#[11 asks left of bunny] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dira333 · 3 months

Text

Things to be sure of - Kazekage Family

part two of "If we have each other" - Gaara x Reader, Shinki & Reader. Shinki's 11, the twins are 4. - tagging @deathbytsubaki for the idea

Summary: Time changes, but some things stay the same

“Nii-chan?” The door opens and Hayato pushes his head through, bright red hair messy as usual. “What are you doing?”

“Packing,” Shinki explains, taking one shirt out of his bag and exchanging it for another. “I’m leaving for Konoha today.”

“Konoha?” Hayato waddles inside, a bunny plush tucked under his arm. “Are we visiting Uncle Shika?”

Shinki halts. He often forgets how little his siblings engage in adult conversations. Not that his parents consider him an adult already, at the ripe age of eleven.

“Yes, you are. But I’m leaving a week earlier. Father is going to take you with him next week.”

Hayato’s pale eyes widen. “You’re going without us?” He asks, voice quivering. Shinki sighs, crouching down in anticipation. Sure enough, Hayato stretches his arms out, wanting to be held.

“Just for a few days,” Shinki mutters into his brother’s hair as he picks him up. “You’re barely going to have time to notice it.”

“But who’s going to read me a story at night?”

Shinki chuckles softly. “Like always, Mother and Father will read to you. It’s like I’m going on a mission.”

Hayato doesn’t seem convinced, his hold tightening, his sand, pale yellow in color, mingling with Shinki’s iron sand as if to say “I will not be left behind”.

Hayato’s still dangling off him by the time you step into his room, freshly ironed clothes in your hands.

“Ah,” you pick your youngest off him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Can you do me a favor, Sugar? Can you get Daddy to eat something? Tell him you need a snack?”

Hayato blinks up at you for a second before nodding, leaving with one last tug on Shinki’s trousers.

“How are you feeling?” You ask, stepping closer. Your hand moves through his hair, tugging a little at a stubborn strand.

He knows you’re referring to more than just him leaving. He also knows that you can catch him lying from a mile away.

“This week, I overheard something,” he starts, putting his bag on the ground to sit on the bed instead. You take the spot next to him without asking, don’t react when his iron sand moves to shut the door. “I doubt they knew I was there. They were discussing who was the best option for the next Kazekage.”

You don’t say anything, just nod your head to let him know you’re listening.

His eyes land on his hands, curled into fists.

“It’s not always the firstborn who becomes Kazekage,” Shinki repeats, “but the one with the most talent.”

Silence stretches out around him.

“Do you feel that you have less talent than Hayato or Honoka?”

He considers it for a moment. Does he feel that way?

“I mean,” he licks his lips for a second, glaring at the floor. “Hayato has no trouble controlling his sand at 4 years old. He’s no victim to violent mood swings or nightmares or-”

He trails off and your arm pulls him in. His head sinks onto your shoulder like it’s meant to be there. Your fingernails scratch at his scalp.

“He’s got two Kekkai Genkai’s.” Shinki continues, his voice now lower. “And even if he didn’t want to become Kazekage, what about Honoka? Surely there’s time for a female Kazekage. Both of them have the blood of the Kazekage running through their veins.”

“Shinki,” you pull away to look into his eyes. “It’s not blood alone that makes someone a parent or a child. It’s not talent alone that makes a great Kage.”

Something like a whimper spills from his lips. You pull him in again.

He’s reminded of nights, spent in this room, his body curled into a ball. Father used to sit with him, quietly, when the nightmares were at their worst.

You’d climb into bed with him instead, let him rest his body on yours, let skin melt into skin, warmth into warmth.

You have dried his tears often enough to know their shape by touch alone.

“Do you question our love for you, Shinki, or do you question your qualifications for becoming Kazekage?”

“Both.”

“You are not even a Genin yet,” you remind him softly. “Yet you are already exceptionally talented. Uncle Kankuro and Aunt Temari are both perfectly capable of becoming Kazekage, but it’s just one position that cannot be shared. Whether you’ll be ready to take your Father’s place or not, I don’t know. But I know for certain that we both believe in you. We are so, so proud of you.”

You wait a moment, probably to let your words sink in.

“As for our love for you, Shinki… I do question it too, sometimes. Because I know that I love you. I know that your Father loves you. But I question if we show it to you in a way that you can understand.”

Your hand's card through his hair again. “You’re my special boy, Shinki. You chose me.”

“Better?” You ask, rubbing his back softly. He nods, pulling away.

“Sorry,” he rubs a hand over his now-dried eyes.

“Don’t apologize. It’s important to talk about these things. Can I do anything else to make today easier for you? I know it’s just one week and good preparation for next year when you’ll have to leave for the Chunin Exams, but if I can do something-”

“Can we have Lunch together?” Shinki asks, cutting off your rambling. “I leave before Dinner, so-”

“Oh, absolutely. I’ll go and convince Gaara right away. At least that way we can get him to eat something during the Day.”

He joins in your chuckles, leans into your touch when you pat his shoulder one last time.

“I love you, Shinki.” You kiss his cheek.

“Love you too.” The door closes after you with a click.

Gathering himself, he grabs his bag, going over the things he needs yet again.

The door opens with momentum only seconds later, almost crashing into the wall.

“Nii-chan!” Honoka declares like a war-cry. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes,” he states calmly as she takes a run-up and jumps onto his bed, upsetting the things he’d placed there. “Careful.”

“Why are you leaving? Where are you going to? Is it a mission? Can I come with? Oh, please, can I come with?! Uncle Kuro said I’m ready for my first puppet already, but one without poison. Can you believe that? I want one with poison.”

“Honoka,” he stills her, one hand on every shoulder. “Breathe. That’s too many questions.”

“Fine,” she huffs, crossing her arms. “Where are you going?”

“Konoha.”

Her eyes light up and she’s jumping to her feet, nevermind the fact that she’s now leaving footprints all over his bedsheets.

“Can I come?! Please, Nii-chan! I wanna watch you kick Bokuto’s ass!”

“I’m not going to kick his ass.” Yet, he adds in his mind. Maybe next year, at the Chunin Exam.

“Oh,” she pouts. “But I could still come. Aunty Temari loves me. I want to learn how to fight with her Fan!”

“You’ll have more than enough chances to do so when you come up to Konoha a week later.”

“That’s not fair,” Honoka declares. “Why do you get one more week with Aunty and I don’t?”

“Because I’m older.”

Honoka huffs. “That’s unfair. I should have gotten born first.”

He considers the missing logic of her statement, but decides against fighting it. There’s no use in fighting Honoka. She spends too much time with Uncle Kankuro.

“Tell me about Training instead,” he insists, packing his things. “What did Uncle Kankuro show you today?”

“Oh, sure. Well, first he had me recite all poisons and antidotes and I only forgot one. Then he had me practice using my Chakra Strings and it sucked a lot, but I’m getting better. Then…”

“Shinki.” Father stops him at the door, one warm hand on his shoulder. He looks tired, as usual, but Shinki’s long since learned to read his mind through his eyes.

I’m proud of you, they say today. I’ll miss you. Be safe.

“How are you?” Shinki asks, drawing out the moment they have to separate again, if only to come together at the table. “Are you sleeping enough, Father?”

“Have I ever?” He jokes softly. “When we return, I want resume our usual training. It won’t harm you to miss the occasional mission.”

Warmth surges through him at these words. He knows what they mean.

Let us spend more time together. I’ve missed your company.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Can you sit down?” Uncle Kankuro bellows from the kitchen. “Yeez, why do I bother having the food ready on time when you guys take so long in gathering. Honoka, don’t get in my way, this stuff is hot.”

“Sorry, Uncle Kuro.” Honoka rushes to her seat. She knows to head his warnings, after all, she once managed to trip him on the way to the table.

They’ve just taken place, plates filled, when Hayato opens his mouth.

“Shinki’s leaving,” he says, with the tone of someone who’s suffering.

“I know,” Father leans in to smooth done his hair. “We’ll miss him.”

Tears fill pale eyes.

“Does he have to leave?” Hayato asks. He turns to Shinki. “Do you?”

“Don’t be a cry-” Honoka starts, but you interrupt her.

“It’s okay to miss him,” you say, leaning in to dry Hayato’s tears. “We’ll all miss Shinki. But some things are necessary. If we’d never left Suna, we’d never get to see Uncle Shikamaru. How do we deal with these feelings?”

Hayato considers it for a second. “We look for the good?”

Shinki waits for him to connect the dots. Soon enough, Hayato blinks up at his big brother.

“Can I sleep in your bed while you’re gone?”

“If you want.”

Honoka opens her mouth, no doubt to fight for her right to Shinki’s bed.

“Ah,” you cut her off. “Let’s eat first, and discuss things later, okay?

There are not many things to be sure of, even at eleven years old.

Times are changing. Suddenly, traveling from Suna to Konoha takes less than a day. Things that seemed impossible are just “a new Jutsu” now.

But there are things, Shinki knows for sure. He counts them, sometimes, when he’s unable to sleep.

His parents love him. His parents love each other. He has a home. Shikadai will always favor a nap over anything else and Boruto will be annoying…

“What are you thinking about?” Aunt Temari asks, checking the clouds above her. They’re early, but he doesn’t mind waiting.

“What things to be sure of.”

“Oh,” she nods. “That sounds interesting.”

“What are you sure of?”

Her eyes move away from him. Aunt Temari is different from you. She doesn’t like emotional topics. But sometimes, when they’re both alone, she opens up a little bit. He likes that. She reminds him of his Father’s Cacti. They do not bloom as often or as long as you might want them to, but if you treat them right, their bloom is like a gift.

“I am sure…” She hesitates, before she smiles, a twinkle in her eye that tells him that she’s not ready to bloom today. “I’m sure that Honoka is going to be the first out of the carriage today.”

He considers it. “Hayato will want to be picked up.”

“Gaara will have messy hair.” Her smile has turned into a smirk. “Because your mother cannot take her hands away.”

Shinki smiles. All good things to be sure of.

The train halts, the doors open.

“Nii-chan!” Honoka bursts through the open doors, her red hair like a beacon. “Aunty Temari!”

Following her, much quieter, though with no less urgency, comes Hayato, pulling on Shinki’s legs. “Up!” He asks, making himself look younger than he really is.

Shinki picks him up with ease, lets him settle into the curve of his shoulder.

Behind his siblings, his parents walk out, smiles on their faces.

You’re holding Father’s hand, both of you clothed like the high ranking officials that you are.

But Father’s hair, usually combed to the side, is standing up in every direction, much like that of Hayato.

Shinki shares a knowing look with Aunt Temari.

Yes. All good things to be sure of.

#my writing #naruto x reader #gaara x reader #kazekage family #sabaku no gaara #sabaku no shinki #sabaku no temari #sabaku no kankuro #shinki and reader #shinki and gaara #gaara and shinki #shinki fluff #gaara fluff

214 notes · View notes

fic-over-cannon · 2 months

Text

Nothing Fucks With My Baby (Part 2)

link to part 1

jason todd x f!reader

summary: jason has always feared he’d be the monster of his life. what he doesn’t realize is that between the two of you, you will always be the bigger monster, and you will love him anyway.

tags: violence, murder, implied child abuse, manipulation, implied sexual content

rating: mature | wc: 5.8k

a/n: this plot bunny took over my brain and wouldn’t let me go until i’d finished it. reader’s pov can get pretty twisted, so please mind the tags on this one and let me know if i’ve missed any.

Lucy Nesbit dies remarkably young. Only eight years old and she had drowned in a stormwater overflow. Poor thing, the adults had all said. Should have minded her step better, shouldn’t have been playing in dangerous places. The school had held a week of mourning. A tragedy. It hadn’t taken much effort to kill her. A sharp shove, then kneeling on her back until the bubbles stopped, and suddenly there went Lucy. Stones thrown at recess, scissors searching for your hair, harsh names and turned backs all stopped with just a few moments of effort.

The killing of Lucy Nesbit is likely the most important lesson you learned from that school. No one at the foster home had noticed you come home soaking wet, blood on the tip of your shoe. No one had asked you any questions when you didn’t gasp with the rest of your class as the principal announced the death of poor little Lucy, gone too soon. Nobody had noticed that you had been the one to make the world a less scary place. It is a lesson you keep close to you.

Only Jason Todd had noticed anything different at all. Found you in the corner of the yard staring down at the pavement during recess. Tucked his hands and looked up at the sky, squinted.

“Don’t need me to look out for you anymore,” he sighs. Nudges your shoulder with his and says “Lucy won’t be pickin’ on you again.” He’s right, of course. She won’t be doing anything important really.

“Sometimes I wished she’d die so they’d leave me alone,” you whisper. “‘Cause it was bad when you were there but when she’d wait for you to leave it was always worse. Does that mean I’m a bad person?” It’s a thought that’s crossed your mind before. Is there something so wrong, so terrible about you that the well-fed well-heeled could just look at you and know there was something awful about you? The same thing that led to getting left behind, bullied, belittled. Had Lucy Nesbit taken one look at you and known you were something to be destroyed?

“Nah. You’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be best friends with anyone bad.” He grins at you, front left tooth still missing from where you’d helped him pull it out three weeks ago. The bell rings, shrill and discordant, signaling the end of recess.

It’s only years later that you understand the tremble of her lips and the wobble of her chin before she would call you names, dig her nails into the meat of your arm, lead the other girls in pretending you didn’t exist. Lovely Lucy Nesbit, sweet cheeked with glossy curls, had been afraid. She should have been. The new girl who’d only moved to the Alley recently after her father’s embezzlement conviction, oh she should have been afraid of the children chewing her up and spitting her out like a rotten peach. Instead, she chose someone else to make afraid. The little girl with only one friend and no one waiting for her at home. All of that glitz and Diamond District shine wasn’t enough to bury the ugly truth of Lucy.

Jason Todd dies at 11 years old. He dies at the hand of the Batman, Gotham’s own protector.

Three weeks after Catherine had died and two weeks after he stopped showing up to school, Jason shows up at your foster home. More particularly, at the window of the bathroom you’re currently hiding in. The knocking startles you, hands coming away from where they’d been pressed to your ears to block out the fighting. He grins and waves at you through the window, suspicious smears across his nose and temple. You have to stand on the very tips of your toes to push open the latch but you manage it. He presses his face to the bars, hands wrapping around the solid metal.

“Jason?” you ask, tone tinged with wonder. “What are you doing here?”

“Jus’ wanted to tell you I’m okay.” Something smashes within the house and the voices raise. “Couldn’t stick around for long after the funer— after. Didn’t wanna stick around to see if they’d stick me in a place like this.”

“But what are you going to do? Where do you live?”

“Found an empty building that’s pretty warm. Sometimes I find stuff and Mr. Baker at the garage buys ‘em from me so I can buy loads of snacks. You know—” there’s a loud pounding on the bathroom door, staccato sharp, that causes you both to jump. One of the older foster kids yells at you to hurry the fuck up, then slams on the door again for good measure. In a hurried whisper, Jason continues “You know the old building across the park with the purple window sills? Come find me there.”

The night Jason Todd dies, you’d managed to sneak out again. Knew from previous trips the best way to get to the old house was to go out the back and use the garbage bins to boost over the fence. Jason’s not there when you let yourself in, hands careful to put the loose board back exactly the same. He does this sometimes. ‘Finds’ things to sell to Mr. Baker so he can come back with candy from the bodega to share with you. You settle yourself in to wait in the blanket you’d snuck out for him when there’s a noise from the lane behind the house. Clutching the scratchy blanket closer to you, you feel your way through the dark, breath held in your chest like a treasure. The slats nailed over the painted window sills have just enough of a gap that you can see between them without being seen yourself. What you see out in the night causes you to grip the old wood until splinters dig into your palms.

The Bat holds Jason in his grip even as he struggles, even as he swears. Jason’s angry, snarling face is nothing like his smiles for you. The Bat shakes him as Jason tries to twirl out of his grip, head lolling like a doll’s. Jason goes limp as he is bundled into the looming machine parked down the lane. The last thing you see of him is his eyes, wide and fearful.

Jason Wayne puppets the body of your friend for years after. He is not the boy that stood between you and Lucy Nesbit and matched her stone for stone. This Jason Wayne smiles for pictures without baring his teeth as a warning. He doesn’t remember cruel words or the way the world works. He doesn’t remember the lessons and the secrets the two of you had passed between you. No, this Jason Wayne doesn’t remember you at all. The only explanation is that your friend is dead. The fine sweet thing with his round cheeks and charming school uniform you only glimpse in the paparazzi photos printed in gossip rags half-melted into garbage heaps is not your friend. Just another leech of the city with pretty powder and paint, fattened on too much while there exists too little.

You get the news that Jason Wayne has died while at your third foster home since the one Jason had found you in. You find out the same way everyone else in Gotham does, the public broadcast of Bruce Wayne’s press conference. It steals the breath from you, the anger that slams into you. Heat surges through you and it is all you can do to uncurl your fingers from their fists. It hadn’t escaped you that four months after Jason Todd died there was a new Robin in town. That this Robin had a gaped tooth grin that would make even the dull mourning for a girl you hated seem bearable. The red rimmed eyes of Bruce Wayne on the staticky screen of the common room television confirms what you already know: Bruce Wayne is the Bat and he has killed your friend twice over.

Screaming into your pillow that night, your understanding of how the city works crystallizes. The Bat does not protect you, does not make your city better. He takes and he takes until there is nothing left for you. He throws out in a week food that would sustain you for a month, drops money on batted eyelashes and shiny new toys for him to destroy more of the city with. He is not the saviour some people say he is. He will not save you.

You are the Alley girl with the strange knobbly knees and the eyes that see too much. You will save yourself. You will keep your lessons about the ways the world works and what it takes to change them close to your heart.

The City of Gotham is never short of two things: crime and government money to prosecute it. Certifying as a court stenographer isn’t cheap, not with juggling your ejection from the foster system at 18 and having no funds to speak of. Second and third jobs keep you afloat until the scholarships and grants kick in. But by 20 your future is secured, government pension squirreling away into your accounts. You even manage to buy the house with the purple windows. It goes for a song on account of the murder that took place there all those years ago, but brand new flooring takes care of the more suspicious stains. It should be enough, to have saved yourself. It isn’t.

Every day you go to work and dutifully take down every damning word said. You record the lies and the horrors and the not guilty verdicts and every word you transcribe breaks your faith a little more. You have not saved yourself. The world has not changed, you aren’t any safer than you were at 13 and scared that the drunk man calling out crude words might actually carry them out on your walk home. No safety exists save for the pretty little lie you had painted for yourself. The only thing that has changed is that you are not scrabbling in the dirt.

Somewhere along the way, in the mess of bureaucratic paperwork that had become your life, you had forgotten the lessons you were meant to remember. Forgetting had not served you well. It takes a drunken night out gone badly to force you to remember.

A coworker pressures you to come out with the rest of the stenographers, a newly opened bar just close enough to the edge of the Alley to give the old money blood suckers the illusion of danger. The dance floor is crowded but you choose to stay hunched over your drink, wary of this glittering crowd. A man sidles up to you, rests his forearm against yours and offers you a smile that reeks of Texas oil wells and Manhattan construction firms. You look him in the eye as he fumbles through some pickup lines, nearly sick with the realization that he doesn’t recognize you. DUI, ran through a school crosswalk at the end of the school day, one child dead and two permanently disfigured. Got off with community service and a hefty donation. He wants to fuck you.

The police find him behind the bar the next morning, throat slashed and wallet missing, and chalk it up to a mugging gone wrong. He should have known better than to go flashing so much cash so close to where criminals live, the news anchors tut. Unable to withstand the scandal, the bar closes. You savour the top shelf whiskey bottle you’d bought at their closing, the same one he’d tried to buy you and drug you with, and attribute the glow in your belly to having done a good thing. His driver’s license finds a home under your living room floorboards.

The Red Hood arrives and the Alley almost seems to reverberate with the shockwaves. Still, pretty young things with a hankering for a bit of rough to tell all their friends about with champagne glasses in their hands and haughty titters wind up dead. You don’t recognize all of them from work, some of them you simply want power over. To reveal to these silver spoon fed creatures exactly how fragile their influence is. Disposing of them does not save you, but it makes you feel safe to know that the world does not turn solely around those shiny, fragile things. You are careful and you are not caught.

At the courthouse, you watch the aftermath of the Hood’s vendettas play out. Chat about cases with your coworkers between trials just to get a feel for what his game is. He’s an unknown to most of them, but not to you. You look at how the number of drug convictions of minors plummet this quarter, watch at how fewer pimps get brought in for killing their girls, note the way gang violence reduces down to just the Hood’s own orders and you understand. Whoever the Hood is, whatever he is, he knows the same lessons engraved on your heart. That the world is not safe unless you make it, and that the world doesn’t care what methods it takes to get it done.

Your first run in with Gotham’s newest crime lord isn’t planned. Quite specifically, you had never intended to make your way onto his radar at all. He had different plans, however. Taking out the garbage, you all but trip over his feet one late night. He’s slumped against your fence with one hand pressed against his neck. Blood dribbles between his fingers, dark under the fluorescent burn of the street lights.

The gun pointing at your head does not dissuade you from attempting to push him into a standing position.

“If you wanted to die in my yard, the least you could have done is climbed in through the back,” you say, voice measured and cold. “I’m not letting you bleed out in my front yard and make me a target for whoever carved you that second smile.” That jolts a reaction out of him, gun wavering from it’s unerring focus on your face. “So what we’re going to do is get you out of the open and then I’m going to call whoever you want to come stitch you up.”

A man of his size dwarfs the chair set in your kitchen but he will not be moved from his vantage point. Defensive, back to the wall and all entrances in sight. The wound still bleeds sluggishly. Determined not to have this man die in your kitchen, not when he’s actually out there doing some good in the world, you lay out your first aid kit and go for his throat. The gun jamming into the side of your ribs immediately lets you know just how badly you’ve not thought this idea out.

“You’re still bleeding, pretty badly too. I just want to take a look to see if I can patch you up long enough until whoever gets here can do something.”

The moment draws out, neither of you saying anything. With every breath you can feel the muzzle of the gun dig into you further. Something must read as sincere on your face, not that you’d ever be able to name what it was, and he reaches up for his helmet. Pushes a button at the nape of his neck to release it, before deliberately placing it on the kitchen table one handed. He smiles at you with bloodied teeth and, oh, that’s your boy.

“Well,” he rasps, “get to it.”

At that exact moment you press down with gauze, forcing a grunt out of him. Good. Jason’s scared you enough for a single lifetime. Trying to secure the gauze with medical tape and spite, you’re forced to lean into him until the feverish glow of his skin warms your own.

“Not afraid ‘m gonna bite?”

“I know you’re not going to hurt me because you’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be friends with a bad person.” Leaning back, you inspect your work. Shoddy, but it’ll do until someone actually medically trained can stitch him up. Finally, you let yourself actually look at him. Behind the domino mask you’d swear there’s slack jawed wonder. A brusque knock at the back door interrupts the moment and then great big hulking men are carrying Jason away. You know he’ll be back.

The next time you run into the man who might be Jason, you are tripping out of a bar on the arm of your next pretty bright thing, too whiskey-headed to tell that you’re nowhere near as disoriented as you should be after what you’d knocked back. He knocks over a homeless man’s collection bowl and snickers when the coins get knocked down a grate. Grabbing your wrist, he tugs, pulls you into the side alley and tries to pin you behind the dumpster. The broken bottle shard is already in your hand when the man drops down dead. A neat hole in his head sending droplets all over your blouse. There’s no way dry cleaning will save it. The Red Hood steps into sight, gun muzzle lowered. And just like that, Jason Todd — not Jason Wayne — is back from the dead.

Jason kisses you sweetly for the first time after he drives you home from the traveling fair that had set up on the outskirts of the city. The feeling of his lips — soft, chapped, heartbreakingly gentle — slots something broken back into the hollow between your ribs. He kisses you and the axis of your world shifts. He kisses you, and you know that he will look at you like you are everything good and kind that you pretend to be if only you will love him back. The tender thing in your chest growing claws, fanning hunger into conflagration. Loving him will save you both.

He pulls back and you let him. Look up at him from below mascara-lengthened lashes and allow yourself a smile. Fiddle with the hem of your dress and tell him haltingly just how much you’d enjoyed the evening and how excited you were to do this again. Jason’s declared himself as yours for the taking and you will not let him slip through your greedy fingers.

You let Jason court you. Accept the flowers he brings to your door with quiet murmurs of appreciation. Wear soft dresses that invite him to touch but are just enough out of season for the weather so he’ll wrap his own jacket around you. Send him off to patrol with packets of his favourite candies tucked into his jacket pockets and laugh with him over the meals he cooks for you in the same kitchen he had nearly bled out in. You would have done most of these things for him anyway, but now they are your weapons. Each action meant to pierce another hook into his heart until he is as unable to leave you behind as you could him. You will never believe the world is safe without him in it.

The number of Gotham’s most elite reprobates coming to unfortunate ends zeroes out. You’ve got the prettiest up and comer on your arm these days, with his many scars and fearsome attitude. Jason in his many forms makes the world a better place, makes you safer with every bullet lodged in a skull. He is not the same boy that yelled at Lucy Nesbit for you or split a chocolate bar with you in an abandoned house. The cracks show through. Violence drips out of his every pore despite his hand wringing to you late at night. You are his confessor and absolve him of any sin. A fangless creature is useless to you, though you would grudgingly love it nonetheless.

The first time Jason sleeps with you, you engineer it, encourage it. Why? Because it ties him to you. Binds him through sweat and flesh in a way that nothing else but the kiss of death can. Lean in and wrap your arms low around his stomach as he drives you home on his motorcycle. Linger in his good night kiss before inviting him in to see how the flowers he gave you are doing. Sweep your hair away from your neck as you bend down to place his mug of tea on the rickety coffee table. You close your eyes and smile where he can’t see at the feeling of warm lips pressed to your spine.

It’s slow. It’s sweet. You’ve never felt like a more precious thing than in his arms. He looks at you like you’ve hung the moon in the sky and set the sun to burning. You kiss his scars and tell him to give you his stories when he’s ready. One day there will be nothing you don’t know about him. If Jason wasn’t in love with you before tonight, he is now.

You are told the tale of Jason’s deaths and rebirths only once, but it is enough to open up the yawning chasm of fear under you again. The world is not safe, not for Jason, not for you, not when so many of your enemies still walk this side of the grave. Gotham is safer after the Red Hood. Jason is still in as much danger as he ever was. The horror, the possibility that he could be cut down — by Falcone, by Sionis, by the Joker, by the Bat — it shakes you to your core. You want to scream, to rage. What you do instead is kiss Jason on the forehead and let him go to pieces in your arms.

Jason always says you bring out the best in him. If that is true, then he brings out the darkest parts of you. The parts that twist and grow cold until you see the world as sets of acceptable losses for acceptable benefits. In your eyes, any loss is acceptable for Jason’s sake. He becomes lighter after the revelation, no more secrets between you he says. Accepts your heartbreak on his behalf with teary eyes and a wry smile. The day he tells you that Bruce — his father, the Bat — had been the one to carve him open the time he’d turned up in your garden is the day he becomes wholly yours.

“Jason, Jason he shouldn’t have done that to you,” you say gently, cupping his wet cheeks in your palms. He won’t look you in the eyes.

“He was— he was lookin’ at me like I was the monster, like my murderer wasn’t standing there too,” he confesses. “I just wanted him to love me like when I was a kid.” He shatters. “I just wanted to feel safe again.”

“Oh honey,” you coo, shears tucked into your hand. “I love you, and you’re no monster to me. You know me, do you think I could love something truly evil? You do so much good, you help so many people and you ask for so little in return,” your gaze is tender, loving. “I’d keep you safe, Jay, if I could. And I’d do it because I love you. Someone that won’t do that, well, it’s no kind of love at all.” You see the blow land, have already calculated its trajectory and velocity.

“I don’t— but he loved me. He loves me,” Jason insists, plaintive and raw voiced. “Doesn’t he?”

“I think he might’ve once. When you were younger, sweeter. But Jason, everything he’s done since then hasn’t been love. If he still loves you, it wouldn’t matter that you came back different, came back changed.” You can feel the last threads of his relationship with the Bat fraying under the blades of your words. It’s time to make the final cut. “Can you really say he loves who you are now?”

Jason asks, once, if you ever thought about kids.

“I thought maybe I’d foster some day. Save some poor kids the same trouble I went through, so that others don’t run off scared like you did.” It’s a lie, of course, but you know it makes him feel better to think of you as anything but selfish. “Not now though, not with the way the world is.” You rest your head on his shoulder, curl your fingers into his shirt. “Besides, the life you lead is dangerous enough. It would be cruel to bring children into our lives right now. Maybe one day, if the world ever becomes a little safer.”

He hums, thoughtfully, and leaves the matter there. But the seed has been planted in the dark corners of his mind and one day they will bear fruit.

The house with the purple window sills is officially only a home to you, but Jason comes round for dinner, to spend the night in your bed so often, that it may as well be his home too. He listens to you talk about your long days at work, the court cases that worm their way under your skin and won’t leave until you purge yourself of them. Really, he’s more horrified than you were at the beginning of this at how badly broken the system is. You give no names, simply the crimes and the sentences, and even those details are too much to bear.

One night you come home from work silent. Red rimmed eyes dry and sightless, you collapse into him. It takes an hour, more if you count the time spent panicking over a hypothetical injury, to coax the story out of you. A snake in the grass of a financial adviser, stolen pensions, and three suicides. All charges dropped. The testimony of crying grandchildren still not enough to make a difference. It is the first time he demands a name from you. It is not the last.

The day your old foster father comes across your judge’s docket is the day the world finally feels less terrifying. He is acquitted, of course. The testimony of trauma victims are notoriously inconsistent after all, if the witness is truly traumatized and not just lying for attention. It hurts to hear his public defender say those things, but it does make what you have planned easier.

The moment Jason comes through the door you are on him. Clinging to him all weak limbs and fought back tears. He holds you gently and strokes your hair.

“I need… I need you to do something for me Jay,” you whisper into his chest.

“Just gotta ask baby.”

“I need you to kill somebody and I need you to let me watch.” He stiffens under you, but you will not lose him here. “D’you remember when you came to find me at the foster home, the one with the yelling?” He nods, presses a kiss to the top of your head. “That foster father walked free today, acquitted and all charges dropped. I need to know he’s not gonna stay that way Jay, that someone cared enough to stop him, or otherwise I’ll go crazy.” He exhales sharply through his nose.

“I’ll take care of him, jus’ like I take care of all those names you give me. But do you hafta be there? Isn’t it enough to just know he’s dead? I don’t wanna drag you down into the dirt with me.”

“You’re not tainting me, honey. You’re freeing me.”

You watch the man die, a slow drawn out thing as he begs for kindness. His pain means nothing to you. Only the final blow, dealt by Jason’s bloodied hands, shifts the burden of memory from you. You stop being afraid of this particular threat. The body is found scattered across the railroad tracks. Police mark it down as a suicide.

This victory is twofold. Your world is a little safer and Jason has killed for you, on your express order and with you as witness. There is no greater high than this, the power that sings through your blood. Jason will reshape the world to keep you safe. Now you will reshape the world for him.

It takes three more months of witnessing his work and not flinching before Jason brings him to you. In the end, it’s really quite simple. You ask for the chance to show Jason how much he is loved, to let you take care of this one thing to keep him safe. He puts up a token fight, insistent on keeping your hands clean of his business, but the two of you know that your hands are far from pristine. The Joker is bound at your feet by the end of the day. A quick drag of your wrist and he is just another thing to be taken out with Saturday’s trash to eventually be illegally dumped in the harbour. Jason sobs in your arms that night.

He is not the boy you’d wished to have returned to you as a child. Jason is not quite the Bat’s son, or the weapon of the League either. He is some half-raised creature of the city’s own design and you love him because of that. You know he does not see you half as clearly as you see him, but you will accept his wonderful naïveté for all the ways it will let you protect him. Protect you by extension. Jason’s trust, his devotion to you, it is everything you’ve ever wanted. It is more than you have ever expected to have. That forgotten little Alley girl, now the centre of someone’s world.

And so you plan. A list of names a mile long of people who make this city worse just by breathing. Kingpins and crime lords and all their networks, culled from your networks and court cases. Heroes and vigilantes who already work tirelessly to hamstring the work the Red Hood does, uncaring of all the lives he’s saved. A list that, when all of the occupants are dead, will mean you are finally safe in a world that belongs to Jason. Convincing Jason, with all of his infinite love for you, to wipe the slate clean of them all is still no easy matter. Instead, you let the Bat make your argument for you.

Another bar, another drunk cell-less jailbird, only this time you know that Jason is waiting in the shadows, that the Bat is in the rafters. The man stumbles, his too shiny shoes catching on the cracks in the pavement. Jason moves to raise his gun and a flicker of metal sends his aim wide. The man on your arm shies at the sound of gunfire but your grip is iron. A body slides between Jason and his prey and you refuse to let this one escape. The pen knife lodges beneath the jaw bone, catches on something and sticks. His death rattle is unsightly but he goes down easy, life slipping away down the sewer grate. A booted step, heavier than Jason’s, causes your head to snap up.

A wraith looms over you and it’s pure terror that sends your stomach into free fall. The Bat turns on you, advances until your back is pressed up against the brick. A gloved hand reaches for you but pulls back like stung when a bullet narrowly misses a finger.

“Last warning. Back. Off.” growls the modulated voice of the Red Hood. He prowls forward, legs eating up the distance. The Bat simply grunts. Back to the wall, you try to inch away, but the feeling of cold metal stops you. The cuff around your wrist cinches shut so tightly you can feel the bones of your wrist grind together. You whimper, high in your throat. Jason’s fist goes crashing into the cowl.

“I said back off!” the Bat catches his next punch, before returning a hit of his own.

“She just killed someone in cold blood, Hood. You’re protecting a murderer.”

“At least she did something, Bruce! D’you even know what that man did? What you let him do to this city?” he screams the last word then headbutts the Bat.

The alley descends into a flurry of blows, bodies colliding with metal and concrete. Neither of them notice you pick yourself up from knees and flee. Home’s not safe, not until Jason tells you. But he’ll come back for you. You’ve gotten so good at waiting for Jason, what’s a few hours more?

He finds you in the safe house he’d made you memorize the address of way back in the infancy of your relationship. Nerves have you sitting in the dark, too afraid that even a light will give you away. It is a cold kind of silence that blankets the small kitchen with its empty cupboards. Dried blood has started to flake off of your skin and you begin to pick at it. For a moment, the repetitive motions distract you until you can’t bear the prickly feeling on your skin anymore. With a clatter you rush to the tap, the trailing handcuff clanging against the metal sink. A stone rolls in your gut and you retch until there is nothing left in it. Everything rests on this. The future rests on this. You lean back and rest your forehead on the cool edge of the sink.

The sound of the window jimmying open causes you to jump, whirling around to face the threat. It’s Jason, only Jason, flailing around in the dark. The streetlights reflect off of his helmet, revealing the cracks in the patina. You launch yourself at him, fingers curling into the collar of his coat. He smells of blood and grime, but beneath it all, warmth. Jason crushes you to him, hand cradling the back of your head with a tenderness that overwhelms you.

“M’sorry I’m late baby,” he murmurs. “Why’s it so dark in here?” Unable to form words, you simply shake your head and press yourself closer. Fear has always dogged you, but never have you gotten so close to the source of it. Jason raises a hand and wraps it reassuringly around your wrist. “Let’s get some light and we’ll get this thing off of you,” he says while stroking a thumb over where the cuff digs into your skin.

You have to stifle a giggle at the absurd parallel to the night he tore back into your life. The two of you sat at a table tending to wounds inflicted by Gotham’s self-titled vengeance, the uncertainty of the future hanging over you. Hands gentler than they’ve ever been, Jason traces over the blooming bruises on your wrist, handcuffs discarded on the table.

“He’s never going to stop chasing me, is he?” you whisper, slow fear poisoning your voice. “He’s never gonna stop trying to take me away from you. Not while I’m alive.” Jason trails his grip to your palm and turns it over, brings it to his lips and places a featherlight kiss on your fourth knuckle.

“No, baby. Not while he’s alive.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood fic #sunnie writes 🌻

115 notes · View notes

legend-the-dumb-jock · 6 months

Text

Stephen was the above average joe. Muscular. Huge package. Standing at 6’4”. When he walked into a room people stopped and stared looking a the muscled specimen that heaved the room. And with large size 16 feet you could hear him coming too.

Stephen had a perfect life but where someone is so perfect there has to be a downfall. Stephen’s was that he always took advantage of those close to him. He was able to be so muscular and hot spending all his time in the gym and never once helping his boyfriend, Matt, pay for rent. He was a leach. Every night he would come home dripping sweat. Kick off his massive shoes leaving them where they fell. He would drop his dirty sweat clothes in the hall way and never clean after himself. Then while still dropping sweat, flop down on the couch. Staining even more than what he already has. But it was time. And his boyfriend had had enough.

While Stephen fell asleep like he always did on the couch, his boyfriend still in front of him with a menacing glance. Holding the book he had from his family he began to chant the spell to make Stephen change.

Stephen was dreaming about plowing the hot gym bunny. Bending him over the sink and thrusting himself in. And all the while began to scream while he was having sex …

“….and this vessel must change to meet this new form!” His boy friend finished reading. And then he seen the fine print,,, there had to be an agreement from the one the spell was going to effect. He began to panic. How would he get Stephen to agree to…”YES YES ! FUCK ME !!!” Matt’s mouth dropped. How could this have happened in a more perfect moment. Stepping back slowly he hid the book. Now. Watching as his boyfriend began to change.

Soon Stephen’s well defined abs began to push outwards. His legs began to get fuller and he also began to shrink in height. His pecs quickly lost all definition as they were hidden under a thick layer of fat and his stomach continued to balloon out warden. Hair began to sprout from ever office of his body giving him in a thick coat of fur. His feet got shorter becoming a size of extremely wide and thick size 11s. He had little sausage toes now while his fingers fattened up. His butt began to inflate and sag as it widened and his back began to grow wide to match. A thick unkempt beard began to grow out of his face while he started balding. What was once a hunk before now looked like an out of shape 45 year old man. Matt smiled at his creation. Knowing that there was more to come.

Matt woke up to screams from the living room. Walking in he seen Stephen looking at his phone and trembling. “What the fuck has happened to me !!” Matt asked him. What he was talking about. All a part of his plan to make Stephen lose his mind. He was going to treat Stephen like the fat older man he was now. Even though he was the only other person in the world now that would remember what he is really supposed to be like. “Phen. You need to stop acting weird. It’s time for you to go to work. I wasn’t able to wash your janitor uniform though. “ Stephen just looked at him. Whatever happened seemed to have changed reality he thought. He had to get out of there. And sadly. It seems as though the dirty uniform was the only thing that would fit him. Before he left the apartment Matt handed him some pills “don’t forget your pills Phen. You know you need your heart meds and that cholesterol needs to come down. Try not to eat those 4 double cheeseburger for lunch again” he said as he kissed Stephen’s fatter face.

Work was hard for Stephen. He found that at his new size and short let height he was screed on all aspects of life now. He was the lowly janitor of the gym he worked at ! And people would just throw dirty clothes on him and expect him to always be at their whim for cleaning. During his lunch break he wanted to find a way to fix this. He had to get his old body back ! But then he caught glimpse of it. The burger signs. And drawn by an impossible force he walked over. Walking through the doors he was greeted by the cashier. Working his wallet out of his pocket with his meaty hands he paid for his food. 5 double cheeseburgers. And he ate ever bite. Licking the grease from the wrappers and his fingers. He was forced by some unseen force to be the fat animal he looked like. Walking back home he could help but feel winded. His lunch should have. Been enough to make him feel full for days but his stomach was growling like an angry bear. He felt so tired. As he walked through the apartment door he shuffled his wide feet down the hallway and looking in the mirror began to cry.

Somehow during the day he had gotten older. And much bigger. What little muscle definition he had was completely gone. Now his stomach was rock hard and protruding in an impossible beach ball stomach. Completely bald with white facial hair. Matt came around the corner and Stephen cried. He pleaded for Matt to remember him. “Phen. Are you ok? I know you’re jealous of my youth. But we’ve talked about this. You’re a 61 year old man. You have to come to terms with that!” And he walked off. That number reverberated in Stephen’s head.

Walking around the beach no was no longer fun for Stephen. He was getting looks now but not for his hot young body. It was for the massive beach ball he carried. He had been stuck like this for a whole month at this point. Continuing to try to find a way to change back there just has to be one. Matt came walking up to him with food. “You know one day. I’m going to stop giving into her hunger. We gotta find someway to get you. Lose weight Phen”. Phen aggressively at the multiple cheese burgers, fries and shake that Matt had brought him. Matt watched his creation. Everything from that night with spell had come true. An intense appetite that never went away, old age, massive bloated stomach with no muscle definition, and all the pains that would come with his body being like this. He knew that Phen was trying to find a way back. To get his old body back so he could be happy. But little did he know, that the Matt altered the working of the spell. “And when you agree to this the changes will be permanent”.

272 notes · View notes

mirisss · 8 months

Text

Chapter 10

Stray Kids OT8 x hybrid! afab! reader

Warnings: Crying, mentions of some members acting violent (in response to (Y/n)’s past), mentions of scars, some anxiety, eating/food, sleep problems, I think that’s it, let me know if I’ve missed anything.

Wordcount ≈ 2.2k

Hey everyone! I hope you enjoy this chapter! I can’t believe I’ve been working on this series for two years, it’s crazy, I didn’t think it would take this long but I am so happy to see so many people enjoying my story. I just want to say thank you for all the support, but don’t worry, this is not the end of the story, we still have a long way to go!

Please reblog!

Taglist: @ayoo-bangtan, @lose-lose07, @kingcarrot-thecarrotking, @starjane312, @reighlee-greaves, @hi-39024, @queenmea604, @septicrebel, @justayoungandwisefangirl, @imasimplol, @k-p0p-4ever, @detectivedoodle, @hehe-24-hehe, @jinnie-ret, @0325tiny, @borahae-reads, @shycreationdreamland, @kiaralynn3838, @blondechannie, @theydy-madamonsieur, @boi-bi-ahaha, @riri321, @3rachasninja, @kkamismom12, Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 11,

(Y/n) closed her eyes, fully trusting Jeongin, just as she would with any of the eight boys she now called her home. Jeonging couldn’t help but smile as he too closed his eyes.

(Y/n)’s POV

I closed my eyes and leaned in, I wasn’t too sure what to do, but that didn’t matter. I knew I wanted this and I felt safe. Soon I felt Jeongin’s soft lips, gently press against mine. An electric feeling spread through my body. It washed away any anxiety that I felt, leaving me with only curiosity and love. Jeongin gently ran a hand through my hair as he put just a little more pressure into the kiss, I tried responding by leaning my head a little to the side, something I had seen in a movie. I felt Jeongin smiling into the kiss, it made me relax even more. His scent was intense yet calming, so much contact with his warm skin, the feeling of his hand gently running through my hair, soothing me. I never wanted this moment to end. All too soon, he broke the kiss by leaning back. A bright smile and sparkling eyes greeted my gaze as I opened my eyes.

“Wow, your lips are so soft,” He whispered, but I heard him loud as day. “It was nice,” I whispered back. He kissed me on my forehead before he stood up, giving me a hand to help me stand as well. “You should get in the water before it gets cold, I’ll head out to the others, and we’ll see each other soon again, okay?” “Yeah, that sounds okay,” “Just call for me or anyone if you need us,” “Thank you,” Jeongin left me alone as I undressed and got into the warm water. The bath salt scent was strong, it felt like being embraced by the ocean and a summer breeze. I relaxed in the water, breathing calmly as I felt better after sharing some of my past with Hyunjin. I knew he was telling the others about what I told him, it weirdly felt nice to know that I didn’t have to share it on my own, telling it once was hard enough.

Third Person POV

Once Jeongin came back to the living room, Hyunjin began telling him, Minho, and Felix about (Y/n)’s past, or the part she had shared with him. Felix began crying at the thought of the sweet bunny being put through such trauma. Minho felt angry, he wanted to find the people who hurt (Y/n) and make sure they couldn’t do it again, once he calmed down a little, he felt almost a little happy, happy that he found her and took her home. Here she would be able to live happily, in a home filled with love. With their family. Jeongin understood why (Y/n) had asked him to stay, not wanting to be alone, he wanted to run back to the bathroom and hold her, telling her she would never be alone again.

“We’re going to have to tell the others too, do you think you’re up for it, Jinnie?” Minho asked, concerned that it would be too much for the younger. “I think I can do it as long as I’m not alone,” “We’ll be here with you, someone will have to hold back Chan-hyung and Binnie, they’re going to go berserk when they find out,” Minho said, half-joking as an attempt to make Felix laugh instead of cry, though he knew that it was true. Bang Chan and Changbin would not take this well, if Minho thought he felt angry it wasn’t anything compared to those two.

“Hey, you okay, Lixie?” Hyunjin asked as he moved closer to the crying boy. “Yeah, I just hate thinking of our sweet bunny being in so much pain and being alone. I hate feeling lonely, it’s the worst feeling,” “She’s not alone anymore, she has us. You have us, we have each other. We have all felt lonely but we’re together now so we don’t have to be alone anymore,” Jeongin said, it resembled his talk with (Y/n). Stray Kids was quite a fitting name, all of them having been astray, lonely, and isolated, but now they have one another and together they chase away the hurt and pain of their past. In each other they found a family, they found love, and most of all, they found a home.

(Y/n) emerged from the bathroom a little while later, Felix and Hyunjin were gaming, Minho was in the kitchen preparing some food, and Jeongin sat on the couch, scrolling through instagram. “Hey,” the hybrid said lowly, Jeongin looked up with a smile. “Hey, feel better now?” “A little, the bath salt was nice,” “What do you want to do now?” “I think I’ll go help Minho out, and get a snack,” Jeongin just smiled and gave her a thumbs up. His eyes scrunched together, making him look so cute, and (Y/n) couldn’t help but smile too. (Y/n) walked over to the kitchen, hearing Minho curse lowly just before she walked in. Finding him glaring angrily at a pot on the stove. “Hey,” (Y/n) had during her time with the boys heard them joking about Minho being scary but she didn’t see it, to her he was someone with a soul so kind that it could not know any hate. He was gentle and sweet, (Y/n) was never cautious around him, perhaps it was because he was the one who found her, the first human who ever cared about her.

“Oh, hey (Y/n), are you hungry?” “A little, but I also want to help you, with whatever you’re doing,” “Can you help me glare at the pot for ruining the food I was making?” The two chuckled at how Minho blamed an inanimate object for messing up the recipe and not himself. Minho reveled in how comfortable the hybrid was around him, his heart feeling just a little lighter to see her smiling and cheerful after everything. “What did the pot do?” “It burnt the food, so I have to start over,” “I’ll help you,” “Okay, well, just stir this and I’ll make a sandwich for you, okay?” “Yes!” And so the two made some food, this time without burning it. Shortly after they finished with the food, the other guys came home. Happy to find the table set for dinner as they were all starving. The nine of them sat down and ate, Chan and the others telling everyone about the information they received during the meeting and whatnot.

After dinner, (Y/n) and Felix volunteered to take care of the dishes, so that Hyunjin could tell the others about his and (Y/n)’s conversation. Minho and Jeongin sat down beside the tall dancer, ready to help him explain anything in case he found it too hard to say for a third time. Minho had been correct in thinking that Chan and Changbin would be angry, but he had never thought that Seungmin and Han would react just as strongly in anger toward the hybrid’s past. “Do we have their names? Or anything? We could contact the authorities if we did, even if it is in the past, what they have done isn’t allowed,” Chan said, looking at Hyunjin, hopeful that they had more information on these people. Hyunjin shook his head, “She didn’t tell me any names so if she knows, she didn’t share them with me,” Changbin clenched his jaw and his hands, anger flowing through his body, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “She seemed quite cheerful now though,” “Yeah, she took a bath and just spent some time with us, grounding herself in the safety of our home,” Jeongin answered.

“Do you think we should buy some scar treatment lotions? Or something to treat her scars, they may be old but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t at least try to treat them,” Seungmin said, imagining how uncomfortable it must be for her, he also wondered if maybe (Y/n) was ashamed of her scars. “I’m not sure, we’ll have to look into it and maybe bring her to the vet for a check-up, just to see what the vet will say,” Chan answered. “Honestly, I don’t know if she’s ready to see a vet or a doctor, you see how she is around other people, to have someone come so close and touch her, I’m not sure it’s a good idea, not yet,” Minho said, the others agreed with him after hearing his argument.

“There’s one more thing, or actually two, that happened earlier,” Hyunjin said, everyone directed their attention to him once more, worried about what he would say. “(Y/n) had a panic attack in the elevator, which caused this whole ordeal, and when we got out of the elevator she kind of collapsed on the floor, and when I tried to calm her down, she kind of kissed me,” Everyone except Jeongin was surprised when Hyunjin told them about the kiss, after all, (Y/n) had told him so he already knew. “What? She kissed you, ahh, I’m so jealous,” Han said loudly, whining at the thought. “She kissed me too, or well, rather she asked me to kiss her before she took her bath,” Jeongin said.

Just then, (Y/n) and Felix came back out from the kitchen, just in time for Felix to hear Jeongin tell the others about their kiss. (Y/n) shyly looked at Felix as he looked down at the bunny in surprise, he gave her a smile before he continued walking. “I’m sorry,” “Why are you apologizing, (Y/n)?” Han questioned. “Because I kissed them, and not all of you,” “Hey, no pressure. You need to take everything at your own pace, we can wait. There is no reason to rush into something,” Seungmin answered, his honey-sweet voice made a warm sensation spread through (Y/n)’s body. “Are you sure?” “Of course, we are, bunny,” Chan said, standing up and walking over to her, he opened his arms, inviting her into a hug, and (Y/n) gladly accepted it.

For the remainder of the night, everyone did some different things, some were gaming, others like Hyunjin and (Y/n) were painting, some had gone to bed, and some (*cough* 3racha *cough*) were still working. Soon it was time for everyone to try and get some sleep. (Y/n) got ready and changed into cozy pajamas, then she followed Changbin to his room as she would spend the night there. She got into her bed, enjoying the soft feeling of it. Changbin whispered good night as he lay down in his own bed.

(Y/n) tossed and turned in her bed as the comfort escaped her all too soon. Her body was on full alert, not allowing her to fall asleep. She tried to think of how soft her pajamas were, or how warm the blanket was, yet it didn’t work. (Y/n) then tried to think of the boys, how warm they are, how nice and kind they have been to her. How much she loves them and how much they love her, but not even this could help her relax. After 2 hours of frustration, she sat up, contemplating going to the kitchen and getting a snack. The hybrid was a bit startled to find Changbin sitting up only a second after her, her hybrid senses allowing her to see even in the dark, (Y/n) could clearly see his eyes being open, he was awake.

“Can’t sleep?” He asked in a raspy voice, indicating that he had woken up from his sleep. “Mm,” Was all (Y/n) could answer. “Come here,” The rapper said as he lifted the covers on his bed, inviting her into his bed. While the thought scared her a little, she couldn’t decline the invite as the idea of falling asleep in his safe embrace just seemed too good. (Y/n) stood up and walked over to the bed, lying down beside (Y/n). Changbin gently put his arms around her, guiding her to rest her head on his chest, (Y/n) inhaled his scent, calming her body. (Y/n) focused on the steady beats of his heart and his calm breathing. Changbin fell back asleep almost instantly, (Y/n) stayed awake for a couple of minutes but eventually, thanks to the warmth and the safety of his strong embrace, the dream world welcomed her as she fell into a deep slumber.

151 notes · View notes

oneforthemunny · 1 year

Text

like we've been before |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader| part 12

prompt: the aftermath of the fall out. the follow up of the fight from part 11.

contains: 18 + MINORS DNI, angst, mentions of fighting, fluff, language, make up sex lmao. oral male rec, p in v sex.

It had been three days of no contact. Even with Eddie, who could barely work his phone on a good day, that was a lot. No phone calls, no sweet texts, and he hadn't showed up to your apartment.

You'd had your own moment of weakness last night, sending him a tearful apology text, ramblings about your own stupidity, your own lapse of judgement, sealing it with an "I love you".

Eddie didn't respond.

You'd shown a movie all day, brain too scrambled to teach fractions to first graders today. They'd been content with Ms. Frizzle's adventures enough to get you through the day. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably, gathering your things for the day. You weren't entirely sure what came over you, but you drove to Eddie's home.

You knew Brielle was with Gina tonight, that Eddie got off work early on Monday's. Usually the start of the week was spent with you, wrapped under sheets, squealing giggles in the kitchen while he'd dance you around. You hoped you'd get back to that. That your one moment of weakness wouldn't ruin everything you'd built together. You were happy with Eddie, happier than you ever thought imaginable. You didn't want this to end, not ever, but certainly not like this.

Eddie's truck was under the car port, the small glow of the kitchen light on. You could picture him, hair pulled back, groaning when he'd bend down to get a pan, knees creaking.

Shaky legs brought you up the pebbled sidewalk. Normally, you'd just use your key, go in through the side door, but it felt wrong to do that now. You smoothed your hands down your skirt, pulling the glass door to knock on the white wooden door.

It opened before you could knock, hand lifted midair, eyes wide when you came face to face with those beautiful brown eyes. Eddie looked just as shocked to see you, keys in his hand, readers shoved up on his head as a makeshift headband. You wondered if he even knew he had them up there.

"Hey." You squeaked, taking a step back.

Eddie looked at you, stepping back to stand in his own doorway. "Hey, bunny." He greeted. No dimpled grin or warm smile. He didn't grab the glass door from you, nodding at you to come inside. Instead, he just watched you, carefully, eyes scanning over your frame.

"I, uh, I-I'm sorry." You blushed, sudden embarrassment and dread rising out of your chest, choking you. This was a mistake. "I-I didn't mean to... Don't let me keep you from where you're going. 'm sorry." You breathed slowly, head ducking to hide your quivering lip.

"Hold on," Eddie's hand grabbed yours slowly, the familiar calloused hands in yours that had your heart skipping a beat, breath catching. "I was... I was on my way to come see you, actually."

"You...You were?" You asked hopefully, eyes rounding to meet his.

Eddie nodded, short bobs, lips pressing together. "Yeah." He muttered, hand leaving yours to catch the glass door, pushing it off your shoulder. "Why don't you come in?"

It felt too formal to be you two, but you savored the invitation anyways. Your tummy twisted, bundles of nerves that left your knees tightening with every step.

It was silent, too quiet for your own comfort, hands wringing before you. "Do you want anything to drink or-"

"I'm so sorry." You heaved, turning to meet Eddie's soft gaze. You bit your own lip, trying to keep the burn of tears down, the guilt bubbling in your chest, thick and suffocating. "Eddie, I-I'm so sorry."

Eddie sighed, soft, his face falling gently, breathily saying your name, soft and a little defeated.

"No, it's all my fault, and-and I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that to you. That was so fucked up, and-and I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Eddie." Your vision clouded with tears, blinking down your cheeks that you tried to wipe and hide.

"I-I didn't think about Gina or-or her taking Brielle away, and I just didn't think. I wanted Brielle to like me, and that's stupid, I know, and it's not an excuse. There's no excuse for it, really. I just... I'm sorry." You rambled, shaky breaths that left your voice wobbly, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand.

Eddie stayed silent, unmoving from his place. You shuddered, sniffling hard and wet. "I-I get if you don't w-want to see me anymore. I just... I wanted to let you know I'm really sorry." Your jaw clenched at the words, burning with tears.

"Hey," Eddie said quietly, reaching out for you. You could feel his hands on your arms, hesitating, before you pulled you into his chest. The woody smell of his cologne mixed with the smoke of the cigarette he'd smoked on his way home. You clung to him, fisting the soft cotton of his shirt, stuttering breaths that heaved out of your chest.

"I'm sorry." You blabbered into his shirt, burying your face in the soft fabric. "I'm so sorry."

"I know." Eddie muttered, slow and soothing, a hand smoothing down your spine softly, swaying you against him. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't... I shouldn't have yelled at you or been so mean."

You pulled back, shaking your own head. "No, Ed, this is my fault. You don't need to apologize at all-"

"-But I do." Eddie nodded firmly. "I was angry and I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, even if I was. I know it wasn't entirely your fault. Brielle told me what she said to you, and... that wasn't fair to you at all. She'll be apologizing to you the next time she sees you too."

You shook your head, lips parting in protest before Eddie's hands were on either side of your head. "I'm sorry." He muttered, nose touching your own tear soaked nose, rubbing it gently. "I missed you."

"I missed you." You croaked, a shuddering breath catching in your throat, lashes still wet, fists still balled on his own shirt.

"And I love you too." Eddie's thumb stroked over your cheek bone, catching a straggling tear falling. "I got your text this morning, and I... I wanted to tell you in person."

You smiled, lips still wobbling, heart bursting in your chest. You pulled him closer to you, his own lips barely brushing over yours, scruff of his beard tickling your lip. "I love you, and I'm sorry."

"I love you too." You whispered, head tilting to slot over his own mouth, letting him claim you, tasting the saltiness of your tears on your lips, his hands moving to cradle your cheeks sweetly.

"And I really did miss you so," You pressed a kiss to the corner of his prickly jaw. "So," Lips gliding and hovering down his neck, towards the pulse point there, teeth grazing the spot you knew brought him to his knees. "Much."

Eddie groaned, head tipping back further for your mouth to explore, groaning when you sucked the spot there, lazy and needy. His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer to his chest, eyes closed letting you work him.

"Fuck, baby," Eddie groaned, that low rasp in his voice that made your knees buckle. "Feels so good."

"Let me take care of you." You muttered, trailing kisses down his neck, following the vein that protruded to his inked collar bones, hands sliding up under his shirt. You felt his belly, soft and warm, fingers scraping up his happy trail.

Eddie sighed, contently, eyes fluttering shut. "Think I'm supposed to take care of you, baby." He muttered.

You shook your head, fingers gripping the hem of his shirt. "Let me. Please." You pleaded, eyes rounding up at him.

He hesitated for a moment, and you knew this was new to him. Getting taken care of instead of constantly taking care of others. You just wanted to spoil him, the way he always spoiled you, he deserved it.

"Let me make you feel good." You whispered, pressing a kiss to his jaw. His knees buckled, cock throbbing at the thought, so he let you push him back on the sofa, gently.

Dropping to your knees in front of him, you took your time getting him out of his sweatpants. Spitting in your own hand to pump him slowly, Eddie was so sure he was going to pass out right then and there. Then when you wrapped your mouth around him, hot and wet, flicking your tongue over the head before swallowing him, his fingers dug into the couch, trying to still his hips from plummeting his cock further down your throat.

Your head moved in a slow bob, his hands finding your hair easily, threading through your locks, pulling at the scalp. "Fuck! Oh fuck, just like that." Eddie hissed, a pleasure filled groan that had his hips rising.

You gagged when he shoved himself further, his hands gripping on your hair, muttering apologies to you when you pulled back. "Sorry," You grinned sheepishly, waterline glistening gently.

Eddie lifted a brow, eyes half lidded when he looked down at you. "Don't apologize for that. My fault." He muttered, thumb swiping under your eye softly. "Felt fucking amazing, bunny."

You blushed, pressing a soft kiss up and down his shaft, cupping his sac with your free hand, thumb gliding down the seam to make him moan. Your thighs pressed at the sound, so pretty and he was making them all for you.

You let yourself take Eddie back into your mouth, inching him further and further until you gagged, the vibrations making his toes curl, fingers tighten in your hair.

"Wait, wait, wait," Eddie muttered, pulling you back gently. Your eyes batted up at him curiously, frowning gently.

"Something wrong?" You asked, tilting your head to the side, still gripping his cock in your hand.

"No, fuck no." Eddie laughed gently. "Feels so fucking good, but I'm close. Wanna be inside you when I cum, baby."

You flushed, his hands finding your cheeks easily, pulling you up into his lap. His lips moved to yours, pinning you on the couch beneath him. Hands moving towards your skirt, shimmying it down your body, lips on yours, on your jaw, on your neck.

"Oh! Fuck, that feels good, Ed." You groaned, his lips sucking a deep bruise into your neck, thumb circling your clit. You'd have to cover it up tomorrow, but it was worth waking up a little earlier to do. It just felt too fucking good to have him stop.

Eddie nipped at the crook of your neck, your legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him closer, while he slid a hand beneath you to pull at your bra. "I've missed this." Eddie muttered into your flushed skin. "Missed you."

"God, I've fucking miss you." You whined, head tipping back into the couch, clawing at the cushions with every slow circling of his thumb around your clit.

His lips moved down your sternum, heading towards your aching core before you stopped him. "I just... Ed, I need you inside of me." You pushed yourself up, straddling him easily, legs on either side of his hips.

Eddie grinned, hands finding the fat of your hips, the swell of your ass, squeezing the plush skin there. You grind against him, moving his cock to swipe between your sopping folds, barely giving him the time to tease you for how wet you were before you were sinking down on his length, sitting on his cock fully.

Eddie's stuttered breaths, catching in his throat, hands squeezing your ass had you clenching hard around him, rocking back and forth to adjust. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, you feel so good. So fucking good, bunny." Eddie muttered, letting his head fall back against the cushions when you slowly raised, riding him slow, just how he liked it.

Your hips swiveled against his, a rise and fall that had him singing your praises. "Ride me, baby. Just like that. Bounce all over me, my little fucking bunny goddam look at you. Just- oh shit- Just like that." Eddie rasped, eyes dark and peering into yours.

Your nails dug into his shoulders for purchase, already feeling yourself becoming sloppy. "Bounce all over my cock for me. You're going so good, aren't you? Just so good to me."

"So good." You parroted breathlessly, throwing your own head back, his hand moving to your clit easily. "Fuck! Ed, keep- that, do that, please."

Eddie smirked lazily, half lidded eyes looking at you, watching how you bit you lip then moving down to see his cock disappear inside of you with every rise and fall of your hips. His abs clenched, biting his own lip to keep himself from cumming right there.

He could feel your movements stutter, getting sloppier with every ministration of his thumb on your sensitive nub. Eddie moved his free hand from your hip to your nipples, pinching and rolling your left tit softly.

You gasped, back arching and nails digging into his skin. You flooded over his cock, practically sitting on his cock while your pussy spasmed around him, walls fluttering, forehead falling to his chest.

Eddie grinned, pulling you onto the couch so you were on your tummy, pushing your knees up. "I'm close, baby. Let me finish real quick." He muttered, pushing himself back into you.

He fucked you, ass up, your face pressed into the cushions, still foggy and sensitive with every mind numbing snap of his hips against your ass until he was spilling inside of you. Long, deep strokes while you milked him, barely registering the muttering praises he pressed into your sweat licked skin.

Eddie stayed inside of you longer than he should have, eyes closed, forehead pressed against your shoulders. He knew his back would start to hurt from the cramped position, but he willed those thoughts away. For now, he just wanted to feel you, every part of you. How you breathed, how you felt around him, under him, every part of you.

It was true, he had missed you.

Not even just the sex. He missed having you with him, sweet smiles and tiny shared giggled. He missed having you in the kitchen in nothing but his t-shirt, hair still mussed from his fingers, sitting on the counter while he cooked for you.

You'd laugh at him over your own glass of wine- moscato, he'd remembered you liked the sweet stuff- lips tugging in a sweet grin when he'd point the stirring spoon at you playfully. "Who sings this song, hm, missy?" He'd tease you, the radio on the window sill humming lightly with some song from when he was young.

"Metallica?" You'd shrug sweetly.

Eddie huffed playfully, stirring the pasta on the stove. "Lucky guess." He winked at you. "Not like you've guessed that for every single one so far."

You laughed, leaning back into the dark wood cabinets. "Well, it's all you listen to!"

"It's not all listen to." Eddie rolled his eyes playfully.

You looked down at your shirt, a faded band tee soft with wear, tears on the seams at the bottom. "You're right. Could've been... what does this say? Die?"

Eddie chuckled, grabbing the strainer. "Dio, baby." He looked over his shoulder at you. "Don't tell me you don't know them."

"Fine, I won't." You quipped, grinning into your glass at his shocked expression.

"You've got to be cultured, bunny. Can't believe this. Hold on," Eddie turned, muting the radio with a switch. "Alexia-"

You howled in laughter. "-Alexa, Ed."

"Whatever. Alexa," The machine lit up with a blue ring at his command. "Play Dio."

The machine repeated back to him before the electric guitar's riff sounded through the speakers, a low hum that had Eddie turning the wooden spoon into a makeshift guitar. You laughed, letting him 'play' for you, singing the words to you, while he drained the pasta.

You had really fucking missed him.

788 notes · View notes

ravencincaide · 9 months

Text

This little thing

Summary: Not every woman wants their boyfriend to buy them everything they lay their eyes on. It was just excessive. Unfortunately for you, that’s something that Chuuya still struggles with. Or the time Chuuya got you one meaningful gift instead of 50 just-because ones.

Pairing: Reader x Chuuya Nakahara

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 11: Shopping

Hope you enjoy~ ______________________________________________________________

“ Chuu, are you really getting all those felted bunnies for yourself?”

You did little to hide your teasing smile as you stared at your boyfriend's confused expression, his arms filled to the brim with at least fifty handmade animals in all shapes, colours and sizes. All of them were soft; either knitted, crochet or felted and all with exquisite details. Hearing your comment he looked down at his arms, seeming to just realize he may have overdone it slightly. Turning his head left and then right, he quickly came to the realization that there was little place in the small shed for him to place them down. It wasn’t long until the 50 or so animals were levitating in the air between you.

“ So pass on the bunnies” Chuuya agreed, flickering his eyes towards the shelf furthest away where he took them from. All twenty of them returned to the shelf in neat little lines. You watched with an amazed expression on your face, always fascinated by his ability whenever he used it. Which was rare around you. “ Sweetheart?”

You closed your mouth and turned away from the bunnies and back to your boyfriend and the remaining thirty animals levitating around him. Not a single duplicate, each one slightly different than the next, in one way or another one. “ Why so many Chuu?” You asked as you tilted your head to the side.

Chuuya watched your expression carefully before raising his hand and rested it on your cheek. The leather of his glove felt cool on your skin, the touch loving. Even if you’d wish he took those damned things off when around you. “ Because you like this sort of thing”

You blinked in confusion for a moment, trying to figure out where he got that idea from, before it finally clicked. “ Do you mean the felted fox I have in my bookshelf? The one my mum made for me before I moved out?”

“ It looked like it could use a few friends” was all he said, his eyes looking at you with such adoration you could have sworn you hung the moon. Or something. But you could see past that loving expression and down to the emotion which triggered this behavior of excessively buying you anything you could remotely like, let alone want or need. Each date would end with your hands full of different gift bags and presents as if you had just gone Christmas shopping for your entire family instead of spending a few hours together. So now when you were actually out to look around the autumn market with intentions to buy some random cute or practical autumn items you were terrified of how many more things your sweet yet excessive boyfriend would bestow upon you.

“ Love” you called and pressed a hand against his cheek feeling him instantly lean into the touch“ You don’t need to buy me anything, you don’t need to bribe me with gifts and trinkets to keep me. I’m gonna remain your girlfriend even if you get me nothing. So please- no excessive shopping.” You plead hoping you could get through to him. Reluctantly three more animals returned to their shelves.

Only 27 more to go.

“ It shouldn’t be a problem for me to buy things for my girlfriend.” He pressed a quick peck to your lips, clearly deciding that this would be the end of this conversation. You, however, were not planning to give up until all the animals returned to their rightful place.

“ Chuu we talked about this” you mumbled, letting your hand drop away from his cheek and pressing your fingers against your forehead, above the bridge of your nose. You were fighting off the oncoming headache “ You know that when you just pile on things on me like this it makes me feel inherently guilty and indebted to you. I know it’s not what you’re after- I honestly do- but it also makes it harder for me to say no to you when I really should.”

“ You never need to feel that way,” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “ You know I’d never ask for anything that you don’t want or aren’t ready for.”

You looked up at him as he moved your fingers away from your forehead and clasped them tightly in his hand. His lips were quick to replace them, the gentle touch beginning to ease the frown. “ Chuu please” you begged “ We can compromise on something somewhere else okay? I really don’t want anything from here and if you keep buying me things I show a slight interest in I’ll not have enough space for the truly precious gifts you get me.”

You watched him hesitating, the gears in his head turning as he fought back the argument that ‘you could just move in with him’ or he could ‘buy you a bigger place or storage space’. Thankfully even Chuuya realized that your relationship was not at that point, yet. “ Fine” he muttered, pulling back and pushing his hat over his eyes as the remaining animals returned to their shelf.

“ Thank you Chuu” You gave him a peck on the lips, trying to ignore how pouty he looked. Like the thought of not gifting you the entire store physically hurt him “ Now that we’ve checked this place out, wanna head towards the fall market stalls? I heard the farmers outdid themselves this year with fall-themed treats and pastries!”

Before Chuuya replied, you grabbed his hand and turned around, starting to head for the door.

Just then something off to the side, hanging on the wall, partially obscured by numerous knitted hats and gloves, caught your eye. It was a hanger full of white hand-knitted floor-length scarf that resembled more a small blanket than something practical. It was full of intricate designs in various shades of white. From this distance you couldn’t fully tell what the designs were, but you were certain they were just as detailed as the rest of the items in the shop- if not more. You were captivated by the way it shimmered from a distance; the shift of silver, icy and blue colours depending on how the light hit it. But most importantly, it looked soft and warm, like a hug that would protect its wearer against even the coldest and most bone chilling Japanese winter days. It was clearly a handmade thing- a unique one of kind that you had never before seen. And you were certain you’d never see a second of its kind again. God you wanted to look at it closer, run your fingers over the material to see if it was as soft as it looked.

You bit your lip in thought.

Then deciding that it would make you too much of a hypocrite if you were to go and buy the first thing your eyes lingered on after you just scolded Chuuya for doing just that. So you turned your back on it and headed outside the small store pulling your boyfriend behind you.

You regretted your choice almost the second you step outside; the autumn sun was quick to set while you were browsing inside the warm stall, letting the chilly autumn night air set in. The wet coldness seemed to crawl past your clothes and chill you to your core despite the five layers you were wearing. A scarf would have been nice, you mused to yourself bitterly.

Still proud and stubborn however, you refused to turn around and get it. Instead you took a look around the sea of people before picking a direction at random. It wasn’t long until you and Chuuya were walking side by side, admiring the handiwork:, from hand carved wooden toys and games to weaved socks and sweaters. It didn’t take long until you arrived at the part of the market which sold food; jams, cheeses and meats, fall vegetables and even pumpkins together with a pumpkin carving contest.

“ Sweetheart shall we get some hot chocolate?” You turned to look at your boyfriend who nodded in the direction of a semi-long line. All it took was another blow of the chilly wind for you to agree. Indeed you nodded, hot chocolate sounded like a splendid idea to warm up. Almost too eager you went to the queue wondering what sorts of flavors they had to offer. You stood ahead of Chuuya in line, with your boyfriend hugging you from behind, head resting on your shoulder, eyes closed. Gently you moved from one foot to another, a soft rocking motion that kept you warmer and seemed to make your boyfriend sleepier.

You hated to admit it but if it got any colder you’d probably have to call it a day early, independently of how much more of this market you got to see. The thought made a wave of disappointment wash over you, this was one of the few together-activities that you were really looking forward to and wouldn't get to re-experience until next year!

“ Sweetheart, can you get me the dark one with marshmallows?” Chuuya asked after five minutes of waiting, breaking your trail of thought.

You tilted your head to the side in confusion “ Sure, you going somewhere?”

“ Just give me a moment” Chuuya pressed a kiss to your neck, his cold nose making you shiver, before he disappeared into the masses, somehow perfectly blending in despite how lightly dressed he was, on top of wearing his hat and black coat which swayed behind him with each step. Although his clothes were stunning on him, they did make him stand out among the masses of warm coats and gloves. You looked after him before shaking your head and turning back to count the number of heads that were left before it was your turn. Concluding it was ‘many’ you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself missing Chuuya’s embrace more than ever.

It took you another ten minutes until you got hot chocolate for you both. Once you got the two large cups overflowing with goonesses you began facing the dilemma of where you’d find Chuuya. Looking left, then right you made your way towards a small empty table to the side of the stall and set your mugs down there. Before you could reach for your phone, a familiar arm wrapped around your waist, pressing you closely to his chest. “ Hmm smells good. Wait long sweetheart?”

“ Not at all” You smiled as he nuzzled into you before moving back from you. The action confused you: you turned your body to face him, your back leaned against the table momentarily forgetting about the chocolate and the coldness.

“ Here Y/N” Chuuya stated as he held up the paperbag towards you, looking to the side. His face looked flushed, something between embarrassed and guilty, with a redness that not even the chilly autumn wind could achieve.

You looked skeptic for a moment before carefully taking the bag from him. You watched his hand drop to his side and he still wasn’t looking at you, perhaps because he was expecting that you’d scold him for it. In fact you could see him sigh heavily, clenching and unclenching his fist in nervousness.

You turned your attention away from Chuuya and towards the white wrapping tissue which kept the gift inside obscured. With careful fingers you moved the paper aside before you gasped. Inside was the fluffy white scarf, looking even more stunning than it did on the hanger.

“ Ohh Chuuya-baby you shouldn’t have” you mumbled in shock trailing your fingers carefully over the hand embroidered design of a shimmering- glittering snowflake. The material was much softer than you could have imagined. “ It must have been so expensive.”

“ Do you like it?” he asked carefully, still cautious in case he had somehow offended you.

“ I love it” you looked up at him with a huge smile on your face. “ This is the best and most thoughtful gift you’ve ever given me, thank you so so soooo much Chuu!”

He chuckled at your excitement before reaching for the bag, intending to help you wrap yourself up in it. As he draped the warm material over your shoulders you grabbed the front of his jacket and crashed your lips together in a long, grateful kiss. It took him less than a second to reciprocate, his lips moving against yours. The kiss was deep yet sweet and gentle, neither rushed nor sexy-passionate. Still it was a kiss you’d remember for a long time.

After all, there was just something magical about kissing Chuuya in the middle of the autumn market, surrounded by people, lights and under the warmths of the most thoughtful and caring gift your boyfriend had ever gifted you. Even if with each kiss the hot chocolate behind you grew colder and colder..

#bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #sweetober #Chuuya sweetness #caring boyfriend #autumn market #chuuya nakahara #bungou stray dogs chuuya #buying thoughtful gifts #Cold sweetness

177 notes · View notes

crybabylipstick · 9 days

Text

Melanie's tattoos and the story + info about each of them:

1. Candy Hearts

Melanie got a tattoo of pink and blue candy hearts on her left elbow in July of 2014. They were done by her friend and tattoo artist Lauren Winzer. It is one of her first two tattoos.

2. Teddy Bear

Melanie got a tattoo of a yellow teddy bear on her upper right arm in September of 2014. It was done by Lauren Winzer.

3. Pin-Up Girl

Melanie got a tattoo of a retro pin-up girl holding a juice box on her upper right arm in November of 2014. It was done by Wayne Fredrickson.

4. Ice Cream Truck

Melanie got a tattoo of a pink and green ice cream truck on her left bicep in June of 2015. It was done by Lauren Winzer.

5. Balloon Animal Dog

Melanie got a tattoo of a blue balloon animal dog on her left forearm in June of 2015. It was done by Lauren Winzer. She got this tattoo because when she was four, her parents threw her a birthday party which she wasn't satisfied with, because no one came to it, which inspired her to write the song "Pity Party."

6. Carousel Horse

Melanie got a tattoo of a carousel horse on her left forearm in July of 2014, on the same day that she got the candy hearts. It was done by Lauren Winzer. It is one of her first two tattoos.

7. Cake

Melanie got a tattoo of a pink birthday cake on her upper right arm in March of 2015. It was done by tattoo artist Marie Sena. The design was inspired by Chloe Tersigni, a former friend of Melanie who created the storybook artwork for her debut album, Cry Baby.

8. Ice Cream Cone

Melanie got a tattoo of a colorful ice cream cone on her right forearm in February of 2015. It was done by Linnea Pecsenye.

9. Bunny Kewpie Doll

Melanie got a tattoo of a kewpie doll in a bunny suit carrying a melting ice cream cone on her left forearm in June of 2015. It was done by Lauren Winzer. Melanie spoke about the tattoo, which was inspired by two childhood memories, in an interview with Fuse, stating, "This one is based on a couple of experiences from when I was a kid. My first word was "mine." It happened when I was in my walker in my driveway and my dad snatched an ice cream out of my hand and I just screamed "mine!", like "Give me my ice cream! Why'd you take my ice cream?" And then there's a picture of me outside dressed as a bunny. So I just did a little kewpie baby dressed as a bunny, holding ice cream that's melting, just to mix the two experiences".

10. Angel

Melanie got a tattoo of an angel with a retro hairstyle on her left calf on an unknown date in 2015.

11. Block of Cheese

Melanie got a tattoo of a block of cheese within a heart on her upper right arm in February of 2015. It was done by tattoo artist Josh Barg. In an interview with Fuse, when asked about the tattoo, they said, "I love cheese. I’m obsessed with cheese! I’m like the biggest dairy queen in the world".

12. Kewpie Doll Heads

Melanie got a tattoo of two kewpie doll heads on her upper right arm in February of 2015. It was done by tattoo artist Linnea Pecsenye. The boy on the left is smiling, while the girl on the right is crying, representing happiness and sadness.

13. Ice Cream Cone

Melanie got a tattoo of a colorful ice cream cone on her right forearm in February of 2015. It was done by Linnea Pecsenye.

14. Heart-Shaped Lollipop

Melanie got a tattoo of a red heart-shaped lollipop on her right forearm in November of 2014. It was done by tattoo artist Wayne Fredrickson.

15. Bunny Head

Melanie got a tattoo of a bunny head and a kn*fe on her right forearm in February of 2015. Melanie shared the story behind the tattoo with Fuse, stating, "It was actually my first pet ever. And then I got a dog and my parents told me I couldn't have a bunny and a dog, so we all decided to give the bunny away to a friend of a friend who already had a bunny. So we thought 'It'll have a friend, that’s amazing, that's awesome.' So they left my bunny and their bunny in the backyard unattended for like, four hours. They ended up finding their bunny in their neighbor's backyard and my bunny's h*ad was in their yard". The bunny in the story is Whinnie.

16. D*c*pitated Girl

Melanie got a tattoo of a little girl whose h*ad has been c*t off jumping in the air, with roses spilling out of her neck in October of 2015. It was done by tattoo artist Gary Royal. The tattoo is an illustration by Japanese artist Masami Yanagida, and the girl's blouse says "For Joy", referencing the phrase "jump for joy".

17. Teardrop

Melanie got a tattoo of a teardrop on her right forearm on August 14, 2015. She got the tattoo in celebration of the release of her debut album, "Cry Baby".

18. Love is a Maze

Melanie got two tattoos of couples on each of her thighs in December of 2015, although they weren't finished until April of 2016. The tattoos are both illustrations by Masami Yanagida. The one on her left thigh shows a clothed couple with their heads in a maze.

19. S*x is a Game

Melanie got two tattoos of couples on each of her thighs in December of 2015, although they weren't finished until April of 2016. The tattoos are both illustrations by Masami Yanagida. The one on her right thigh depicts a n*ked couple with their heads in a lottery wheel.

20. Elmer Elephant

Melanie got a tattoo of Elmer Elephant from the Silly Symphonies short of the same name on her left calf in October of 2015. It was done by Shon Lindauer. It goes along with her Tillie Tiger tattoo.

21. Tillie Tiger

Melanie got a tattoo of Tillie Tiger from the Silly Symphonies short, Elmer Elephant on her right calf in October of 2015. It was done by tattoo artist Shon Lindauer. The tattoo goes along with her Elmer Elephant tattoo.

22. Tooth

Melanie got a tattoo of a tooth with a face and rosy cheeks on her upper left arm in January of 2016. When she was a baby, she was biting on an apple and she lost her tooth in it and she thought it was pretty funny because the entire event caused her to become crazy. It was done by Nat G.

23. 222 Heart

Melanie got a tattoo of a small heart with the number 222 inside of it in January of 2016. It was done by tattoo artist Nat G. She tweeted, "The number follows me around everywhere. Usually whenever I see it something good happens". 222 is also Cry Baby and Angelita's class room number in "K-12". 222 is Melanie Martinez's angel number, which is why she got it on her arm.

24. Madeline

Melanie got a tattoo of Madeline from the media franchise of the same name, as well as a quote from the series on her left calf in January of 2016. It was done by Nat G.

25. Masami Yanagida Illustration

Melanie got a tattoo of a man whose body is c*t into pieces, with the words "Love Love You" written on his midsection in December of 2015. The tattoo is an illustration by Masami Yanagida.

43 notes · View notes

mysterygrl20 · 3 months

Text

Propaganda: So I was drunk one night after confessing to my work crush (it went bad) and this nice muscular guy at the 7-11 took my wasted self home. We ended up having a one night stand. We clicked so well we started a FWB relationship. One of the rules being: no kissing on the lips. He gave me his favorite necklace and kissed that instead. He's a famous boxer so to hide him coming into my apartment, we've done roleplay. And I started training at his gym for reasons. definitely not horny nor did we hookup in the backrooms. Anyways, I asked him to be my fake boyfriend to get my crush at work off my back for this scholarship thing. Fast forward a month, we are practically joined at the hip. We have our own bunny and tiger roleplay costumes together with matching toothbrushes and also couple pants with boxing elephants. My grandma has caught us after sex. We had a food fight in the kitchen with flour. He's given me morning forehead sniff kisses and made me breakfast. We text constantly. He recently left for training and I missed him so much that I drove two hours to see him. He hugged me for a recharge and gave me a sniff kiss on the cheek. I kissed his chin and then he kissed his necklace I haven't taken off since he gave it. When he returned from his training he met me at work and gave me sniff kisses all over in the stairwell. We just went out together with his brother and his bf. IT WASN'T A DOUBLE DATE I SWEAR. We took photos together and he said it looks like a family photo. At the end we had a walk/run together while holding hands by the river.

Also he has this girl he wanted me to help him get with at the start, but then he's always with me doing fake boyfriend things with me. And now my work crush is suddenly trying to hook up with me.

#can this break containment #wandee goodday

58 notes · View notes

gimmethatagustd · 6 months

Text

venor (11) | kth + jjk

The barista at the university’s café keeps telling Jungkook not to come back, but Jungkook is too busy daydreaming about kissing the beauty marks on his face to be paying attention to his warnings.

○ Pairing: Tiger!Taehyung x Bunny!Jungkook

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Hybrids, predator/prey, college au, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, light angst, eventual smut

○ Word Count: 8,963

○ Warnings: Bunny Koo is really cute (when is he not?), Jai wrote too much about ceramic pottery but now if you ever want to make your own terracotta flower pot you'll know how!, hand jobs, blow job, anal fingering, what the gworlies call self-lubrication aka slick, that awkward moment when you know your roommate heard you having sex and you're afraid to confront them in the living room

○ Notes: Me, in my pirate voice: There be smut ahead, mateys! For real though, I wrote this chapter with scrambled eggs for brains, so I apologize in advance for it being so… niche and weird jhsdkfjs. I hope you like it despite that.

○ Post Date: March 24, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Cross-Post

○ What was Jai listening to? The series playlist

Series Masterlist

Jungkook eventually goes home, but only after eating a hearty breakfast prepared by Hoseok at his insistence. There was no point in arguing with him; Hoseok’s hospitable nature would never let Jungkook leave without being fed and ensuring he had everything he needed to shower and freshen up for the day.

Such kindness leaves Jungkook buzzing with happiness as he makes the short but winding journey through campus to get to the prey side, smelling like Taehyung’s shampoo and carrying his small duffle bag slung over one shoulder. He doesn’t even care when people stare at the hickeys on his neck as he bounds up the stairs of his dormitory two at a time, not even bothering with the elevator so he can do something with the energy bottled inside him.

Surprisingly, even Yoongi’s nagging doesn’t make Jungkook less enthusiastic about life. He gives Yoongi a dopey smile and shrugs off his pestering questions.

“Where have you been! You didn’t answer my texts or calls! I thought you died,” Yoongi huffs as he follows Jungkook down the hall.

Yoongi’s somewhat bristly orange tail swings back and forth. Jungkook feels bad thinking about how Taehyung’s tail moves more elegantly, even when he’s angry. He doesn’t feel bad enough to stop thinking, though. He has reached the most hopeless part of having a crush, the part when simply breathing reminds him of Taehyung.

“Why would I have died?”

“You went to a predator’s house party, Jungkook-ah. How else am I supposed to react to you never coming home?”

Twirling around, Jungkook reaches their bedroom and flings the duffle bag onto his bed. He shrugs at Yoongi again and lets his body fall onto his bed next to the duffle bag, with his arms flopping lifelessly at his sides.

“I feel all loopy, hyung,” Jungkook smiles at Yoongi, eyes lidded and a permanent upturn of the corner of his lips. “The party got a little intense, but spending the night with Taehyung was so nice. He’s so sweet, hyung, you don’t even understand.”

Yoongi pouts with his arms crossed against his chest. He isn’t genuinely angry, just concerned. Jungkook finds Yoongi’s reaction endearing, considering there really isn’t anything to be worried about. Jungkook is more than fine, even if the situation with Byungchul shook him slightly. Jungkook thinks he understands Byungchul now. There’s no fear left in him for the wolf hybrid, only pity.

“What do you mean by intense?” Yoongi asks with narrowed eyes.

“It was nothing, hyung. I’m just happy I got to spend time with Tae.”

Watching Yoongi’s gaze drop from Jungkook’s face to his neck, Jungkook quickly lifts his shoulders and tilts his head to hide the splotches still dark on his skin. Taehyung told him that they would fade eventually, but sometimes, depending on how easily a person bruises, they can last a long time. Jungkook doesn’t know for sure, but he has a hunch that hickeys won’t fade from his skin for a long time.

“You better be careful,” Yoongi gestures to Jungkook’s neck, “Or else he’ll accidentally mate you.”

“Hyung!” Jungkook sits up and tries not to whine when Yoongi smirks at him.

“What? I’m just saying.”

“We’re not going to mate,” Jungkook mutters, a bit of the euphoria seeping out of him. “We’re not even together.”

Yoongi snorts at that. He rests his shoulder on the doorframe and gives Jungkook a curious look.

“You’re going on dates. You scent each other. He’s been courting you for months. How are you not together?”

Yoongi is right; Taehyung’s affections are obvious. If Jungkook were to make an assumption, he would think Taehyung probably even views their relationship as monogamous, even though they haven’t officially discussed their relationship status. Just the thought of Taehyung with anyone makes Jungkook feel sick.

“I guess…”

Yoongi rolls his eyes and lifts himself off the doorframe.

“Just tell him how you feel and get it all over with, Jungkook-ah. I can’t deal with this weird dance the two of you are doing around each other,” Yoongi mutters as he goes down the hall, his slippers shuffling along the hardwood floor.

“Easier said than done,” Jungkook groans and flops back onto his bed.

It shouldn’t be so difficult to talk to Taehyung. As Yoongi pointed out, they already behave like a couple. Perhaps that would be enough for some people, but Jungkook needs confirmation and a title. He may be old-fashioned or naive, but he’s always dreamt of having a real boyfriend, not the blurred lines that come with the hookup culture that’s more popular now.

The thing is, in Jungkook’s dreams, it was always a prey boyfriend. He’s sure that if Taehyung has dreamt of a boyfriend, too, it has always been a predator boyfriend.

If someone had told Jungkook that transferring to a new university would potentially bring him heartache and an existential crisis, he wonders if he would still have run away to Seoul with wide eyes and a pair of disappointed parents in his wake.

Rolling onto his stomach, Jungkook leans off the end of his bed to grab his drawing tablet from his desk. Lying down while he sketches will hurt his lower back later, but he wants to burrow in his blankets and wait for the day to pass him by. Besides, at this rate, he might finish Taehyung’s portrait before everyone goes home for winter break.

Assuming it won’t be too late.

Upset with himself for letting so many doubts sour his bubbly mood, Jungkook pulls up his favorite Twitch streamer to rewatch her latest gameplay while he colors in the little beauty mark artfully placed on the tip of Taehyung’s nose that he regrets not having kissed yet. At least he has kissed the one on Taehyung’s lip, which he moves onto once he’s finished with Taehyung’s nose. As much as Jungkook loves all of Taehyung’s little details, his lips consume much of Jungkook’s aimless thoughts.

As if summoned by those aimless thoughts, multiple text messages from Taehyung interrupt the video Jungkook is only somewhat paying attention to.

vante95

hey bun

wyd

do you miss me yet

jkookie

Maybe

Do you miss me yet?

vante95

maybe

“Oh my god,” Jungkook huffs with a roll of his eyes, but his thumbs fly across his phone screen with a demanding response he’s sure won’t work but is worth a shot.

jkookie

Leave early

vante95

lol i can’t

we’re short staffed anyway

jkookie

Tell them you’re sick

vante95

wow bun

this whole time i thought you were a law abiding citizen

now look at you

you punch one predator and you’re a villain

evil incarnate

Maybe Taehyung is right; Jungkook won’t admit it, though. A sense of responsibility was ingrained in Jungkook at a young age. It has taken very little time with Taehyung for that previous priority to dissipate in Jungkook’s mind.

jkookie

Stop it 😠

vante95

cute

jkookie

If you’re not going to leave early then go back to working!

vante95

whatever bun wants

hope you’re ready for our PG date 😘

Is Jungkook ready? Considering he has to kick his blankets off because his body grows too warm and the way his ears fall forward to hide his face when he faceplants into his pillow, he isn’t so sure.

–

Not to be a meme, but graphic design is Jungkook’s passion. He feels most at home with tablets and laptops, hunched over his desk with a blanket draped over his shoulders and a spinach-banana smoothie beside him. So when Taehyung holds open the door to the sculpture studio, and Jungkook is hit with the dusty scent of dried clay that cakes his nostrils and parches his throat, his confidence in his creative abilities immediately plummets.

“Hardly anyone uses the studio on the weekends, and if they do, it’s on Sundays,” Taehyung beckons for Jungkook to follow him deeper into the studio, “So we should be alone.”

Alone.

Jungkook’s throat tingles when he inhales, maybe from the dusty air or the spike in Taehyung’s scent when he utters that loaded word. They’ve spent so much time together alone; it shouldn’t feel different today. So why does it?

Taehyung’s tail flicks around his ankles as he weaves through the wooden tables scattered around the room. They’re covered in thick fabric that leaves dusty marks on Jungkook’s black sweatpants when he brushes against them. The entire room is blanketed with a thin layer of ceramic dust. No wonder Taehyung brought a travel-sized bottle of lotion in his backpack. Jungkook can only imagine how dehydrated the skin on his hands will be by the end of the afternoon.

Along the cinder block walls are shelves of pottery and little bottles of what, upon further inspection, Jungkook learns are ceramic glazes used to paint the pottery.

“The kiln is in that room,” Taehyung explains as he points to an unmarked door on the opposite side of the room. “And that’s the pug mill. I’ll show you how to use it, but you need an apron first.”

“Kiln, pug mill,” Jungkook repeats the odd words to himself.

Taehyung nods enthusiastically as if he’s proud that Jungkook is learning. It’s cute to watch Taehyung navigate the room with so much confidence. He’s in his element, even more so than he had been at the museum. This time, it’s clear that Taehyung owns this space. It’s his domain.

Along one wall is a row of clay-caked aprons hanging on brass hooks. Taehyung slips one over his head and ties the apron’s strings behind his back to secure the fabric protecting his ripped jeans and long-sleeve t-shirt.

Jungkook smiles shyly when Taehyung grabs a soft, forest-green apron to loop over his head. His large hands are gentle when they squeeze Jungkook’s hips to turn him around so he can tie the strings around his waist.

“Don’t want to mess up your clothes,” Taehyung murmurs softly, his touch lingering on Jungkook’s body. He slips his fingers under the hem of Jungkook’s hoodie, letting out a pleased hum when his fingers lightly skirt the smooth skin of Jungkook’s waist because he isn’t wearing a shirt underneath.

Jungkook shivers when Taehyung pulls away.

“Your clothes,” Jungkook corrects and feels heat spread across his cheeks when Taehyung winks at him.

On the walk to the academic building that houses the art department, Taehyung tasked Jungkook with brainstorming what he wanted to make at the studio and the method he wanted to use: hand-building or the potter’s wheel. Now that Jungkook has seen the three low-seated electric potter’s wheels in the corner of the room, Jungkook isn’t sure he wants to experiment with something that looks so intimidating. Still, he’s also worried about how crude his pottery will look if he molds it by hand.

“You still don’t know what you want, do you?” Taehyung quirks an eyebrow at Jungkook as he folds his sleeves, pushing them past his elbows.

“Not really...”

With a bitten bottom lip, Taehyung pauses to look over Jungkook again. He huffs when he releases his bottom lip and subtly smirks.

“Well, I know what I want.”

Jungkook may be naive, but he’s sure Taehyung isn’t only talking about making art.

“You were going to show me how to use that?” Jungkook changes the subject quickly, unsure if he can survive whatever Taehyung is pulling. He gestures to the odd cylinder machine Taehyung had referred to as the pug mill.

Taehyung lets out what sounds like a purr when he slips past Jungkook to remove the lid of a giant bin beside the machine. He explains that the bin is full of terracotta clay. He shows Jungkook how to load the pug mill with clay and watches as the machine spits the lumps back out as a smooth cylinder. Using a short wire with little wooden handles at the end, Taehyung cuts off the clay for Jungkook to carry to the table.

“It packs the clay and gets all the air out,” Taehyung explains as he gathers more tools for Jungkook, including a bowl of water with a squishy, worn-looking sponge floating in the middle.

“Why?”

“If the clay has air bubbles in it, it might explode when it gets fired in the kiln, and then you’ll fuck up your art and everyone else’s.”

“Oh,” Jungkook gasps as he lowers onto a wobbly, dusty stool at the table. He’s pleased when Taehyung sits beside him, bumping their shoulders together playfully. “Has that happened to you before?”

Taehyung watches Jungkook with a small smile. He props his head up by resting his elbow on the dusty table and holding his chin in his hand. The studio’s windows aren’t large, but they’re high on the walls, and the golden sun rays of the dying autumn day make Taehyung’s amber eyes glow.

“Someone else’s project exploded and broke mine once,” Taehyung finally looks away to start cutting off a lump of clay for each of them.

“What was your art of?”

“A figurine of a mushroom that was actually just a dick,” Taehyung flashes Jungkook a wicked grin, “I was really immature in high school.”

“I thought this date was supposed to be rated PG.” Jungkook scrunches his nose, and Taehyung throws his head back with a deep laugh, making Jungkook’s skin prickle.

“How many curse words and dick jokes am I allowed?”

“To be considered PG? I don’t think any!”

Imagining a teenage Taehyung is funny. Jungkook sees a tall, lanky boy with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes and a rebellious streak that means he isn’t afraid to be himself, even if his interests are unique – that’s precisely why people are drawn to him. The image greatly differs from Jungkook’s teen years, when he was a shy little bunny who spent more time playing video games and talking to his friends on instant messaging platforms than exploring the outside world.

“Bun?”

Blinking, Jungkook quickly looks away when he realizes he’s been staring at Taehyung. Just when he thought he’d moved past his dreamy thoughts about Taehyung, they swoop back to snatch him up.

“Sorry, I’m paying attention.”

Smirking, Taehyung turns back to the lump of clay they each have in front of them.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to use the wheel.” Taehyung chuckles when Jungkook fervently shakes his head. “So these are the tools you’ll probably want to use to help you shape the clay into what you want–”

“A little flower pot, like the one you gave me,” Jungkook interrupts, keeping his eyes on the small wooden tools on the table. They’re smooth and lightweight in his hand and safer to look at than Taehyung’s heavy gaze.

“A flower pot is a great idea.”

Taehyung’s voice is so soft that Jungkook immediately looks up, and his insides turn to jelly from how sweetly Taehyung observes him. It’s a brief expression, quickly disappearing once Taehyung’s been caught.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung continues explaining how Jungkook should approach making his flower pot using wooden tools and a bowl of water to keep the clay wet and pliable. Jungkook only half listens. It’s too easy to fall into the low lull of Taehyung’s voice, so gentle and smooth, like velvet against skin.

“For our next date–”

“You think I’ll want to go on a third date with you?” Jungkook interrupts, peeking at Taehyung’s shocked expression in his peripheral vision.

“Wow, okay, rude.”

“I’m kidding!” Giggling in a way that cutely accentuates his front teeth, Jungkook squints up at Taehyung and bumps their shoulders together.

“Nah, it’s fine. We don’t have to go on another date.”

Jungkook gives Taehyung a gentle, but still sharp, kick to the shin that makes him try to scoot his stool away, the metal legs screeching horribly against the concrete floor.

“Tell me what you were going to say!”

“What I was going to say …” Glaring at Jungkook with mock indignation, Taehyung sniffles dramatically, “Was that for our next date, I want to do something to learn more about your tech stuff.”

“Tech stuff.”

Taehyung side-eyes him.

“Yeah, tech stuff. You get what I mean.”

“Video games.”

“Yeah, video games.”

The back of Jungkook’s hand is the only clean part, so that’s what he presses to his mouth to stifle his laughter at Taehyung’s ridiculous request, not because of the request itself, but how he requests it.

“We can do that,” Jungkook says with a scrunched nose and rounded cheeks that he knows Taehyung can’t resist, even if he pretends not to think Jungkook’s giggling is cute.

By now, Taehyung should know that Jungkook will agree to anything he requests.

Crafting a flower pot, even a small one meant to hold a tiny succulent similar to the one Taehyung gifted Jungkook, proves difficult for Jungkook, though. If he isn’t pressing too hard into the clay and denting it in a way that makes it uneven on one side, he’s accidentally making the walls too thin or thick.

“It’ll shrink in the kiln. All the moisture evaporates,” Taehyung points out when Jungkook’s first flower pot is too small. Despite Taehyung politely telling Jungkook that he is doing his project incorrectly, it warms Jungkook’s chest when Taehyung explains the process to him.

His second attempt is an acceptable size but wonky and oddly shaped, even if Taehyung insists that it’s cute. Jungkook doesn’t want a cute flower pot; he wants a proper flower pot. Meanwhile, Taehyung’s flower pot is perfectly shaped and decorated with an intricate design he carved on the exterior with a sharp wooden tool. It’s a bit infuriating how lovely it looks.

Not one to back down from a challenge, Jungkook makes two more flower pots until he is satisfied with his final outcome. Flower Pot #4 fits in two hands and is deep enough to accommodate plant growth, giving room for roots to stretch out in the soil.

“I still think it would have been easier if you’d let me show you how to use the wheel,” Taehyung comments after Jungkook shows off Flower Pot #4.

Jungkook shakes his head.

“It looks scary.”

“Like me?” Taehyung teases, his boyish grin growing wider when Jungkook playfully slaps his arm.

Jungkook gasps in horror when he realizes he has left behind a handprint of clay on Taehyung’s shirt.

“I’m so sorry.” Jungkook swivels around in his stool with both hands held up. There must be something to clean Taehyung off with?

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But—”

“Bun, you’re fine,” Taehyung insists, standing up. “Come on.”

Taehyung shows Jungkook how to use another machine to flatten the leftover clay so he can carve out little shapes to attach to the side of his pot as three-dimensional decorations. It’s cliche, but Jungkook meticulously carves out petals to create little flowers scattered about the pot, using one of the tools to draw little cuts into the clay and using the wet sponge and a bit of slippery clay to attach the decorations.

“What you’re doing is called scoring.” Taehyung carefully maneuvers Jungkook’s flower pot to inspect his hard work once they’ve sat back down. “You scratch the surface of each piece so they fit together, and then you use the sponge and really wet clay, sort of like glue, to adhere the pieces together. That’s called slick.”

“What ?” Jungkook squeaks, turning to the side so quickly to look at Taehyung that he almost falls off his stool.

A pretty pink blush blooms on each of Taehyung’s cheeks. He clears his throat and continues cleaning up the excess water droplets and wet clay from the flower pot, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze.

“It’s called slip,” Taehyung quietly corrects himself in a gruff voice. “Slip.”

Jungkook is unsure whether he should be embarrassed or amused by such a terrible mixup. Part of him wants to tease Taehyung over the Freudian slip, but he doesn’t want to rub salt in the wound.

The thing is, now Jungkook has slick in his head, and his brain doesn’t seem to want to move past it. The slip is slippery against his fingers as he finishes binding the final decorations on his flower pot, slippery like something else. It makes Jungkook think about the night before, the image of Taehyung on his knees in front of Jungkook hooking its claws in his brain and refusing to let go. He can practically feel phantom kisses tingling up his legs, Taehyung’s face nuzzling in the crease of his thigh.

“Are you done?”

Taehyung’s question forces Jungkook out of yet another daydream.

“Oh, um, yes,” Jungkook says quietly.

Despite the studio’s cold temperature due to its location in the basement and the windows letting in a slight draft, Jungkook feels like he’s burning up under his sweatpants and hoodie. It doesn’t help that Taehyung’s irises look a bit darker now, and his pupils a bit wider; however, those things could just be the studio’s lighting playing tricks on Jungkook.

Unfortunately, there’s no denying how Jungkook’s scent spikes when Taehyung leans into his personal space. They lock eyes with each other, neither willing to break the link they’ve created as Taehyung reaches out to pull Jungkook’s flower pot toward him by the piece of cardboard it’s sitting on. Taehyung’s forearm brushes against Jungkook’s chest, and he exhales sharply. It’s embarrassing, especially since all Taehyung is doing is taking Jungkook’s pot to place it alongside his own on a shelf to dry before Taehyung’s professor loads it into the kiln with the other students’ art.

“Do you want to keep the other pots?” If Taehyung’s voice sounds rougher once he has returned to lean against the table, that could be Jungkook’s ears playing tricks on him from how quiet the studio is.

“They’re ugly,” Jungkook pouts and gets a roll of Taehyung’s eyes in return.

“No, they’re not. They’re unique.”

“I hate them.”

“Alright, the pretty bunny gets what the pretty bunny wants.”

With a teasing smile, Taehyung grabs the remaining three flower pots and drops them into the large bin of clay near the pug mill.

So much unadulterated attention from Taehyung is beginning to overwhelm Jungkook. It’s the damn slip! It’s got his brain all scrambled and his body feverish.

It takes the violent vibration of Jungkook’s phone on the table, disturbing dust that makes Jungkook sneeze, to knock his brain back into place. Unable to answer it because his hands are caked in clay, Jungkook stares up at Taehyung with wide eyes and a helpless pout. His phone is already dirtied from the dusty table; he should have slipped it into his apron’s front pocket.

“Tae, help me.”

“You’re so cute,” Taehyung laughs and motions for Jungkook to follow him to the industrial sink in the back of the studio so they can wash their hands.

Jungkook tries his best not to think about how pretty Taehyung’s hands are, with wide palms and long, slender fingers. Jungkook thinks Taehyung has what the classic writers would describe as the hands of a pianist, deft and sensual. He wonders if Taehyung knows how to play any instruments, and wouldn’t be surprised if Taehyung knew how to play everything.

“It was Yoongi hyung asking where I am,” Jungkook announces once his hands are clean and he can safely check his phone.

Taehyung hums as he puts away their aprons and retrieves his backpack from where he stashed it out of the way.

“Does he think I murdered you for real this time?”

Jungkook stops sending a text to Yoongi so he can cover his face with his hands and groan. Yoongi’s reaction to Jungkook sleeping over at Taehyung’s dorm was embarrassing; Jungkook should’ve never told Taehyung about it. He’s sure Taehyung will never let it go.

“Hey, bun,” Taehyung laughs as he wraps his hands around Jungkook’s wrists to pry his hands away from his face. He ducks his head, forcing Jungkook to look him in the eyes. “I’m teasing you.”

“I know, but it’s still embarrassing, and I wish I hadn’t told you what he said,” Jungkook pouts again and wiggles out of Taehyung’s grasp.

With a gasp and a hand clutching his heart, Taehyung stumbles back in offense.

“Bun, friends don’t keep secrets from each other.”

Jungkook laughs Taehyung’s joke off, but as the two men brave the chilly autumn night and walk back to Jungkook’s dorm, he can’t help but think of Yoongi’s comment about them mating. Predators and prey are barely friends; they certainly can’t be mates.

Despite the discouragement that seems to haunt Jungkook around every corner, he holds this naive, childlike hope in his heart that Taehyung won’t hurt him. Speaking as a predator, Taehyung has already promised Jungkook he won’t. Jungkook just hopes that Taehyung will keep Jungkook’s heart as safe as his body.

Once they reach the front door of the prey dormitory, Taehyung asks, “Did you enjoy our PG date?”

He looks so classically like a bad boy in a leather jacket with one hand pressed to the building’s brick exterior just above Jungkook’s head, molars chewing the inside of his cheek, and a lazy way to how he speaks that tells everyone he isn’t in a rush to get out of a part of campus he isn’t allowed to be in. Whereas Jungkook is nervous every time the front door opens and startled prey hybrids cross the threshold, whispering about the predator with a prey pressed against the wall, Taehyung doesn’t pay attention to anyone but Jungkook.

Yoongi said Taehyung would cause Jungkook trouble. When Jungkook stares into Taehyung’s dark eyes and struggles to breathe, he knows Yoongi is right.

“I did,” Jungkook whispers through an exhale. He licks his lips before he speaks again and shivers when Taehyung’s quick eyes track the movement. “Blood on a date isn’t ideal.”

“Not usually.” Taehyung smirks and the curl of his top lip exposes a sharp canine.

Jungkook tries to think about something other than when it would be appropriate for blood to be involved in a date.

He thinks about how perfect their date has been and how he doesn’t want it to end even though they’ve spent the past twenty-four hours together.

“Do you want to come upstairs?”

For a moment, the only sound that passes between them is their breathing as it harmonizes. They don’t smell like each other, only like ceramic dust and the cocoa butter lotion they moisturized their hands with. Jungkook wants to get on his tiptoes and nuzzle the crook of Taehyung’s neck, but he keeps his feet rooted to the ground and his hands shoved into the front pocket of his hoodie.

“Yeah,” Taehyung’s reply is just as soft as Jungkook’s question. It mixes with the wind that ruffles Jungkook’s bangs, dancing along his forehead like the tickle of a kiss.

Taehyung intertwines their fingers when Jungkook leads them through the dormitory’s front door. Jungkook doesn’t know why he’s so nervous as he brings Taehyung upstairs, his heart in his throat and his palm sweaty against Taehyung’s. Usually giddy with the prospect of spending more time with his crush, Jungkook struggles to even input the code to his apartment without trembling fingers. He hopes Taehyung doesn’t notice, though he doubts it’s possible for him not to.

“Yoongi hyung is home,” Jungkook mentions quietly.

Taehyung isn’t perturbed. He removes his shoes and hangs his jacket on the hooks at the door like he belongs there despite being too tall, too broad. His tail playfully swats Jungkook’s calf as he walks past him down the hall toward the living room, where Yoongi is curled up on the couch, unsurprisingly.

Looking up, Yoongi eyes Taehyung suspiciously as he sets his laptop on the coffee table and takes off his headphones.

“Hey Yoongi,” Taehyung greets with a dazzling smile that even makes Yoongi’s cheeks grow pink and his ears flatten in what others might think is annoyance, but what Jungkook knows is embarrassment.

“Hello Taehyung… Jungkook.” Yoongi narrows his eyes at Jungkook when he creeps around the corner to peer around Taehyung’s body.

“Hi,” Jungkook’s voice wobbles, and Yoongi’s eyes narrow even more. “Taehyung and I are going to be in our room, but, um, just let me know if you need anything, hyung.”

With a tug on Taehyung’s wrist, Jungkook leads him out of the living room and pushes him toward the bedroom. Being introverts, Yoongi and Jungkook rarely have friends over, and when they do, they always hang out in the kitchen or living room. Belatedly, Jungkook realizes he’s never had anyone other than Yoongi and Suyun in their bedroom.

“I forgot you guys share a room,” Taehyung admits once Jungkook closes the door behind them.

“You don’t have to stay here,” Jungkook rushes to start apologizing, his nerves skyrocketing now that Taehyung might not even want to hang out with him.

“You’re such a skittish bunny today.”

Exploring the small but lively bedroom, Taehyung is immediately drawn to Jungkook’s desk. It’s solid and made of wood, with a few drawers where Jungkook stores school supplies and various tech equipment. The desk’s surface is a bit crammed, barely fitting Jungkook’s desktop monitor and laptop, with his drawing tablet sitting dangerously on the edge. The adjacent wall is decorated with polaroids because Jungkook is sentimental and cliche. Most feature Yoongi and Suyun, with high school friends thrown into the mix. There are a few prints taped to the wall, primarily of digital art Jungkook has drawn, but also some he has bought online by small artists. The art ranges from BL fanart to abstract designs; whatever little pieces made Jungkook’s heart happy when he saw them.

It shouldn’t surprise Jungkook that Taehyung picks up his tablet when he admires Jungkook’s extensive gaming setup. Video games aren’t a language Taehyung can use to communicate with Jungkook, but art is.

“When will you show me my portrait?” Taehyung muses, his usually sharp eyes rounding out as he juts out his bottom lip. Feigned innocence from a predator is dangerous. “I’ve waited so long.”

Maybe this is what has turned Jungkook into a nervous mess. For weeks, he has been thinking about a gift for Taehyung, especially ever since Suyun pointed out that Taehyung is courting Jungkook—allegedly. Courting is a way to express the intent to mate with someone, or at least the possibility of wanting to in the future, something that only happens within prey and predator groups, not between them.

Yet Jungkook wants to give Taehyung something in return. Maybe it’s because Jungkook is naive for having hope that there could be something more between them. Maybe it’s because Taehyung makes his heart flutter and his stomach flip, and Jungkook feels sick thinking about anyone else’s scent mixing with Taehyung’s and anyone else getting to kiss him.

“Do you want to see it now?” Jungkook asks quietly as he takes his tablet from Taehyung.

He knows Taehyung will want to. He’s already opening the file on his tablet when Taehyung murmurs, “Yes, please.”

Sitting on his bed, Jungkook pats the space next to him so Taehyung can sit down, too. They seemed silly, standing in the middle of Jungkook’s room.

“I’m not done with it yet, so there are still a lot of little things I need to edit, but…” Jungkook trails off, his face hot and his stomach in knots, as Taehyung takes the tablet again.

With a deep breath, Jungkook pulls his legs to his chest and wraps his arms around his bent knees while he waits for Taehyung to finish inspecting the portrait. The simple design highlights the little details of Taehyung’s face. The focal point is the bright amber hue of his eyes, followed by the constellation of beauty marks that freckle his face.

It means something to immortalize someone in art. Taehyung will forever be part of Jungkook’s portfolio, frozen in time with copper curls and a cupid’s bow that Jungkook spent hours shading the perfect pink.

“Bun…”

When Taehyung looks up, his expression is unreadable, nearly blank. It makes Jungkook nervous. This reaction wasn’t what he’d expected, nowhere near the excitement he thought Taehyung would have. Taehyung’s tail doesn’t even flick; it rests lifelessly on Jungkook’s bed.

“Um,” Jungkook picks at the drawstrings of his pants to stop his hands from shaking, “Like I said, it’s not done yet. I need to add more details and some shading; it still looks a little flat. And I haven’t decided on the background yet, but I have some ideas that I—”

Taehyung’s lips steal the rest of Jungkook’s thought, but he would have freely given it up if he’d known a kiss was the unnecessary but welcomed payment he’d receive for pouring his love for Taehyung into his art. The kiss is more than welcomed; Jungkook is comforted, and his confidence is fueled by it.

Taehyung cradles the back of Jungkook’s head with his free hand as he kisses him, keeping him stable so their lips can glide together. It’s different this time, the way Taehyung kisses him. It’s more ardent, even a bit forceful, though Jungkook willingly follows his lead, even if he fumbles a few times because of his desire to keep up. It’s hot and wet, Taehyung slipping his tongue into Jungkook’s mouth to swirl it around Jungkook’s tongue.

No one has ever kissed Jungkook with tongue. The sensation makes his cheeks flush, and his hands tremble when they search for something to hold onto, eventually grabbing fistfuls of the front of Taehyung’s t-shirt. He’s embarrassed by his body’s natural reaction as his tongue pushes back against Taehyung’s in a slippery dance.

“Tae…” Jungkook moans, breathy and desperate, when Taehyung finally pulls away to give them a chance to breathe.

“You’re so talented,” Taehyung murmurs against Jungkook’s lips, his sharp nose bumping against the rounded tip of Jungkook’s. “God, you’re amazing, bun.”

The praise strokes the fire rumbling in the pit of Jungkook’s stomach, drawing from somewhere in his core and igniting every vein it crosses until he feels like he’s burning from the inside out. It makes him scrunch his nose in a bunny smile, his brain loopy and floaty like it had been after he left Taehyung’s apartment.

“It’s good because you’re pretty, Tae.”

It’s true, even if Taehyung rolls his eyes to push the compliment into the back of his head. Taehyung is pretty.

“It’s good because you drew it.”

Both statements can be true; Jungkook is too distracted to make sense. Taehyung’s tan cheeks are a dusty pink from them sharing body heat. The outside of their legs press together from how they sit, and their torsos twist so they can face each other. One of Taehyung’s hands still holds the back of Jungkook’s head. The other sets the tablet to the side and lightly squeezes Jungkook’s thigh just above his knee.

Taehyung’s eyes are lidded and heavy, but Jungkook sits close enough to tell he’s got that wild look in them again, pupils dilated and irises darkened. It’s a carnivorous look, hungry and greedy. For a split second, fear grips Jungkook’s ribs like a caged animal, shooting something icy and piercing into the center of his heart.

Run.

His body screams at him to obey his instincts. The warning is so thunderous inside him that his breathing turns ragged, made worse by Taehyung leaning in as he slides his hand further up Jungkook’s thigh.

“You’re scared of me,” Taehyung’s voice is silvery and hypnotic. The beguiling tone beckons Jungkook, made more tempting when Taehyung’s tail curls around the back of Jungkook’s knee.

Jungkook shakes his head, but he can’t hide how rapidly his heart beats when Taehyung presses his lips over the pulse in his neck, nor can he hide the smell of his arousal permeating the room, especially to a predator with more enhanced senses than he has. He reaches for Taehyung’s soft curls to gently tug on them when Taehyung’s tongue licks broad strokes over the scent gland at the crook of his neck. Willingly, he tilts his head to give Taehyung better access to his throat and lets out a shuddery exhale when Taehyung licking and sucking his neck sends a tingling feeling all the way to his toes. On his next inhale, Jungkook feels his arousal build, making him wet as he breathes in the sweet summer thunderstorm their mingled scents create.

“Ahh, Taehyung...”

“Hmm?”

“I…” Jungkook’s voice cracks when Taehyung pushes the hem of his hoodie to run his hand up his bare chest. His pinky brushes one of Jungkook’s nipples as his palm slides upward, making Jungkook whine.

“You what?”

“I don’t know what to do.”

Saying the words out loud is too difficult; Jungkook can’t bring himself to be direct, even with Taehyung’s mouth marking up his body and slick making him uncomfortably wet. He hopes Taehyung catches on and thinks he does when he pulls back far enough to look Jungkook in the eyes.

The bedroom lights are still on, making Jungkook feel exposed. Taehyung can see him. He can see Jungkook’s flushed face, heaving chest, and glazed-over eyes. He can see Jungkook’s body tremble with a mountain of insecurities he didn’t know he had until now.

“What have you done?” Taehyung’s voice rumbles so deeply that it sounds like a growl.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Chewing his bottom lip, Jungkook nods slowly.

“It’s okay, bun,” Taehyung whispers as he leans in again, pressing kisses against the sensitive skin he’d sucked bruises on the night before, “I can be gentle.”

The soft promise makes Jungkook tremble and slick even more.

Taehyung drags his palm down Jungkook’s bare chest, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Eventually, he curls his fingers around the slim curve of Jungkook’s waist. Jungkook is naturally petite as a prey hybrid, but Taehyung’s large hand makes him feel even smaller.

Closing his eyes, Jungkook lets Taehyung guide him onto his back with his mouth capturing Jungkook’s and his palm pressed against the inside of Jungkook’s thigh to spread his legs apart for Taehyung to fit between them. Despite the icy fear that has melted into lukewarm nervousness about having a predator caging him in against his mattress, Taehyung’s closeness feels good. He’s warm and solid, a comfortable weight that presses down on Jungkook’s hips. It should be scary, and maybe it still is a little bit, but Jungkook mostly feels restless anticipation that eats away at his nervous system.

With his forearms resting above Jungkook’s shoulders, Taehyung brings himself down to kiss him as he rolls his hips into Jungkook’s spread legs, grinding their cocks together hard enough for Jungkook to gasp against Taehyung’s mouth.

“Mmmm,” Taehyung hums as he takes advantage of Jungkook’s parted lips to bite his bottom lip, tugging it into his mouth to suck it.

Jungkook curls his arms around Taehyung’s neck, tugging him down until their chests touch. He can feel their stomachs flutter, each breathing too hard to move in harmony, especially when Jungkook tries to meet Taehyung’s hips with each roll. Bucking up, he throws off Taehyung’s rhythm, making Taehyung release his lip with a turn of his head to chuckle against the vulnerable skin of Jungkook’s throat.

“You’re so hot,” Taehyung purrs.

“Am I?” It’s a genuine question, not Jungkook fishing for compliments, though the feeling Taehyung’s praise gives him is indescribable.

“Don’t believe me?”

The look Taehyung gives Jungkook is wicked, nothing like the teasing, boyish charm he usually smothers Jungkook with when they’re flirting under the guise of bantering. This look makes Jungkook’s stomach swoop and dip dangerously low.

“I… I don’t know,” Jungkook whispers, on the verge of cardiac arrest as Taehyung slowly lowers himself down Jungkook’s body.

“Oh bun,” Taehyung sighs like he’s disappointed in Jungkook’s answer. It makes Jungkook’s cheeks burn. “Do I need to show you just how hot I think you are?”

Taehyung’s wild eyes stare into Jungkook’s as he props himself up on his forearms to better see where Taehyung is now: on his stomach between his legs. He can’t speak and doesn’t even bother trying to when Taehyung curls his fingers around the elastic waistband of Jungkook’s sweatpants and slowly pulls them down, simultaneously unraveling Jungkook’s sanity.

“Lift your hips for me, bun.”

The whimper that slips from Jungkook’s lips is pathetic, breathy, and weak. He does as he’s told and gives up trying to be quiet as he hiccups through shallow breaths when Taehyung tugs his pants all the way down, taking his underwear with them to leave Jungkook fully exposed.

“Such a cute little cock,” Taehyung purrs, dark eyes shooting up to watch Jungkook’s face light up bright red.

Taehyung may have promised to be gentle, but he doesn’t hesitate. His hand wraps around Jungkook’s cock with confidence, his thumb immediately swiping over the precum that has already wet the tip.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook whines through his teeth in a poor attempt to keep quiet.

Yoongi’s presence right across the hall looms over Jungkook’s head as Taehyung begins pumping his cock, spreading the slippery precum in circles around the head with his thumb before spreading it further down to aid in the drag of his palm along the shaft.

Jungkook can’t stop squirming, even when Taehyung hooks one of his arms around his thigh to keep him still. All Taehyung is doing is jerking him off languidly and with a loose grip. Still, Jungkook already feels the overwhelming pressure of his orgasm building and pulsing every time Taehyung’s big hands engulf his cock.

“Fuck, you’re so sensitive. You’re soaking the bed,” Taehyung groans as he uses his grip on Jungkook’s thigh to spread him open further.

Jungkook chokes on his next inhale when Taehyung ducks his head to lick a fat stripe up Jungkook’s inner thigh, quietly moaning when he tastes Jungkook’s slippery slick. The visual of Taehyung’s wet, shiny lips and the sound of his low moan are enough to send Jungkook over the edge. He cums with a wail his neighbors and Yoongi are sure to hear, his eyes squeezed shut and his head thrown so far back that he can barely hold himself up on his forearms.

He only gets a few seconds to catch his breath before Taehyung starts pumping his cock again, the slide this time much smoother and more sensual since he uses Jungkook’s cum like lube.

“Tae-Taehyung, wait,” Jungkook gasps as he tries to sit up. He doesn’t get far. Taehyung’s clean palm presses against his lower abdomen, pushing him backward to rest on his forearms again despite the tremble ripples through his legs.

“Relax, bun, sit back and trust me.”

Jungkook doesn’t understand until Taehyung squeezes the base of his cock, holding it in place so he can keep it steady when he flicks his tongue against the wet tip, tasting him again.

“Tae —”

“You’re still hard,” Taehyung smirks as he tilts his head so he can press an open-mouthed kiss to the side of Jungkook’s cock and licks away the cum left behind on his lips. “And I heard bunnies can cum more than once. Is that true?”

It is, but Jungkook doesn’t know that as a fact. No one has ever gotten him off before, and the times he’s gotten off alone, he doesn’t think he was ever aroused enough to still be hard after. It has to be Taehyung doing this to him, but Jungkook can’t verbalize any of this. Every time he opens his mouth, a high-pitched moan comes out instead of actual words.

Not waiting for an answer to his question, Taehyung locks eyes with Jungkook as he closes his lips around the head of his cock. He suckles the head hard as he massages the underside with his tongue.

“Oh, my g-god, T-Tae,” Jungkook sobs, all his concerns about being too loud leaving his mind.

Everything leaves his mind. His brain completely blanks when Taehyung sucks more of his cock into his mouth with a low hum. He easily takes the whole thing until his nose is pressed against Jungkook’s lower abdomen, swallowing consecutively, each time harder than the last.

Jungkook can’t breathe. He digs his fingers into his blankets and squeezes them so tightly that he draws his entire body taunt. He doesn’t breathe, doesn’t even blink, just watches Taehyung bob his head to a rhythm just slow enough to keep Jungkook’s second orgasm at bay.

That is until Taehyung squeezes one of Jungkook’s thighs and presses it up so his bent leg drapes over Taehyung’s shoulder. Hot tears slip down Jungkook’s cheeks when Taehyung reaches between Jungkook’s legs to ease a long finger past his rim, the slick taking away any resistance. Swallowing at the same time he presses against Jungkook’s walls with his finger, Taehyung coaxes a second orgasm out of Jungkook as if he played him like an instrument.

Jungkook thinks he blacks out. Something skips in his brain, some kind of blip, like a scratched record or a flicker of the lights during a thunderstorm. His throat and chest burn, and his head throbs with the onset of a migraine.

Collapsing onto his back, Jungkook pants heavily. His arms and legs give out, flopping lifelessly at his sides. He thinks he hears Taehyung speak, but the ringing in his ears drowns out everything. It’s almost as disorienting as the black spots speckling his vision. The spots swim to new positions in his eyes every time he blinks, some tiny pinpricks while others are splotches large enough to block out whole items in his vision.

“Bun,” Taehyung calls out to him.

When Jungkook blinks, most of the black spots are gone, and he can see Taehyung’s pretty eyes staring into his soul. They’re bright, a soft amber, and his pupils are back to normal. Rather than lust twisting his expression, concern wrinkles his forehead.

“Hi,” Jungkook winces when his voice comes out hoarse.

“Fuck, you freaked me out,” Taehyung admits weakly. He brushes Jungkook’s sweaty bangs away from his face to kiss his forehead. “You, like, passed out while still being conscious.”

Jungkook scrunches his nose. “I don’t think that’s a thing, Tae.”

“Well, it just happened, and it freaked me the fuck out.”

Taehyung continues caressing Jungkook’s head, running his now clean fingers through Jungkook’s hair. It’s relaxing and contributes to the warm, sleepy feeling seeping into Jungkook’s body. Taehyung just got him off. His pretty, sweet, talented, funny, hot, precious tiger gave Jungkook two mind-blowing orgasms. Jungkook might consciously pass out again.

“Sorry for freaking you out,” Jungkook apologizes with a sweet smile that Taehyung can’t resist. He ducks his head down to kiss Jungkook, though this kiss is gentle and innocent — aside from the fact that Jungkook can taste himself on Taehyung. That in itself makes Jungkook’s stomach stir.

“I’m never giving you head ever again.”

Scrunching his eyebrows, Jungkook pouts as Taehyung helps him sit up and put his pants on. He cringes when he notices how wet the bed is; Taehyung hadn’t just said that to be sexy.

“No, it was nice. I liked it.”

“Of course you did,” Taehyung’s snort ends in a cocky smirk, “I’m great at it. But, also, everyone likes getting head.”

Emboldened by his sexual awakening — or perhaps lacking inhibitions from having a blank, loopy, fucked out brain — Jungkook eyes Taehyung’s crotch.

“Does that mean you like it?”

“Jungkook.” Taehyung grabs Jungkook’s chin and forces him to look at him. “I think your brain hasn’t gotten enough oxygen.”

“Taehyung,” Jungkook whines, beating his fist softly against the bed. “I want to make you feel good, too. Let me try.”

Taehyung doesn’t let go of Jungkook’s face, but his hold slackens as he closes his eyes. He takes a deep, intentional breath that’s shaky when exhaled, despite how seemingly unaffected he is otherwise. Jungkook may not have the predatory urge to devour like Taehyung does, but he likes the idea of pleasuring Taehyung, knowing that he could give back what Taehyung has given to him.

“Please,” Jungkook whispers, and Taehyung can’t possibly say no.

“Hands only.” Taehyung gives Jungkook a pointed look as he settles at the head of the bed with his back against the wall and a pillow behind him to keep his tail comfortable.

Jungkook is riding an adrenaline-fueled, orgasmic high when he grabs Taehyung’s shoulders to steady himself as he swings a shaky leg over to straddle his thighs.

“I want to be able to kiss you easier,” Taehyung admits when he explains why he prefers that Jungkook straddle him rather than kneel beside him. It feels like a perfect position for Jungkook, who would spend the rest of his life staring into Taehyung’s eyes if he could.

Taehyung smacks Jungkook’s ass playfully to get him to lift up briefly so Taehyung can shimmy his jeans down until he can pull his cock out. Jungkook keeps his hands on Taehyung’s broad shoulders while Taehyung adjusts himself. It’s nerve-wracking, even though Jungkook insisted that this happen. Sweet, considerate Taehyung was willing to ignore his own arousal; Jungkook wouldn’t let it go.

So why is he so nervous now?

“It isn’t prickly,” Taehyung whispers with mischief sparkling in his eyes, likely noticing Jungkook’s sudden anxiety.

Jungkook smiles shyly when he asks, “No cheese grater?”

“No cheese grater.”

Taehyung’s hand is warm against Jungkook’s when he takes his hand from his shoulder and slowly brings it down to wrap it around his cock. They both sigh at the touch, the back of Taehyung’s head hitting the wall with a quiet thud.

Looking between them, Jungkook confirms Taehyung’s joke: no prickly dick. It looks just like Jungkook would expect, the same general look as his own, though much bigger — not that Jungkook ever fantasized about Taehyung’s dick. He most certainly did not!

“Spit first,” Taehyung instructs and hums in satisfaction when Jungkook spits in his hand before he drags his fist over his cock.

Once Jungkook has picked up a smooth rhythm, Taehyung squeezes the nape of his neck to pull him forward in a rough kiss. Jungkook’s head spins as Taehyung growls into the kiss, his teeth scraping and biting Jungkook’s lips, and his tongue laving over them like a soothing apology. Taehyung doesn’t whimper or whine like Jungkook had; instead, he growls and moans with a low purr that Jungkook feels rumble in his own chest.

“Go faster,” Taehyung purrs against Jungkook’s swollen lips as he bucks upward with a squeeze of Jungkook’s hips to keep him from toppling over.

Eager to please, Jungkook increases his movements, adding his other hand to roll over the wet tip of Taehyung’s cock. It’s a move that Jungkook enjoys on himself sometimes, so he’s pleased when Taehyung groans and tilts his head back. Jungkook leans forward to scatter kisses along Taehyung’s neck, too afraid to suck deep bruises there but enjoying the feel of the smooth skin beneath his lips.

“Does it feel good?” Jungkook asks shyly, his breath catching in his throat when Taehyung’s dark gaze falls on him again.

“Mm, yeah, you’re doing a good job, bun,” Taehyung caresses the side of Jungkook’s face, holding his cheek in a gesture too soft for what they’re doing. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen and he almost stops moving.

“Oh! What do I do?”

Taehyung quickly grabs Jungkook’s hand and continues jerking himself off using Jungkook's hand until he’s confident Jungkook won’t stop.

“Cover it.”

Jungkook watches for a sign and thinks he finds one when Taehyung squirms briefly before his body locks up with a low moan that he releases as he leans forward to nuzzle the crook of Jungkook’s neck. Maybe it’s cliche, but Jungkook thinks Taehyung is beautiful like this, swept up in raw pleasure.

Then again, Jungkook thinks Taehyung is always beautiful.

It’s a messy affair, but Jungkook knew it would be, so he has a small towel on hand. He stays still until Taehyung calms down, only cleaning him up once Taehyung is no longer too sensitive. They’re both loopy and exhausted from their orgasms but also from the unique energy it takes to experience intimacy with someone new for the first time — especially for Jungkook.

“So much for a PG date,” Taehyung grins while he wiggles into the biggest sweatpants Jungkook could find in his closet. They’re still too tight on Taehyung and end right at his ankles, but they’re more comfortable than jeans.

“Our date was technically over, so I don’t think this counts.”

Jungkook yawns and pats the bed for Taehyung to climb under the blankets. The bed isn’t big enough for both of them to lie side by side, so Jungkook lies on Taehyung’s chest. It’s more comfortable than a mattress, if Jungkook wants to be corny.

“I can ask hyung if you can sleep over,” Jungkook offers quietly.

“I’m pretty sure he’ll never want me back in your dorm ever again,” Taehyung says in a grave tone, and Jungkook can tell he’s serious. “I’m actually afraid to leave this room right now.”

“Oh my gosh, Tae.”

“Bun… you are loud. You are so loud.”

With a whine, Jungkook tucks his face against Taehyung’s chest to hide his embarrassment. It doesn’t matter; they turned the lights off, so the room is too dark to notice Jungkook’s pink cheeks. Even then, Taehyung doesn’t need to see Jungkook’s face to know he’s being shy.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s fucking hot.”

Taehyung gently scratches the dark fur of Jungkook’s ears, and Jungkook can hear the smile in his voice. Too tired to scold Taehyung for causing him even more embarrassment, Jungkook closes his eyes and focuses on the steady beat of Taehyung’s heart and basks in the warmth that comes with falling asleep in Taehyung’s arms for the second night in a row.

Even if Yoongi will be pissed when he realizes Taehyung never left.

Series Masterlist

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd &daddytaehyungie).

#taehyung x jungkook #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #venor #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #taekook fanfic

78 notes · View notes