this for a fix. And you’re one of them, on hands and knees while your tongue probes his most private place, licks all the sweat and grime from between his cheeks. You can’t help but moan.

“Told you you’d love it,” he says. “Told ya you fuckin’ would. God, you’re a needy little bitch. For your fix… for me.”

You whine in protest, but it comes out much more pathetic than that with your tongue slipping up and down his crack. Your hand goes up instinctively to play with his balls, squeezing and fondling with each pass of your tongue. Joel groans, hips jumping against you. “Yeah, that’s it. Eager slut… feelin’ me up…”

You whimper into him, muffled with how your face is buried between his cheeks. Your tongue lashes out again, whirling around his entrance. Your eyes flutter in time with your cunt. You want more, you’re just as hooked on him as you are on the sensation of being painless. You flick your tongue, lips peppering him with open-mouthed kisses as you work.

Joel hisses as you lightly test his entrance. “God.” His hips jerk again, sporadic. “Fuck — shit,” he groans. “Natural ass licker, aren’t you? Yeah, you are. Oughta tie you to my backside, have you doin’ this all the time.”

You mewl at the thought, thighs clamping together. Your free hand wriggles down to rub at your bare clit. You get two rubs in before Joel kicks your hand away. “Nuh uh. This ain’t about you.” Joel smirks. “All that bitchin’ about it, but you’re pretty fuckin’ horny for your tongue up my ass.” He hikes his legs under your arms. Confusion spreads across your face until he locks his ankles around your back and tugs you face first into his ass.

“Mmph!”

“Don’t suffocate. Be out of a pocket pussy if you do.”

Fuck. You clench, leaking all over his sheets. Your eyes can’t help but roll back.

“Look at you… bet you could get high off ‘a doin’ this if you tried hard eno– ungh.” Joel fully convulses when you wrap your lips around his asshole and suck. “Goddamn. Nasty whore really earnin’ them pills,” he grits out. You giggle into him when you see his cock twitch, precum oozing down the side of it. It leaks between his legs and onto your tongue, and you slurp him up eagerly.

You’re so aroused that it hurts, slick spilling in droves down the insides of your legs while you tongue him eagerly. Your hips rock subtly against the bed, and Joel’s head is too thrown back to notice your violation. He rocks his hips up into your mouth as you wriggle your tongue inside of his hole, probing the tightness of him as thoroughly as you can while he twists underneath you. “There you go, fuck me with your slutty tongue, baby. Get it in deep.” He groans as you drag your tongue along his insides. “Bet you’re gonna be sucklin’ on a pillow later. Thinking ‘bout my ass with your hands between your legs, rubbin’ that cock starved cunt.”

“Bet you’re wishing I’d pound that pussy now, huh? Wishing I’d shoot a load up that messy little slit?” You nod, tongue swiping up and down. You fuck your tongue in and out of him, moaning as you get the smallest friction from the sheets bunched up between your legs. His ankles tighten around your shoulders, holding you down with no escape.

You manage to wriggle in his grasp enough to spat a lob of spit into your hand. You reach up around his waist and wrap your fist around his cock, jerking him. Joel jumps, his hole rubbing against your tongue as he lets out a wrecked moan. Your thumb traces his head. Sounding strangled, he curses, “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Goddammit, you were made to eat ass. Wish I could have your tongue up there 24/7…. Show you off, baby. Bet some other smugglers would love to take your tongue for a ride, but no. Your pretty little mouth only opens wide for me, huh? Whenever I say jump, you ask me how high, dontcha?”

You moan in assent, tightening your grip on his cock as you stroke him. Your tongue works even harder, messy as you draw circles of spit around his rim. You suck with your lips locked around him, watch his abdomen twitch as you do, watch precum ooze from the head of his cock. You collect it on your thumb and use it to work him faster. Your tongue runs laps around him, his eyes fully on you. “God, baby, fuck, I’m comin’, I’m, co–”

With your tongue deep in his ass and your hand wrapped around his cock, Joel comes. Spurts of it leak out, some of it landing on your tits. You whimper and work him through it, through each groan and hitch of his hips, through each spasm and aftershock that coils through his body and snaps at him. His chest heaves as he looks at you, damn near starstruck.

“Grand prize ass eater right here. Nasty bitch, salivatin’ on my dirty hol—”

“Joel, please,” you cut him off, starry eyed all on your own.

“What? Already givin’ you your pills, ain’t no need to beg me for ‘em.”

“I–” you say. “I’m really wet.” You’re teary-eyed, maybe from the action of humiliating yourself, but much more likely from arousal, wound tighter than a coiled snake in your stomach.

Joel groans, and you swear his softening cock gives a mild twitch. “C’mon.” He swings his legs off of your shoulders and jerks his thigh, tapping it with a thick palm. “Get on up here.”

You an hour ago might’ve stood up for yourself, insisting that you at least deserve his fingers, but you right now was just tongue deep in Joel’s ripe asshole. So you scramble to mount his thigh, letting out a choked moan the second your swollen clit makes contact with his sweaty skin. You immediately start grinding yourself on him, feeling your slick squelch between your skin and his.

“Pathetic whore. Bet your tongue still tastes like my asshole, but you like that, don’t you? You like being my disgusting little junkie bitch.” You nod, bunching your hands into the fabric of his cum spattered t-shirt, tugging at it, tugging at him. “God, listen to you,” he says. Your broken-up moans, the sound of your wet pussy leaking and leeching against his leg. Your breaths are charred with the heat of pure, debauched need. It’s lewd, and you can see the shadow of yourself rocking your hips into him.

“Joel, oh God, Joel,” you moan, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you roll your hips. Your clit catches on his skin and he groans.

“Gonna shove your face in the fuckin’ puddle you’re making,” he says. You clench hard enough that your eyes squeeze shut. His hands, once still at his side, move along to anchor at yours. He yanks you against him, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass cheeks. You’re wobbly and woozy, shaking as you hump him. “C’mon, c’mon. You need it, don’t you? About to cream all over your dealer.”

And you are. You’re so, so close, with pleasure strung so tight through your body that it could snap at any second. It’s coarse and ragged, a sort of friction that stings and catches on your insides. Your tongue’s hanging out, you’re leaking all over him, and you’re pumping your hips even faster. He smacks your ass hard enough that your ears ring.

Your head hangs low and you make a noise akin to a kicked puppy. One of his hands moves to your cumstained chest, rubs his cum into your aching, hardened nipple. “Give it to me, you depraved fuckin’ slut. Little pervert, rubbin’ that cute little clit on me.” He tenses his leg, and you’re done for.

“Joel!” you whine as you topple over that edge, flailing, kicking, screaming.

Joel grunts. “Attagirl. Soak me.” He keeps rutting you against him through the aftershocks, even after you go limp and slump against his front. You’re both sweat-slick, and you’re still shaking. A giddiness swipes through your body as you clench and clench. You’re out of your own body. This is a pleasure beyond the pleasures you have known.

Your mouth still tastes like him on the comedown.

You heave for air, winded as you look at him through darkened eyes. Joel pats you on the ass and pushes you off of him. “Oomph.” He grabs you by the back of the neck again, and, true to his promise, pushes you face-first against his thigh.

“Look at this,” he snarls. His thigh is glistening with your arousal and release, viscous and slippery. You whimper as you smell yourself on his skin. “Lick it up.”

That makes you clench again. You stick out your lolling tongue and lave over his leg, scooping up your cum with your own tongue. You whimper and pout at him, and find yourself dizzy with need when he laughs at you.

Then, you hit the mattress and the ceiling seems to spin over your head.

Joel gets up and groans. You think you hear his knees pop. A few footsteps later, and you’re all alone in his bedroom, cocooned in sweat-wet sheets. There’s an emptiness inside of you, one that sticks everywhere. The silence crackles along your eardrums.

“Here,” he says, and then you’re back inside of yourself. Your eyes flicker open and you’re watching him from upside down. He props your cane up on his nightstand and chucks a box of tissues at you. You grab a fistful of them and wipe down your chest, then your inner thighs.

He tosses you your clothes, next. You shiver and tug your shirt over your head with only some difficulty. When it comes to your legs, just lifting one makes it crash back down at your side. You bleat, squeezing your eyes shut through the pain. Maybe riding him had been… overzealous. But the painkillers had made you indomitable — or at least feel indomitable.

“Hey,” Joel says. “Let me help.” It’s a foreign tone from him. Softer than what you’re used to. He redresses you, even laces up your boots for you. When all’s said and done, he pats you on the ass. The silence is a blanket, a warmth of sorts.

“Thank you,” you mumble. “I… I’m sorry I don’t have any more to offer you.”

“Kid,” he says. “I agreed to this. I ain’t mad at you. And, hell, I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that. I’d say it was worth it, even if you’re robbin’ me blind over here.”

He pulls out the baggie of pills and folds them in your hand. “Try to stay safe out there.” You nod at him and lean yourself on your cane as you stand. You swing it in time with your steps.

“I will,” you say. It feels like more of a hollow promise, if anything.

As your hand lands on the doorknob, he says, “My door’s open. Come back when you need more.”

Whether he means more pills or more of him, you’re not sure. Maybe he’s not sure, either. But you’re hooked on something, you think. And you pretty sure it’s not the drugs.

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