#...to collaborate a little; your lips with my words?

[pipiririo]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

IV. Omg he’s hot

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𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Summary: you finally meet the nerd (it has only been three hours since you heard about him) WRITTEN PORTION AFTER THE TEXTS!

✩ ♬ ₊.written⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[word count: 1717]

“Where do you want the guests at, y/n?” A club member lightly knocked on the door to one of the study rooms in the library—aka your office—to ask you a question. You look up from the laptop in front of you and a small smile.

“Pull up some chairs from the other desks and place them around the back area. That way, the official members will still be seated at the front, but they’ll still be able to participate in discussions.” You thoroughly explained with little hand gestures.

The guy nodded and gave a thumbs up before jogging away to let everyone know of your idea, to which they agreed. A few minutes after the guy had asked about the searing arrangements, you heard another knock on the door, letting out a loud “come in!” while you kept your head glued to the screen in front of you as you typed away an email regarding an event.

Even when the door had opened and you recognized the soft scent of cologne mixed with the smell of a new yet sweet cologne, your eyes remained stuck on the screen, since the email was just that important.

“What do you need, Sho?” You asked as you tapped your finger to your lip, eyebrows scrunched as you thought of how to arrange the next event with the new small sponsor.

“It’s a phone call. The sponsor you asked me to reach out to wants to talk to you.” Shoto’s hand came into view as he offered his phone to you. You raised your finger to signal for him to give you one second as you finished up the last sentence of your email. Beneath your breath, you muttered the final words and semi-loudly pressed enter on the email. You quickly looked up after letting out a loud sigh and dropping your shoulders.

When you grabbed the phone and brought it up to your ear to listen, you were only then able to see Shoto in all his glory as well as another man beside him.

Your lips parted in awe momentarily, eyes slightly widening. The guy standing beside Shoto was looking around the mini office in awe of his surroundings. His hands were in his pockets, the white shirt he wore nicely complimented his build—and he definitely looked like he worked out a lot beneath that shirt. It seemed as though your senses had been cut out until you heard a loud “hello?” coming from the phone. You blinked your eyes quickly and responded to the person on the other end of the phone.

‘Holy fuck he’s hot.’

“Yes, this is y/n, the president of the writing club at U.A university as well as the events organizer for the Creative Writing Honors Society in Shizuoka prefecture. Shoto informed me that you wanted to speak about the sponsorship request we sent?” You asked as your eyes settled to look down at the books on your desk in order to focus on the phone call.

“Yes, I’m sure Shoto went over the fine details with you? Perfect, his summation is the gist of what we do in our club and in the society, as we aspire to create a community in which people of all skill levels, specifically those who do not receive well recognition, can come together and support one another. Your organization seems to fit well with our ideals, which is why we chose you as our top choice.” You spoke in a well mannered tone, keeping a small smile on your face as you spoke, as if you were literally speaking with them face to face.

Your face lit up when the sponsor spoke again. “Of course, we’d love to! Since you will be the ones to sponsor our event, you have free rein on which dates we host them.” The makeshift office became quiet momentarily as you listened intently to the phone. “I’ll ask Shoto to send you my contact information! Thank you so much, we look forward to our future collaboration. Have a good evening!” Shortly after that totally not awkward farewell, you heard the three consistent beep beep beep to let you know that the sponsor had hung up. You let out a very long breath whilst setting the phone down with a shaky hand.

‘Oh my god wait holy— is that him?!?!?’

‘Do I look up—YEAH I KINDA HAVE TO’

After the little internal dilemma, you look up with a small grin and make eye contact with a certain green haired male.

‘I can’t do this I’m gonna explode and die.’

“Hey! I’m y/n, super duper nice to meet you! Sorry for making you wait!” You excitedly say as you stand up and slightly bow towards him.

Shoto stand at the side as he reached out for his phone. ‘Wow, they’re both awkwardly nice nerds.’

The green haired male shook his head, raised his hand to scratch the nape of his neck with a sheepish smile and a nervous laugh. “No, no, it’s fine! It’s nice to meet you, too. Like I said earlier, my name is Izuku.” He responded, but to be honest, you had other things on your mind as your eyes kept wandering around in nervousness.

‘Holy fuckholufuckholyfuckholyfuck no one told me he was ripped, I’m going insane. Is this even normal??? I didn’t know smart, hot, sweet, AND HOT PEOPLE EXISTED?!?!’

Your eyes wandered to Shoto who merely stifled a laugh at your expression.

‘Dude this isn’t funny he’s actually ripped. He—oh…his shirt lifted it’s over for me.’

“—so yeah! I was sort of hoping that you could tell me more of what you guys do here and stuff? I was looking to join a club anyways for my sophomore year, but all of the other one’s didn’t really match with my career path.”

You snapped back into focus as soon as you registered that someone needed you. Tis a thing that happens often, since you regularly help those in your club and are an absolute dork when it came to books and stuff like that.

“Duh, I got you! You can follow me and I’ll show you around! I don’t bite..!” You awkwardly added with a laugh and slowly made your way out of the door as he followed behind you with a pretty much excited smile. He really was there to gain more information.

From across the room was Jirou and Yaomomo, who had each looked towards them with widened eyes. When Shoto walked over to them as he watch the two goofballs converse and walk around the library and their little set up, he started a conversation with the two ladies.

“They’re so awkward, it’s actually painful.” Jirou added after him, making Yaomomo nod in agreement with scrunched eyebrows.

“I think they’ll do fine. Izuku is kind of dense though. Well—they both are.” Yaomomo added.

Shoto shrugged. “I think y/n’s piled up ‘steam’ will get her through it.” He plainly said, making Jirou quickly punch his shoulder as she stifled a laugh.

“Yeah, if she can even get over the awkward stage first.” Jirou added.

“Oh yeah, she can do that.” That was all Shoto had said, making Jirou look over to him with a confused face. Yaomomo then made a small ‘o’, frowning a slight bit as she did. She looked over to you and izuku as you laughed about something silly probably.

“She’s always been really friendly, so I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Yaomomo says.

It became silent for a moment until your loud voice came into earshot.

“And obviously you already know Shoto! These two are Kyoka and Momo! Momo is our vice president and Shoto is our treasurer! Kyoka’s not an official member but she does come and join us sometimes.”

“The shade is insane, y/n.” Jirou shook her head and clicked her tokgue jokingly.

“Anywho…today’s topic will be psychology, sorry for the short notice.” You told the four of them as you got back into work mode. “I wanted to go over a few pieces of advice that we could implement and improve on when it came to emotional value in our writings. I noticed that a few people struggled to vocalize some of their character’s emotions, so I want all of us to help them out with that.” You said as you looked down to your notebook and went over the cute little notes.

Izuku watched you from a couple of steps beside you as you went over tips for the members and visitors of the club. His eyes went over your face as you went over the small details. He slightly coughed into his hand to distract himself.

“We got it?” You asked as you closed your notebook shut, the title being ‘book club help!’

They nodded, Jirou nodding along for funsies, making you laugh. “You’re good at giving advice, you’ll do fine.” Then, you turned to Izuku whose eyes slightly widened when you did so.

“Would you like to watch over us to see if you want to join? We do still need a secretary and a few other positions are open since our other members graduated already.” You asked with a smile, walking away with him as you talked.

“Oh! Yeah, of course! Could I shadow you..if you don’t mind..?” He slowly asked with a small smile.

You nodded excitedly. “Duh! This is my expertise. Plus, I get to know more about you! Ok, ok, club is gonna start soon so we should sit down.”

Izuku nodded as the two of you sat down. You sat at the center whilst Izuku sat on the row behind you. Shoto sat to your left whilst Yaomomo sat to your right. The other official members sat in the same row whilst the visitors sat in the row where Izuku sat at.

‘Here’s to hoping it goes well.’

It was safe to say that it was a long day of helping people, but definitely productive as you listened in to some of Izuku’s advice. You had found out that you were both in a psychology course together but unfortunately at different times.

A long day it was. A long day that would lead into a lot of misunderstandings.

~

—shoto is a nepo baby

—y/n being a good president

—deku was wearing a white compression shirt bcs he was working out with bakugo an hour before that

—jirou bullied u cuz u kept staring at deku

—btw the end does basically summarize the rest of the smau ! (supa cuteness) (i had miscommunication but thats the only conflict i could come up w rn i might change it idk) (I have a few ideas for ANGSTTTTT) (angst is my strongsuit btw...be afraid)

—

Animated dividers created by @/cafekitsune

[pegasusdrawnchariots]

lines from the 1897 play Cyrano de Bergerac that definitely have not invaded my brain or destroyed my sleep schedule

all quotes transcribed in alt text

[auragasmics]

onlyfans creator!toji meeting fan!reader but getting so drunk off of them that he keeps bringing them back & eventually only makes vids with them… *heh*

CAMERA ROLL LOOKIN’ LIKE ONLY FANS!

synopsis! he knows better than to get involved with fans. But upon meeting you, Toji’s found himself in a world where he can only have you—and you alone.

pairings! fan!fem!reader x onlyfans creator!toji fushiguro

cw!3.5k words, pwp, dubcon(?), consensual filming, pussydrunk!toji, doggy style, mean!toji, cunninlingus

mwuahaha, i loved this thirst sm! i couldn’t stop thinking about it!

have a thirsty thought? read my guidelines and start sending them in!

In truth, Toji knew better. While unspoken and better left assumed, it’s still the number one rule amongst fans and creators alike.

The golden rule of never, ever hooking up with a fan. Toji’s all too aware of this, but he’s no saint to abide by the rules. It didn’t help that it was all his friends were recently raving about, claiming that it would boost views—and sales for those with even the slightest glimmer of naive hope in their eyes. 

And when a thought replays like a broken record, it’s only a matter of time before one succumbs to incessant influence—and Toji’s no better. He had it figured out; announce his little plan to all his cock-hungry fans, run their users through an online random generator, and whoever’s name pops up on his screen is his lucky vixen for the night.

But the generator just had to pick you. 

He was blind—or better yet, naive, to the possibilities that could arise from his little adventure with danger. It never crosses his mind that maybe he’d regret the choice of taking down a fan—or maybe he’d fall in love with the idea and add it to his usual lineup. 

But that didn’t stop him from sending you that message and bringing you into his humble abode of a high-rise apartment. That didn’t stop him from fawning over your pretty face and kind attitude, as if you both had forgotten what was to follow through the night.

He was simply so blind to it all that Toji had written off the slim chance of him getting addicted to you.

Until he was. 

Why the memory of Toji slipping just the tip of his cock inside you still lays fresh on his mind and vigorous to his nerves. He remembers how cocky he was, thinking that he’d be the best you ever had, how no one could ever come close to how he imagined fucking you.

But the gummy halo of your cunt enveloped his blushing pink head with a sopping wet kiss, condemning the poor forsaken man down the path of egotistical demise. 

Toji, the Toji Fushiguro was victim to a state that he’d never ventured into before; suddenly his mind was shot blank, his eyes threatening to rest into the dark abyss of his skull and the brawny chest he worked so hard for was rigged with shuddering breaths. 

Within a matter of minutes, Toji was out of his body, out of control, and without a single means of putting up a fight. 

If your pussy claimed his resolve, your body claimed his soul. Every arch, squirm, and jolt gave way to Toji’s heart. He’d even found a serenade within your outpouring moans, every hymn motivating him to his newly found goal. For in that moment, the unmoved Toji was concerned with something he never allowed to faze him—his ability to please.

Toji knew one thing; he utterly had to please you, to bring your mind, body, and spirit to the sheer face of ecstasy. He was always so sure of himself thanks to his past of collaborations, but not a single woman of his past could compare to you. Because, unlike those past collaborations for work purposes, everything that night was genuine. 

The way you whimpered whenever he leaned over for a kiss was real, how your hands clung to every inch of his misted skin was bonded behind the truth, down to the orgasm he had no choice but to sit through because of the suffocating clench your walls bestowed around him. 

The last thing he remembers from that night is the words he drunkenly allowed to fall from his lips, almost begging you to come back. When waking the next morning and found you gone, Toji realised he had to work to earn both you and your trust. 

From that day on, something in Toji has him running ragged on your behalf. All of a sudden, he’s caught up with buying you lingerie he can’t wait to rip off of you, he’s sitting through hours of research to buy the best camera to catch every single moment of filth amidst you two. Why, he’s even gotten into the habit of calling you every morning and every night just to give you a glimpse of the real him. 

A month’s swept by since that momentous night, and within those four weeks—Toji’s reserved at least fifteen of those nights just for you and him. Just this week alone, he “needed” you twice, and tonight would make it thrice.

The third time of making you cum off his tongue alone before he had the privilege of fucking you raw beneath the starry sky. And each time he does indulge in you, he can’t silence the raging urge to leave your pussy plump and dribbling with his thick white cum. 

But he holds back, it’s already an honor to have you raw and he’d hate for something as minuscule as natural instinct to ruin a good thing.

Though it’s that same natural instinct that had him calling you just under two hours ago—and waiting by the door like a new puppy waiting for its owner to return. His friends call him pussywhipped, so immersed in you these days that it’s all he talks about, his newest tease with a pussy that gets so sloppy for him.

Toji could fight back, but he isn’t one to play delusional. Pussy-whipped, that’s exactly who he is and who he’s become. And somewhere deep, deep down in his subconscious, he’s found satisfaction in that. Just a puppy with a—

“Toji! It’s me!”

The pretty croon of your muffled voice has Toji springing off the black leather couch and onto his feet. He looks down at himself—nothing could be more apparent than opening the door and revealing him to wear nothing but black sweatpants.

It’s too late to apply any effort, Toji thought as he twisted the door handle open, yanking the door to greet you.

“Hey Gorgeous, come in,” he hums, his arm racing to lace around the waist of your black leggings. “Hope you didn’t wait too long~maybe I should give you a key soon…”

Returning his regards, You give in to Toji with a swift embrace, linking around his bare waist. “No, I didn’t wait at all. It was like you were waiting—”

“I see you didn’t bring a bag. Why don’t you stay the night…you never do,” Toji interjects as he leans back to close the door. His eyes fall matched to your own, wide and glimmering but afraid to step any further than what’s been established.

Your shoulders give into a heartless shrug, your chin whipping away from his sight as you utter plainly to Toji.

“Oh, I didn’t think you wanted me to, and I honestly don’t care to sleep over either. But I guess if there’s a next time, I will.” 

That’s something you really shouldn’t have said. Toji can’t pinpoint where it hurts, but he knows it does. If there’s a next time? Didn’t his constant calls, random splurge days, and his mere insisting presence give way to his budding sentiments—there’s always going to be a next time. 

“C’mon, don’t be like that! I know it takes a lot of effort to leave afterwards. And you don’t even kiss me goodbye…so cold…but I like it.”

You know the strategy by know as his hands work to court your body to his touch. He’s dangerously close to the thick globes of your ass, the tips of his fingers delicately tracing the outline of your thong. 

Toji’s smooth, that’s exactly why you followed him in the first place, and it’s what got you laid beneath him that first night all the same. Like the best charades, his suave whims soon grew weary and transparent, but it’s his confidence that keeps you around. 

And just how easy it is to tease him. 

Taking a finger to Toji’s chest, you decide to spur him on, to paint an image of what lies just beneath your attire. “I’m wearing the set we got last week…in case you’re wondering.”

His once heavy eyelids shoot wide apart, forcing Toji to dumb gawk at you. “The…red one with the…cutouts?”

“Mhm,” you nod coyly, “But the thong is just so thin and so easy to rip too. Guess the quality wasn’t all that good.”

Toji darts his eyes over your face, his sly azure hues taking in your faux act of innocence. He knows it’s all just to tease him, but with the slightest chance that some kind of truth stands behind your words, he can’t forfeit his chances of making an advance. 

“Okay, then let’s make a deal. Stay over tonight and tomorrow, we‘ll go out and buy the best lingerie that money can buy. How’s that?”

A sheepish scoff rings from your barred lips as you stroll away from Toji, leaving him to stare at your wading presence. “Let me think about it.”

“Oh, but you won’t have time to think…not after I’m done with you,” he adds with haste behind you. 

Your hand settles upon the cold silver door knob of Toji’s bedroom, revealing the sacred altar within a mere glance. Not much has changed since the first night he brought you over—a king size bed that stands in the room’s centre, tall windows with black curtains, a desk in the corner with a computer, and of course, a shelf against the wall that holds Toji’s vast array of sex toys, photos and even a few awards he’s won from the platform.

But as the days passed, the raunchy nature of his bedroom died out when small potted plants replaced the sex toys and trophies. The thick black curtains were traded for white gossamer, and the typical red blanket set was nowhere to be seen in the face of red silk sheets and pillowcases to match. 

It’s a heavy claim to say that you’ve played a hand in his transformation, however, considering that you told Toji how nursing plants are a hobby of yours, you prefer more natural light to enter rooms, and that sleeping on silk simply has its benefits—one could safely make that assumption.

All your observations fall short the moment you sit on the edge of the bed, the mattress graciously dipping beneath your curves. 

“Yeah, yeah, so what do you have planned for tonight?” 

Toji takes his time to reply, setting his heavy hands to brace the waistband of his black sweatpants as he stands before you. “Oh I was thinking maybe some POV shots, I haven’t done those in a long time. Think I should bring them back more often now.”

Musing him, you tilt your head at Toji, a faded smile playing on your lips. “Is that right?

“You know the deal. I’m not gonna start recording until you say so. Why, maybe tonight we don’t even have to get it on film. Can’t we just…fuck around and see where that gets us?”

“That’s a new attitude, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, honest!” Toji flusteredly fumbles out. He didn’t think he’d have to explain it, but some words are better said than just acted upon. And what’s on his chest is heavier than what gravity supplies Mother Earth.

He’s been given the slim window to confess what he wants from you, a question you’ve plagued him with since the second night he called you over. 

He sends a hand to the nape of his neck, mindlessly pinching at the sparse hairs as his frazzled brian searches for the best words to explain his story. “ I just…really like having you to myself. A lot, actually. And it has me thinking…would you be open to being my…partner? C-Content wise, of course.”

“Oh…sure, we can do that! I thought you were gonna–oh!”

The brash clash of Toji’s lips steals the very words from your mouth and pins you underneath him. He more than happily donning the lead of setting the rhythm, painting his kiss against your lips as tenderly as he can. 

Just like that, Toji’s gotten his burning wish within a matter of seconds—and what’s a better way to celebrate than by making his favorite girl cum all throughout the night?

The excitement has Toji running on salacious fumes, his eager hands surging across your body. First he’s tugging off your brown hoodie, pulling the soft knitted cotton over your head on and off onto the floor.

Your leggings follow swiftly behind that, and before Toji can even breathe, he’s got you pinned under him with the lingerie you’ve hinted at earlier with his sweats and briefs joining the array of discarded clothes.

The very set he plucked out just days before with the lacy red bra that barely leaves anything to imagination. He’s already inclined on tending to your pebbling nipples plowing against the fabric. He’s drawn right back to your lips, using his wandering hands to trek across your physique. 

Upon his travels, Toji brushes against the panties you mentioned before, so frail that he could tug on them right now and free you from their rein. Rather, he relies on a mere pinch to inch the seam of your panties to sit within the plushy crease of your thigh. 

“Mm, Toji?” you huff out between a kiss, “Let’s start, okay?”

Frantically shaking his head, Toji aimlessly reaches out to prowl along the top of his bedside dresser until he’s met with the familiar structure of his camera. 

Slotting himself between your thighs, Toji points the keen lens to capture the timeless scene of him between your legs with a single hand. Clicking the camera on, Toji’s granted a clear sight of your bare pussy caught within the camera’s eye. 

“ ‘Kay, camera’s on. Don’t you dare change a thing!

He isn't hesitant to begin, leaving you with a final request to hold your legs back before he’s pressing lazy kisses to the supple mounds of your cunt. 

It’s that first breathless gasp of yours that throws Toji down a spiral of his own arousal. He’s already a throbbing mess, dripping all that precum into the silk sheets, but he doesn’t care. Not when his tongue is tasked with the honor of tracing along the pulsing canal of your glossy folds, just for his greedy ambitions pitting him to suck at the swollen pulse.

“Such a pretty pussy, Gorgeous,” he’s mumbling to himself as blown eyes scale up and down the sinful display.

He wants the camera to catch everything—from the way your fat lips split around his worked tongue to the very twitch that rattles your clit. He carefully shadows the camera over your cunt, his thick digits spreading you apart.

“Fuck, look at that, so soft ‘nd smooth…so wet for me too.”

His thumb rests against the cute pink bulb of your clit, the sullied pad sketching slow, tight circles over the bundle of nerves. 

“Mmm-oh shit!…Toj—fuck, that’s so good!”

“That’s it, say my name Baby, c’mon!” He cheers along your twitching bulb. His name’s just sitting on the tip of your weak tongue, so desperate to break through the air. As its bearer, Toji’s waiting to hear it, the magic word set to pull him underneath your spell.

His hand’s encroach along your supple sides, softly squeezing at whatever fits within his grip. “I know that look, gonna cum on my tongue just how I like it, right?”

 “Mhm,” you frantically affirm with nods, “…it’s right…it’s right there, Toji!”

You don’t have to pay him a teary-eyed  glance to know that Toji’s hiding that sinister grin amongst the fat plush of your folds. That same smile that blossoms into a pout as he guides your poor clit to dance with his tongue. 

Every which way, he’s swiveling your spry mound, All those lazy flicks, pedaling that soft curve of his slicked muscle around your stiffening bud. He’s even placed his hand right beneath your navel, using a soft grip to pull the stubborn hood of your clit back, leaving you open and raw for his selfish amusement.

Your hands race to tug at the noir crown of Toji’s head, keeping his head still while your trembling hips rock against his lush pout. “Fuh– yesyesyes! Toji please! Please make me cum, ‘m so close!”

Toji’s too far gone to keep up with you, his trained hand trembling to find a steady frame of the homemade film. Your nectar’s seeping into his senses, blinding Toji from the surrounding world.

All he can think about is you, all he can taste is that sweet essence spilling from his lips and down his chin. It’s all just a mess he's made out of both you and himself, but when he finally catches wind of your crashing orgasm, Toji’s beaming with the glow of achievement.

Your thighs snap around his head as the weight of your high wrecks through your body in perilous tremors. Your hips drive up against Toji’s gape, stuffing his mouth full with your cunt once more. His greedy forte settles over you again, suckling the chubby swell of your clit against his hollowed cheeks. 

Breaking away from your cunt, Toji pans the camera down to your folds, his fingers gently tapping along your pillowy lips. “That’s my girl! Look so pretty like that, c’mon, we gotta keep you going now. Turn around and give me a nice arch, okay?”

You’re more than willing to comply with Toji’s request, slamming your weak legs shut as he rests on his knees. It takes all the energy ebbing from your body to secure a strong arch, one that has your hips tilted and your ass parading about in the air.

“How’s that, Toji?”

“Just beautiful. Stay still and let me do all that hard work, yeah?” he hums softly.

Toji watches as the lens focuses on the sight between your bodies. His hand braces around his shaft, giving his aching cock one firm squeeze before tapping the head of his cock along your slit. 

“I know you can take it, but what do you think?” Toji hints as he gently nudges himself against you.

You look back at Toji with a proud smile, “I can take it!”

“That’s my girl! Just relax and let me…oh..fuck, that’s the good shit!”

By the rushed dip of his hips, Toji’s subdued by the velvety warmth of your walls, the slickened heat coddling his cock with wet kisses. It’s just like he remembers, tight, warm, and carved out to home all the ridges, the veins and the throbbing underside of his length.

“Look at the mess we’re making,” Toji gloats as he shifts the camera around your sputtering pussy, “And I’ve barely even give you those deep strokes you love so much!”

Those very deep strokes that he’s so fond of too. It grants him the very bliss he can’t get with anyone but you. He’s learning all about how sensitive you are, the pace you, how many times you can cum before you’re fucked dumb, all these things Toji’s taken account for.

As for tonight, he just wants you feel good, his precious girl. That’s why he’s so kind to feed your walls short drives of his cock as you adjust to his size. You’re taking him better these days, your pussy greedily nursing all nine inches of Toji’s length.

He’s got such a fat girth too, so thick that you’re left to squirm beneath the burning stretch. It’s pain that gives way to pleasure all too quickly as Toji reels his hips barely a few inches away from you. 

“Aww, tell me, baby…You like this dick, don’t you? Like how it stretches this cunt to my size, how I’m always hitting that spot, go on, tell me.”

“Mmm…it’s alright,” you attempt to tease, but the stillness in the air carries about a warning with no way of guaranteeing caution.

Toji fists the fragile trims of your thong in his hand, yanking the fabric taunt in his grasp. “Oh…that’s how we’re gonna play?”

In one harsh tug, he’s dragging you against his burly thighs with nowhere else to run from the brutal onslaught of his crashing hips. All the kindness he had for you runs out, leaving Toji on a hellbent venture of proving his words true. His unruly drive has you thrashing straight into the pillow headfirst, pitting your limp body to rock along to all his ministrations without prevail. 

 It’s a rolling barrage, one hard drive after the other. The lewd orchestra Toji’s conducting has the clash of skin breaking about the room, using the meld of your voices charred by vengeful bliss as vocals.

But he isn’t lying; even through his rage, Toji’s still tending to you. By sending the thick bulb of his cock to smother your sweet spot in kisses, each one messier than the last, the coil deep within your core bubbles with another budding orgasm. How could something so mean, so harsh, feel so good? So much that your eyes drift back into your head, your and the veil of pleasure dresses your body like the finest silk. 

All just because you jokingly bruised Toji’s ego. Either way, the fact remains that he’s thoroughly aggravated, and his angered spiel falls on deaf ears.

“Stop lying to me!” He grunts out with a smirk, “ W-We both know you do! Why else would your pussy get so messy fr’ me? M-Making such a mess on the bed. ‘M splitting her open and you say you–”

“T-Toji wait! O-Okay, okay, I do! “ Your whimpering admittance of defeat breaks into the air, earning nothing more than the chime of Toji kissing his teeth.

“C’mere,” he huffs out, pulling your limp body up against his own. His chest carves out your arch like a sculpture, leaving no crevice nor crease hidden from his frame. The grip he has upon you shifts above to the slacked curve of your jaw, leaving Toji’s thumb to strum along your bottom lip. 

His hazy stare catches wind of your misty doe eyes, coaxing a lump to build within Toji’s throat. 

As an act of sympathy, litters of kisses melt against your skin, his unruly trail leading him straight to your dribbling lips. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Toji whispers against your lips, “Y’know I like you, baby. Don’t go being too mean to me or else someone isn’t cumming tonight.”

“O…okay! I’m sorry Toji, ‘m really sorry!” you sob, your hand racing to brace the thick of his forearm.

Your apology chants in his ear like a mantra, coaxing a crooked grin to shine inside the dark room. 

“Now…” Toji giggles, his hazy eyes flickering towards the fixed lens of the camera. “‘m taking a picture for the thumbnail…smile for the camera!”

[cornsoupflavour]

New Collaboration (Twice NSFW Smut)

⚠️18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI⚠️

TWICE Mina Myoi x Sub!Male Reader

Tags: 4.5k words, age-gap, multiple creampies, possible breeding/impreg

While at a popular variety show, you found yourself backstage waiting for your cue. It was a chance for you to perform alongside your favorite artists and one of them was Mina from TWICE. The atmosphere was tense, a mix of adrenaline and nerves. You'd only seen her through watching other variety shows or managing to catch brief glimpses of her at awards shows. But there she was, standing amongst the other TWICE girls.

You could see the rest of them leave for the bathroom as Mina stayed behind to watch over their belongings and their cue. You decided that this was your moment to make the connection. You walked up to her, braving through your nerves and fear.

"Hey, I'm Y/N," you said, extending your hand to Mina. She looked up from her script, her eyes wide as she recognized you. She smiled warmly, shaking your hand. "Nice to meet you in person. I'm Mina. I've been following your debut for a while and I'm a huge fan of your work."

You smiled, your cheeks turning a bright red. Mina Myoi, popular idol from TWICE knows of your work? Your eyelids fluttered, slightly taken aback by her open admiration. "Y–You know about me? I'm so honoured! I'm such a big fan of you...r work with TWICE and MiSaMo!" Nice save.

Mina giggled at your obvious nervousness and the two of you began chatting. The topics ranged from the things you'd be doing on the show to what you think of the industry so far. The nerves set in as you realized how close you were to performing. You found yourself gradually moving closer to her. Mina appeared to be doing the same, her eyes locked onto yours, neither of you aware of the distance between you closing.

The sound of a bell ringing in the distance broke the trance, signaling that it was time for you to take the stage. You took a deep breath, glancing at Mina before giving her a confident nod. "Good luck," she whispered, a playful smile on her lips as the other TWICE girls returned to stand around her.

You gave her a nervous but thankful smile and sauntered off, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildly. As the show went on, you subtly glanced at Mina a few times, her beauty somehow shining through all eight other members. It was as if no one else existed for those very brief moments. You admired how she commanded the stage, the energy she radiated. The feeling only grew as you made your way backstage after your performances.

"You were amazing out there!" Mina congratulated, rushing over to you as soon as you were both backstage. She hugged you tightly, her scent enveloping you as she lifted you off the ground slightly. "I'm so proud of you."

You blushed, the sincerity in her eyes warming you from the inside out. As the other TWICE girls went to rest in the designated backstage room, Mina stayed with you. The two of you sat down in a secluded area and ended up chatting for hours. 

Your heart swelled as you struggled to contain yourself. You got to, not only talk with your all–time favourite idol, but she hugged you really nice and tight too. As the night began to wind down, you found yourselves alone, the cast and crew dispersing to prepare for their next filming. That was when the topic of age differences came up naturally.

"So, you're, what, 19?" Mina asked with a playful grin. You nodded, chuckling at the surprise on her face. "And here I thought you were a little older. You're quite mature for your age."

"T–Thank you," you replied with a humble smile. "You're...?"

"The ripe age of 27," Mina said, resting her chin on her hand as she looked at you. "But I guess it's the experience that counts, right?"

"27?! No way! I could've sworn you were my age," you teased before continuing, "but yeah, you could say that." You couldn't help but let your gaze linger on her face for a while. Such smooth skin... such pretty lips... You stared at her for a considerable amount of time before snapping out. "You've been in the industry a while, and I could learn a lot from you."

Mina's eyes sparkled, and she leaned in closer. "Anything you want to know, you just have to ask." Her lips grazed your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine as she whispered, "And sometimes lessons are best learned by doing."

The closeness between the two of you was undeniable, and the air around you felt heavy with tension. You subconsciously leaned towards her as she did the same. The scent of her perfume mingled with the lingering smoky scent of the stage, creating an intoxicating mix. You could feel your heart racing, the heat in your cheeks increasing, turning them red.

Mina's hand brushed against yours, and your eyes met, locked in a heated gaze. Both your lips were inches away from one another, something in you just wanted to pounce forward and claim her in a deep and passionate makeout. The weight of the moment was suffocating, yet exhilarating. The silence stretched, and the tension built, growing thicker by the second.

Just as your chest tightened, and it felt like your heart would pound right out of your chest, the sound of voices echoed through the backstage area, snapping you both out of your trance. Mina quickly leaned back back, the grin on her face replacing the intensity that had been there just moments before.

"Guess I better get going," she said, straightening her outfit. "The girls are gonna get cranky if I leave them for too long... but you've got a bright future ahead of you. I'm looking forward to seeing what you do next."

She gave you a final warm smile before she slipped away, leaving you standing there, your mind reeling with the encounter. The memory of Mina's voice, her touch, the intensity of those stolen moments would linger, pushing you to dream and fantasize about what could be. Your admiration for your favourite idol might have just developed into a full blown crush.

Months passed, and you found yourself 'crossing paths' with Mina at various events. Crossing paths in the sense that you'd steal brief glances at her while in a massive crowd.  But each time, the lingering eye contact and flirtatious smiles sent your heart racing. You found yourself always glancing toward her, trying to catch a glimpse of her in between your own performances. There was something about her that drew you in, and you wondered if it was mutual.

After one of M Countdown's award shows, you found yourselves waiting backstage once again. The anticipation of the night's events, and the memories of your previous encounter, made your nerves skyrocket. Mina spotted you and walked over with a bright smile, separating herself from the rest of TWICE momentarily. Her confidence commanded the space around her.

"Oh my, you look amazing tonight," she complimented, her eyes looking you up and down before settling and on yours and never leaving. "It's been a while since we've seen each other. How have you been?"

"I've been doing pretty well," you said, feeling your cheeks heat up. "A little busy, but it's been great. How about you?"

Mina laughed softly. "Y'know, same old, same old. But I'm glad to see you doing well. You've got a lot of fans out there rooting for you."

"Likewise for you too. Hell, I'll always root for you... and TWICE... yeah."

Mina let out a sultry giggle as the two of you began chatting about various things, from the music you both enjoyed to the latest scandal in the industry. Mina's hand brushed against yours as she gestured, and a jolt shot through you, making you wish that contact would linger. You could feel the tension build between you, the air thick with unspoken desires.

"You know, we should do something together," Mina suggested, her voice soft and sultry. "A collaboration, maybe. I bet it would be amazing. Fans might like that as well, what do you think?"

"T–That would be incredible, I'd love to," you stammered, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. Your eyes met hers, and the intensity was palpable. You could feel every nerve in your body tingling, as if electrified by her presence.

A few more comments were exchanged, small jokes shared, and the tension between the two of you grew. Mina leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your ear. "I think I'll be staying up late tonight, and the girls are gonna be out... Want to join me?"

Your breath hitched, and you could only manage a nod, your mind reeling at the possibility. The heat between you was almost unbearable, and it felt like the world had slowed down, leaving the two of you to exist in a bubble.

"Excellent, I'll see you back here once the place has cleared up a little~"

The conversation ebbed away, replaced by the chaos and noise of the after–event. The weight of the moment hung in the air, heavy and thick, as Mina departed with a wink and a smile.

The night continued to unfold, and you found yourself seeking her out, unable to shake the pull she had on you. Your heart raced with anticipation as you waited for the event to come to a close, dying to deepen connection with her.

The event finally came to an end, and the guests began to disperse, leaving behind the echoes of their laughter and conversations. You met with Mina at the decided spot before she led you back to the hotel she was staying at. Her hand clasped yours as you walked through the empty halls.

"I think a collaboration between us could work perfectly," Mina said as she unlocked the door to her hotel room, gesturing for you to enter. "You have quite the unique sound, and I think our voices would mesh well together."

As you crossed the threshold, the room was dimly lit, the only light filtering in from the city skyline outside. Mina closed the door behind you, the quiet of the moment hanging in the air.

"Have a seat and we could talk about it. Could I get you anything to drink?" she suggested, motioning to the couch. You shook your head as you sat down, your heart thudding in your chest.

"So... what kind of vibe are you going for?" you asked, trying to keep your mind focused on the task at hand, the desire for her still palpable.

"Hmm... How about something that showcases both our styles," Mina replied, taking a seat beside you. "Maybe, a mix of hip–hop and R&B. The lyrics could focus on breaking free from societal expectations and finding one's true self. The chorus should be catchy yet poignant, with a hard–hitting beat."

The two of you continued to discuss ideas, concepts, and possible producers for the collaboration. The conversation flowed effortlessly, your minds mingling as easily as your bodies seemed to desire. As you talked, Mina's hand crept closer to yours, her fingers brushing against yours every now and then.

"Okay! Now that that's settled, I'm really excited to get started on this," you said, the passion in your voice reflecting your feelings for the project, as well as the woman beside you.

"Me too," Mina replied, her voice low and sultry. "Let's celebrate the start of our collaboration~"

Her hand found yours and her thumb began to trace circles on the back of your hand, the contact both calming and arousing. You could feel the heat radiating from her touch as she leaned in, her lips inches from yours. Your eyes were locked on her lips... something about them looked so... delicious... 

"To new beginnings," she whispered before pressing her lips to yours. The kiss was soft, tender, and as it deepened, it grew more intense. Mina's hand traveled up your arm, her fingers lightly brushing against your neck.

You could feel her breasts pressing against your chest as she climbed atop you, the heat of her body igniting a fire within you. As the kiss continued, her hand slid under your shirt, tracing gentle circles on your skin. The pleasure from her touch sent shivers down your spine, and you could feel your body responding to her touch, your arousal growing with each passing moment.

"Are you ready for our next chapter?" Mina asked, her breath hot against your ear as she nibbled on your lobe.

Your body ached for more, more of this stunning older woman you've admired for so long. The beginning of this new chapter had you both on the edge, ready to embark on a journey of passion and collaboration.

Nodding, you surrendered yourself to the moment, your body eagerly responding to Mina's touch. She guided your hand to her breast, letting you feel her firmness through her top. Her nipple hardened against your touch, the silky texture of her shirt doing little to dampen the sensations.

"Mhmm, just like that," Mina moaned softly, her fingers deftly undoing the buttons of your shirt. She peeled it away, her eyes fixated on your body as she revealed it to her.

The heat between the two of you grew, and Mina's lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles that sent shivers through your spine. You let out a soft moan, your body arching into her touch, the need for more becoming almost unbearable.

"So responsive," Mina whispered, her voice laced with desire as she began to unbutton your pants, her nimble fingers sliding beneath the waistband.

"God– fuck, Mina–" you let out a loud moan as her hand found you, her touch adding fuel to the fire already burning bright within you. She began to stroke you through your underwear, her thumb teasing the tip. The rhythm of her strokes increased, and you found yourself writhing beneath her touch, unable to contain your pleasure.

"Mina..." you groaned, your voice thick with arousal. "I want more..."

With a wicked smile, Mina stood up, pulling you with her. She guided you to the bed, her hand stilling on your chest as she undressed. The sight of her slowly freeing from her clothes was intoxicating, and you let out a low, appreciative moan.

"Mina... The woman that you are..." you exhaled, your voice pleading.

"Patience, my dear," she said, her voice sultry and full of promise. "I have a feeling our collaboration will be a hit."

With that, she climbed onto the bed, leaving you hanging, eager for more. The anticipation and the teasing had you on the edge, desperate for the physical expression of your newfound partnership.

Mina laid herself down on the bed, her body twisting and turning ever so slightly, making your cock visibly harder and harder each second. She seductively sat up and beckoned you with her finger, inviting you closer. You climbed onto the bed next to her, your eyes taking in the sight that is Mina Myoi.

"Come here, baby," Mina whispered, her voice a seductive purr. "Let's make some music together."

You couldn't resist, moving closer, and before long, your lips met hers once more, the kiss deepening, your tongues entwining. Mina's hand found its way to your now hard erection, gripping it firmly, her thumb gliding over the head.

"Oh, Y/N, you're such a good boy. You've been waiting for this, haven't you?" she purred, her voice a mix of lust and admiration. "I can't wait to feel you inside me."

You fumbled with your pants, quickly shedding them and your underwear. The anticipation built, and you found yourself hovering over her, your cock at the entrance of her wetness. Mina's legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, her eyes never leaving yours.

"Please, I need you– Mommy Mina needs you, baby," she moaned, the vulnerability and desire in her voice sending shivers down your spine.

Slowly, you began to enter her, the tight warmth enveloping you. Mina's moans grew louder, filling the room. The age gap between the two of you seemed to melt away, replaced by the shared experience of lust and desire. Within seconds, you had bottomed her out.

"Fuck– I didn't think you'd be this big, Y/N. I can feel your cock throbbing inside me," she cried out, her nails digging into your back. "Harder!"

You complied, beginning to thrust into her, the rhythm growing more intense as you both found your pace. You could feel the slick wetness enveloping you, the pleasure building with each movement. Mina's moans grew louder, her head thrown back, her body arching to meet your thrusts.

"Oh, Y/N, baby, you feel so good," Mina moaned, her voice thick with lust. "You're so hard... So deep... Ravage my pussy, baby~"

Her hands found your chest, fingers tracing circles, eliciting a shiver from your spine. She began to rock her hips, her movements rough and desperate. But after a while, she made you slow down. It was as if she was savoring the sensation, prolonging the inevitable.

"Mina, you feel amazing," you groaned, your voice rough with desire. "I–I need more of you."

Mina's movements grew more urgent, her hips slamming back against yours. You could feel your own body responding, the pleasure building once more.

"God, Y/N, I'm close... Don't stop, Y/N," she urged, her voice breathless. "Give it to me."

Mina's body shuddered against yours, the intensity building between you both. Her movements grew more frenzied, her moans more desperate. You could feel the pressure inside you, the need to release, to fill her, to claim her as your own.

"Y/N– gnnnngh... Y/N... oh, fuck... I'm so close," Mina cried out, her voice thick with lust.

You could feel her pussy tightening around you, squeezing every inch of your length, spurring you on, driving you closer to the edge. The room filled with the sounds of your bodies connecting, the wet slap of skin against skin, the cries of pleasure.

"Mina, I can't hold back," you groaned, your voice thick with desire.

Mina's nails dug into your back, her body arching, inviting you to take her to the precipice.

"Y/N, give it to me, fill me up," she urged, her voice thick with need.

With a final, powerful thrust, you let go, your release spilling into her, the pleasure washing over you like a tidal wave. Mina's body followed, her own climax hitting her like a freight train, her body convulsing, her release coating your length.

"Oh, Y/N, yes, I'm cumming– Y/N! FUCK!" she cried out, her body arching, her nails digging into your back some more. "Fuck, yes, that feels so good."

The two of you clung to each other, your bodies trembling, the waves of pleasure crashing over you. Mina's breathing grew heavy, her body still quivering from the intensity of her orgasm.

"That was... wow," she panted, her voice thick with satisfaction.

You found yourself wrapped in her embrace, the two of you still joined, the sweat glistening on both your bodies. Mina's hand found your cheek, her thumb brushing away a droplet of sweat.

"Y/N... that was amazing," she breathed, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. "...but I need more. Mommy Mina needs more~"

Before you could even catch your breath, Mina rolled you onto your back, her body straddling yours. She began to grind her hips against you, her wetness coating your still–hard cock. The sight of her, the feeling of her body against yours, sent shivers down your spine.

"I want to feel you all night," Mina purred, her voice dripping with lust. "You're going to breed me, baby. Make me a real mommy, alright?"

Her words sent an electric jolt through you, the idea of impregnating this woman, this idol, almost too much to bear. Mina positioned herself above you, her wetness enveloping your cock as she sank down onto you.

"You're so big for me, baby... I'm so full," she moaned, her breasts swaying above you as she began to ride you leisurely, her eyes never leaving yours.

"Mina–" you gasped, your voice thick with desire. "Please, don't stop–"

Mina's hips began to move faster, her moans growing louder, filling the room. You could feel the pleasure building once more, the thrill of being at her mercy intoxicating.

"Mina, I'm so close... Fuck– you're so tight," you warned, your body tensing with anticipation.

"Cum for me, Y/N," she ordered, her voice a mix of desire and command. "Give it to me. Fill me to the brim."

You couldn't resist, the order sending you over the edge. Your hips bucked against her, the pleasure cascading through you as you came once more, filling her even more deeply than before.

"M–MINA~!" you cried out, your body trembling. As you both came down from the high, Mina's body shuddered, releasing her own pleasure in waves. Her juices coated your cock, the warmth and tightness of her pussy as she came almost overwhelming. You could feel her squeezing you, milking your cock as she rode out her orgasm.

"Oh god, you're incredible..." Mina panted, her eyes locked with yours, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her climax.

"Mina... I... mmf..." you whispered, your own breath coming in ragged pants.

But before you could fully recover, Mina's hand found your softening cock, stroking you gently until it began to harden once more. Her eyes were filled with lust, the desire for more evident in every line of her body.

"You're not done with me yet, are you?" she purred, the promise of more in her voice.

You exhaustedly shook your head, your cock returning to its hardened stature. Mina took the lead, turning over, her body arching, inviting you to take her from behind.

"Get on your knees, baby," she commanded, her voice a mix of lust and desire. "Fuck me like the breeding stallion you are."

You obeyed, positioning yourself behind her, your cock meeting her wet entrance once more. Mina's nails dug into the sheets as you began to thrust into her from behind, the new angle setting off a fresh wave of pleasure.

"Oh god, yessss~ Y/N, you feel so good... fuck me... impregnate me," Mina moaned, her voice thick with lust.

Her words sent shivers down your spine, the taboo nature of the idea driving you wild. The thought of breeding Mina, this stunning woman, filled you with a primal drive.

"Mina, I'm going to cum again–" you warned, your voice thick with pleasure as you began to thrust harder, faster.

Mina's moans grew louder, more desperate. "Cum inside me, baby. Anhh... Fill mommy up~"

You didn't need any further encouragement. Your thrusts grew more frenzied, the pleasure building once more. The room was filled with the sounds of your bodies connecting, the wet slap of skin against skin, and the cries of pleasure.

"Oh, god, Mina–!" you cried out, your body trembling as you poured yourself into her once more.

As your release filled her, Mina's body shuddered, her own pleasure peaking, the waves of orgasm washing over her.

"Oh, Y/N, baby, yes... Y/N, you're going to make me a mommy, aren't you? I can feel it in every thrust. I'm all yours, baby~ Take me." she cried out, her body arching as she came.

"You're mine," she whispered, her body still straddling yours. "And I'm yours..."

"But I want more," she continued, her voice thick with lust. "I'm not done with you yet, Y/N."

Mina disentangled herself from your embrace, her eyes filled with desire as she shifted to straddle you, sitting on your lap. Her hands roamed over your chest, her lips finding yours in a passionate kiss. You could taste the lingering sweetness of their previous lovemaking, sending shivers down your spine.

"I want you inside me again, Y/N," Mina breathed, her voice heavy with lust.

You were so obviously drained and tired... But Mina Myoi is asking YOU for a god–knows–what round... You'd be insane to turn that down... You helped her lower herself back onto your cock, the familiar warmth enveloping you as she took you in. This time, Mina chose a more sensual pace, rocking her hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Her breasts swayed with each movement, her nipples hard as they brushed against your chest.

"Oh, Y/N, you feel so good– Just like that–" she moaned, her voice thick with desire. "Your cock is perfect."

Mina leaned forward, trailing kisses along your jawline, her lips finding your earlobe, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. The sensation only served to heighten the pleasure of her movements.

"I want to feel you deep inside me, Y/N. Breed me like the wild animal you are. Bottom. Me. Out."

The words sent a jolt through you, the primal desire to claim her as your own pulsing through your veins. You reached up, grabbing Mina's hips, helping you both find a faster, more vigorous pace.

"Mina, I... I'm getting close again," you warned, your breath coming in ragged pants.

Mina's moans grew louder, her body arching with each thrust. "Don't stop, Y/N. Fill me up. Knock me up, baby~"

You couldn't hold back any longer. Your thrusts grew more urgent, the pleasure building once more. Mina's nails dug into your chest as her own climax approached.

"Oh, god, Y/N, I'm... I'm cumming– I'M CUMMING~!" she cried out, her body tensing, her pussy tightening around you as her release washed over her.

You couldn't hold back any longer. With a final, powerful thrust, you bottomed her out once more as you proceeded to cum inside her, the sensation of flooding her to the brim spurring you on.

"Oh fuck– Mina–!" you cried out, your body trembling.

The two of you clung to each other, riding out the aftershocks of your pleasure. Mina collapsed against your chest as you flopped backwards onto the bed. Her breathing was heavy, her body still quivering from the intensity of her orgasm.

"Let's just lay here, Y/N," she whispered, her hand reaching up to caress your cheek. "Let's just enjoy each other for now... You made Mommy Mina very happy today..."

You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her into a hot, passionate makeout, savoring the taste of each other's lips.

As the two of you lay entwined, sweat glistening on your bodies, your hearts beating in unison. The bedroom was filled with the sounds of your breathing, the aftermath of your passionate encounter settling around you. And in that moment, there was nothing but the two of you, basking in the afterglow of your shared passion.

[Let me know if you want a part two or if you want me to make this a long running story. And let me know who else you'd want to see a fic about.]

[ New Collaboration Pt. 1 – See Pt. 2 ]

[targaryen-dynasty]

FORBIDDEN TEMPTATION.

Aemond Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MDNI; canon typical incest/targcest (uncle married niece), menstrual sex, p in v, fingering, lactation kink

WORDS: 2.1 K

NOTES: Thank you to @lady-phasma and the rest of our little group for this period smut collaboration 😝 and extra thanks to @zaldritzosrose for the moodboard!! I love you guys sm 💕 It was so much fun working with this request. Cheers to the dragon friends🤍

✖️ 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

A poking ache in your stomach is what pulls you out of your sleep, like a sharp, stinging tug that makes you curl into a bundle, clutching your belly. With your husband still sound asleep right next to you, his snores filling the room, you’re determined to not moan out in pain too loudly, though you’re close to failing. 

“By the Seven,” you whisper, a clear strain to your voice, and when you bring your hand down between your legs, the stickiness you're welcomed with makes you sigh. There’s hardly any light of the moon falling into the room, which makes it difficult for you to make out the source of the wetness that coats your fingers, yet the smell lets you know it’s familiar. Your moonblood. 

“Oh, this can not…” you trail off, moaning through gritted teeth as another jolt of pain runs through your belly. 

Next to you, your husband has been roused from sleep by your stirring and moaning, blinking against the darkness and blearily into the night as he tries to understand what is going on. Propping himself up on one elbow, his groggy voice is laced with worry as he speaks, “what is the matter?”

You shift to lie on your back again, leaning up against the headboard. “I… my moonblood has come,” you say. The realization that it’s just your monthly bleeding does bring you some sense of relief, meaning your husband has not yet managed to put another child in you, but it also concerns you. “It feels like someone is clawing at my belly from the inside out… and I can not remember for it to be so painful before the pregnancy.”

It’s an instinct he’s developed over the course of your pregnancy, something you still catch him doing every now and then, but Aemond‘s hand immediately goes to your belly, rubbing small, soothing circles to somewhat ease the pain. And for someone possessing the blood of the dragon, his body certainly emanates a lot of heat. You’re immediately drawn towards him, melting against his frame, warmth radiating off of his bare chest.

Aemond brings his lips to the crown of your head, wrapping his arms around you. “That was to be expected, was it not?” he asks.

“Yes, but it is quite severe.” You flinch again at the stinging pain, though it is not as sharp with his warm hand splayed over your stomach. “Could you fetch me the maester to ease the pain?”

Your husband’s mind, however, quickly comes up with a different solution. “Well, I have heard and read that there’s another way to ease that kind of pain, my love,” he says, a teasing lilt to his voice. “A more… pleasurable alternative that may not completely rid you of the pain, but certainly takes your mind off of it.”

His words and the innuendo don’t surprise you at all. Ever since he truly has learned what it meant to indulge in the pleasures of flesh with you, he’s turned into a starved beast, desperate to get his fill of you every night until your little Baelon was born, and determined to get you round with his seed as quickly as possible again. The few weeks of rest that had been prescribed by the maester were the most difficult for him, struggling to keep his hands off of you. It was the complete opposite to the way he was while you grew up together; your usually quiet and observing uncle turned into a beast, similar to the one he claimed when he turned ten. 

Aemond’s hand slowly drifts lower, and a small gasp escapes your lips, his fingers dancing lightly over the damp linen of your smallclothes. You look at him, your eyes half-lidded with a mix of pain and desire. “Do you really think… it would help?” you murmur softly, instinctively arching into his touch. The throbbing ache in your belly is temporarily replaced by a pleasant warmth spreading through your core. 

“Oh, I very much believe it will,” he whispers in your ear, his voice low and gravelly. 

A sly smile is on his lips as his thumb brushes over your pearl, making your breath hitch in your throat. Your head tips back into the pillows with a moan slipping past your lips. “Aemond…” you whisper, his name coming out in a mere breath, “please.” 

He is quick to bow his head forward, capturing your lips for a kiss. As he tugs on your smallclothes, you wrap your arms around his neck for support, using the leverage to shimmy out of the damp linen. 

You gasp against his lips as his nimble digits ease into your cunt, and Aemond presses his forehead against yours. Feeling you writhe beneath his touch, he lets out a low groan, a small shiver running down his spine at the wanton sight of his wife on the cusp of pleasure. “Relax, my love,” he rasps. “Let me take care of you.”

His fingers continue their ministrations, his touch gentle yet insistent, never slowing down, and your hips buck into his touch. There’s no denying your desire for him, your need for him. And while he focuses on easing your pain, your focus solely lies on him – or rather his cock. It’s always the same, for his fingers are never enough for you. 

Aemond has pushed his sleeping trousers down to the point he was able to free his cock, thick, hard, and the tip glistening with a few beds of his arousal, indicating just how badly he wants to take care of you. Feeling his knuckles brush your thigh as his fist slides up and down his length, you whimper in anticipation while a strained grunt leaves his lips. 

Without another word, Aemond positions himself between your legs, the motion fluid and practiced. His hands glide over the smooth skin of your thighs, pushing them further apart to accommodate him. 

There is some impatience evident in his movements as he drags the tip of his cock through your soaked folds, causing you to gasp each time it presses against your sensitive pearl. 

“Stop teasing me, Aemond,” you whine, your nerves on fire. 

His lips curve into a smug smirk at your desperate whine. “What’s the rush, my love?” 

Tilting his head forwards, he watches as he circles your entrance with his cock, repeatedly pushing just the tip inside… only to pull out mere moments later. While it drives you insane with lust, it also makes you aware of how slick you are for him – knowing it’s not just your arousal he’s coated in now. 

That realization makes you feel shy, and you momentarily try to squeeze your thighs together to escape his hungry gaze – but to no avail. Tsking, Aemond is quick to pry your thighs apart again, raising a brow. “Do not shy away now,” he warns. “A little blood does not repel me.”

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you nod meekly at his words, and your husband takes that as his cue to continue. Where he usually sheathes him inside you in one, swift thrust, he’s slow and careful to enter you now, making sure you feel every vein and ridge of him on his way inside. You both moan in unison, never getting enough of each other. 

Despite you being quite tense from the sharp pain tugging at your belly, Aemond buries himself inside of you with ease, your moonsblood adding to your slickness. It feels different than usual – you feel different than usual, more sensitive – yet the pleasure it brings is heightened and coaxes you to melt around him. 

Your head tips back into the pillows, but Aemond is quick to bring a hand to the side of your neck, applying a bit of pressure to your chin with his thumb to force you to meet his gaze. There is a slight stutter in his hips as he sets up his slow pace, settling only once he’s found the perfect rhythm. With expert precision, he rolls his hips against yours. Your heels dig into his rear, encouraging him to go even deeper. 

The dull, continuous ache in your belly grows weaker with every thrust, replaced by a warmth that spreads all the way to your limbs, fueled by the squelching sounds of his cock repeatedly disappearing into your soaked cunt. 

Aemond has one hand on your neck and the other positioned on the mattress right next to your head, careful not to put all of his weight on your sensitive body. You take it upon yourself to tug on the low neckline of your nightgown, pulling it even lower to free your heavy breasts from their confines. 

Your body is still providing enough milk to feed an army of children, despite you merely birthing one, and while they are heavy and hard to the touch, wearing clothes has always been a far worse agony. The creamish silk has been damp even before Aemond has touched you, and so it’s no surprise droplets of milk trickle from your darkened buds as soon as your fingers touch them. 

And that is the moment he stops being careful, bowing down to capture one bud with his lips and press his body against yours. It’s a mix between a gasp and moan that slips past your lips, yet it’s enough to make clear the relief you feel. 

The position all but forces him to roll his hips against yours languidly, but neither of you mind for it seems to bring you both enough pleasure. You can feel him suckle on your breast in the rhythm your cunt clenches around his cock. His cheeks dimpled from the suction; he’s propped up on one elbow, using his hand to pinch and roll the other bud between his fingers. 

He alternates between licking and sucking, not keen on wasting just one drop of your precious milk. “Gods, Aemond,” you whine, arching your back against him. You feel him throb inside of you at the despair audible in your voice, spurring him on. 

Your hips move on their own accord now, grinding against his and matching his movements, the pain in your belly and breasts long forgotten as you chase your pleasure. 

A couple of moments pass until you feel Aemond’s breath growing labored, his chest almost heaving with more and more muffled grunts and groans escaping his throat. He is loud – much to your surprise – but your body seems keen at that, the pressure inside of your belly tightening at a rapid pace.

As his lips wrap around your other bud, the knot in your belly snaps. It’s either gripping the sheets or his hair to keep yourself grounded, and you opt for the latter, burying your hands inside of his silver strands. You use the grip to pull him closer to your breasts, more out of instinct than of clear will. 

The sheets below you are soaked with a blend of your arousal and moonblood, trickling out of your cunt and coating Aemond’s cock and the sac of his stones. It’s the tightness of your peak’s contractions that eventually forces the seed from your husband, milking him for every last drop of his spent. His muscles go rigid, yet he hardly withdraws from your bud to release grunts and groans, too drunk on what’s supposed to be for your son. 

He bites down as he spills inside of you, harder than you like considering your whole body is a sensitive mess at this point, but you do not begrudge him – it’s well deserved with how caring and careful he’s been to tend to your needs. 

He buries his face between your now soft and tender breasts as you leisurely ride out your peaks, both your movements slowly, but surely, coming to a stop. You tug on his hair, and the sight of his half-lidded eye and his swollen lips makes you clench around him once more. 

While Aemond swallows a groan, you urge his face towards yours for a kiss, moaning at the taste of your milk on his tongue. Labored breaths fan across each other’s faces as his mouth leaves yours, and you take a moment to stare at each other silently. 

“Is the pain… has it eased?” Aemond’s voice is a hoarse whisper. Panting softly, he sits back on his haunches. 

A small, bashful smile curves your lips, the haze of desire beginning to lift. Your body still thrums with the aftereffects of his endeavors. “I am quite alright,” you reply. “But perhaps we should indulge in a bath. I do believe a soak in hot water may alleviate my discomfort even more, and it seems we have both made quite the mess.”

You notice the mischievous gleam in his good eye. “If that is what my love desires, then consider it done. I shall have hot water brought to our chambers, and then I shall ensure that every bit of your discomfort is soothed.”

[taegularities]

colour me in: seven | jjk (m)

Summary: At first, it's an argument that causes the unwanted, childish distance between Jungkook and you. And then… open blazers and a lip ring.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: est. rel.; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: an argument, cute couple-y things but also they're dorks n cringe sometimes, seven jk (incl the promo pics, laundromat hoodie bf koo, and drenched in the rain koo!!), fighting over food, they're a bit mean to each other, but they adore each other too, brief mention of a rough childhood, sexual tension, taeun being everything, kissing, dumb jokes, period and pms mention!!, a photoshoot!, subtle hints to the future of the main story :'); explicit sexual content: ahh.. making out, dirty talk, oral (f. & m. receiving), brief spanking, face-fcking, light choking, sweet and rough sex, dom jk, big dick jk, whipped simp jk, petnames, multiple orgasms, sex on the couch n on the floor? :'), he loves her a$$ and tiddies, multiple positions, cockwarming!!, mention of aftercare... the ending lol :D ➳ word count: 25k lmfaoo it's oneshot sized yall 😁 ➳ a/n: hi!! welcome back!! this is part of my series colour me in, but you can read it as a standalone-oneshot!! tysm for supporting me and encouraging me, guys, it means so so much. this is also unbeta'd, so pls go easy on me LOL. and since this was a piece of worrrrk.. come and talk to me about it, it makes my day fr fr <33 ➳ listen to: seven by jungkook | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

In hindsight, your argument was blissfully domestic after all. In hindsight, maybe even comedic.

You’ve seen these things on TV and read about them in novels; didn’t experience them growing up because your parents didn’t really fight over such harmless matters. They never needed to lift a finger in their ultramodern kitchen, filled with up-to-the-minute equipment to fill their table.

But Jungkook and you don’t rely on such luxuries. You do things for yourself. So, such a couple-y, casual life leads to couple-y, casual arguments. Requires it. Fighting is healthy; entangles two souls some more.

Which is exactly where you are now. Exactly what you’ve become: A true unit. Quarrelling over trivial, everyday things.

Just to end up folded in half, holding onto the very last of your sanity, biting back more inappropriate screams.

In regards of making up, you’re perhaps not that casual. Because he’s a relentless, brutal beast.

Wrecking you right where everything began.

Monday

The end of the day begins with a giant hole in the middle of your thoughts.

Your previously whirring brain tossed away all thoughts of advertisements and seasonal launches, vacant and dark until your senses shut down everything that wasn’t vital to survival.

Like the lights of the evening as your car passed the streetlamps. The tired faces on the pedestrian zone, the odd wrinkles in your skirt, or the scent wafting from the kitchen when you step out of your heels.

Your mind operates on reflexes and automatic movements; the ball of your palm rubs against your eyelid, realising too late that you’re probably smearing your eyeliner.

A sense of reality only truly returns when you hear a familiar voice call out your name, muffled through the walls between you.

You exit the bedroom with fingers scratching the nape of your neck, tiny steps floating over the floor and past the living room. On the coffee table, you register one or two dishes. Rice, too. Smells so good, but…

As you reach him in the kitchen, you halt at the threshold, eyes scurrying to the few pots and ladles in the sink. He’s diligent and fast; cleans up when dinner simmers. Minimal work left after the meal.

For a moment, you take in the cleanliness of the kitchen, and when your eyes move up to the man himself, you beam.

He’s wearing an apron – baby blue with little flowers and rainbows imprinted on it. His mom bequeathed him with one of her old ones, and he’s been boasting about it ever since.

You saw one with astronauts, moons and telescopes once; you might purchase it for him at some point, not least of all because it includes all the things the two of you love.

A tattooed hand pushes back his mane, messy and pointing in all directions the way it does after his showers. His fingers card through the fine tresses two more times before he turns towards you — an immediate smile, similar to yours, spreads across his face.

The tiny little dimples over the corners of his mouth distract you for a second until you see his hand at waist level, beckoning you into the kitchen and a greeting, sweet embrace.

Compared to the cold outside, his oversized, full-sleeve, white shirt offers a familiar warmth. He always smells the same, musky and fresh; not like cherry blossoms at all, but he reminds you of their softness.

Mixed with the scent of tonight’s meal, you inhale it all, wrapping your arms around him as your eyes close in exhaustion. If he wasn’t swaying you in his hold, you’d probably fall asleep, right there against his chest.

A kiss to your temple, and he asks, “Hungry?”

You’re not sure. You cuddle into the apron and whatever’s visible of his shirt, and mumble against him, “Not too much… to be honest, I was gonna shower and sleep.”

“Oh?” he wonders immediately, traces of disappointment in his voice. “But I made this for you.”

You smile again. “You did?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll eat, don’t you worry.” You take a deep breath, and then lift your head off his chest without letting go. “In all honesty. I saw the food outside and thought you had it delivered.”

“So you were gonna waste something you thought was restaurant food?”

You laugh. You’re sure you could see his rosy pout even if you weren’t looking straight at him.

“No. It just looks very good… I would’ve heated it up tomorrow. But since yours was a one-person-effort,” you pat his back in pride, watching as strands of his bangs fall back into his eyes, “we shall eat.”

“And it comes from the heart, too.”

“Right. It comes from the heart, too.”

You rub his back once, soon backing away. There isn’t much to do for you anymore, but you still grab a couple napkins, chopsticks and spoons as he carries some water into the living room.

The couch feels soft, true Heaven, when you sink into it. Your heartbeat slows down, your mind at ease; when you tilt your head, your neck cracks.

But clinking your glasses of water with someone who cherishes you enough to step back and forth in a kitchen for hours… It's a comfort that’s incredibly close to a peaceful night’s sleep.

And it’s worth the effort, too. Despite the conversation and your complaints about work, you can’t help but compliment dinner every other moment. Possibly another endearing habit you picked up from him.

But you slow down when fatigue returns bit by bit, your eye twitching when you feel a well-known tickling in it.

You’re careful of potential spices when you lift your thumb and rub your eye with the back of it, fighting the itch. For a moment, you stop chewing, and Jungkook only lifts his gaze to you when the movement against your eye continues, circling motions.

“Hey,” he says, grasping your wrist, pulling it down slowly, “that’s bad for the cornea.”

“Yeah, I mean. It’s not like my cornea's been nice to me, either.”

You resume chewing, swallowing the mushy remnants of the rice. Your attention falls back to the bowl of food, and your chopsticks aimlessly poke around for a second before he asks, “Why? You okay?”

“Mhm,” you say, nodding gently. “It’s just,” you point to your eyes, chopsticks dangerously close to your face, “that eye thing. It might be an infection or something. It’s so bad today that it’s hurting my head.”

You’ve complained about the issue a couple times — back when it was just an itch, you assumed it was the dusty town, perhaps even sleep deprivation. But the itch has transformed into a relentless pain, moving up your temples and across your forehead.

“Again, yeah?” Jungkook asks, following with a tender gesture of tucking your hair back. The pad of his thumb brushes over your eyebrow. “I’ll massage your head before we go to sleep.”

You sigh in relief, tired eyelids shutting briefly as you claim, “You’re the fucking best, you know?”

“Yeah.” He delivers a nonchalant, drama-esque shrug of his shoulder. Unmistakable smirk. “I guess I do know.”

The giggles from when you started dating still remain. You remember annoying the hell out of your friends back then, high school butterflies visible through your stomachs and in your bright grins.

Jungkook’s ears would redden, a smile even in your eyes. You can imagine how irritating the honeymoon phase felt to them — not that the two of you ever snapped out of it.

Even now, you’re drowning in it.

Well, until you’re not.

Because the moment he slings his arm around you, leaning back, his plate and bowl empty, you move forwards. Place your own dishes onto the table, cuddling further into him.

Only, he seems to interpret it differently.

“Aren’t you eating anymore?”

Not the message you intended to deliver. But perhaps… he’s not wrong after all.

Because…

While the evening ended on a gentle note, much needed, you’re done with today by now. Craving a warm bed, strong arms around you. A sweet, soft sleep.

And the meal is worth a thousand culinary stars, but your appetite keeps dwindling, and hadn’t he put so much effort and affection into all this, you would’ve probably headed straight to bed.

So you answer truthfully, “I can’t eat more…”

“Hmm.” He briefly points to your portion. “You just ate half of it.”

Brief silence. It must’ve gotten late, because among the quieter traffic on the main road afar, you hear a couple nightlife bugs chirping, too.

You look between the bowl and him slowly, blinking, unsure what to say. The arm around your shoulder doesn’t match his tone, so it feels a little awkward now.

You mutter, “I’m sorry.”

Because should you force yourself to scarf all of this down now, you probably won’t be able to sleep.

But Jungkook’s hums and insecure voice are making you feel bad — you know he doesn’t mean to. It’s the puppy-doe nature, a combination of forlorn, soft eyes and pouty words.

“Ah… It’ll go bad by tomorrow, but…” he starts, but you cut in—

“Fridge?”

An immediate shake of his head, a click of his tongue. “Not with that one. I mean, we could, but it’s gonna be all dry and unpalatable in the morning, y’know?”

You don’t fully have a right to be annoyed. Neither of you does. But the day’s been irksome, work a mess, paper sheets flying around — on top of that, you finished your blister pack of birth control last Friday.

The period, probably approaching tomorrow and meddling with your busy schedule, is already putting you in a sour mood.

So the current lack of a solution doesn’t help your drooping eyelids and still partly tumultuous mind.

You push yourself forward on the couch, sighing before you suggest, “Okay. Then I’ll eat.”

“Woah,” he immediately voices, dropping his arm. He attempts to pull the bowl out of your reach, but you grip it tight, swallowing a small bite of rice. “I’m not forcing you to.”

“Yeah, but still.”

Another sigh of frustration falls out of you, your full stomach crying, but you pull the bowl to you, another bite ready between your chopsticks. But a moment later, Jungkook pushes your hand down again, every rice corn falling back to its prior place, fortunately never leaving the bowl.

Unbelieving, you shoot an aghast glare at him, to which he responds, “Don’t force it. Seriously.”

A rice corn still sticks to your lower lip, and you pull it in with the tip of your tongue. You place the warm meal back onto the table, half turning to Jungkook, voicing an irritated, “Dude!”

“You don’t have to,” he assures, but he looks clearly offended. Looks away, rubs his thigh, eyeing every object on the table before he adds quieter than before, “You know… That’s happened a couple times in the last few weeks.”

“…What did?”

“I’d cook for you and you wouldn’t finish it.”

“Babe… The last few weeks have been tiring.”

“I know,” his voice grows higher at the end of the syllable, but then calms again after a sigh. “But we refrigerated a lot of stuff, some of which I shared with Joon or Tae the next day. Or threw away.”

“Nah.” The ridiculing smirk you respond with isn’t intentional. You drop it right away, but still shake your head in disbelief, defending, “You know I eat up most of the time, especially when you cook. Just today, I can’t do more than this, okay?”

He gulps. Two fingers scratch his ear, eyes once again skimming over empty plates or remnant-filled bowls. He drops his digits back to his thighs, rubbing once more, and then puffs out a breath between rounded lips before he comes to a stand.

And then, all he does is nod; shooting a simple, “Alright.”

His tone is stern. You recognise the expression — his eyes still big, but different now. Usually filled with warm sparkles, they look pissed now. Not because of his dropping lids or the missing crinkles.

Jungkook doesn’t need to move a lot of muscles to look angry; the lack of the glimmer is just enough. 

His lips are shut, not parted as they usually are when he focuses on something like his art or cooking or cleaning up. He’s exhaling and inhaling deeply through his nose, hands working on the dishes, but the fall and rise of his chest…

“You’re mad,” you conclude.

He looks back at you, the corners of his mouth never moving. His tone remains flat as he tries to convince you, “No. All good.”

Straightening his back, he attempts to walk away, hiding away in the kitchen until you’ve fallen asleep. He and you don’t argue too much — the little, couple-y, casual fights aren’t quite fights at all.

But they do end with a short distance until one is ready to approach the other and communicate again. A good strategy to cool your minds. You wouldn’t wanna discuss such a thing right away.

This time, however, you don’t want him to leave.

You pull him back again, holding onto the cotton shirt, and he protests with a loud call of your name and furrowed eyebrows as you insist, “No, you are mad.”

Your hand pushes against the couch, your body lifting, and you look him in the eye with a frustrated crease between your eyebrows. “Kook, I just am not capable of finishing it right now. You’re making a bigger deal out of it than you sho—”

“Yeah. Okay,” he interrupts, feigning acceptance and understanding, “it’s fine.” You scoff; sometimes, he’s truly as moody as you. “Things are different here, it’s fine.”

…What?

The sentence nearly comes out as a whisper as he finally starts walking away, and you only register it when he’s halfway out of the room. He balances the dishes in both hands, and you follow him to the kitchen.

Ask, “What’s different? Where’s here?”

“I work, too, you know? I get tired, too.”

“Jungkook,” you try again, slamming the hand against the counter; the sound’s muffled by a bright green cleaning cloth. “What are you talking about, things are different here?”

“Just.” He doesn’t seem to wanna talk. Carefully, he places the empty stuff in the wash basin, working on finding containers to dump the leftovers in them. “I get tired from working in the city, too, but I guess I grew up differently.”

…Huh.

You wait.

Let him collect his thoughts until he tells you, “In the countryside, you work for food, so you get used to finishing dinner. I know people around here rely on supermarkets, and honestly, I do, too,” his shoulders rise as he shovels the tofu dish into a box, “and I guess that’s why it makes sense why it’s easier for you to leave leftovers.”

Wow. Some statements in this world you live in are genuinely unfair.

You understood each of his words and lectures perfectly, but you still voice a little, “Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re not being serious.”

“Maybe.”

You blink. Then blink a couple times more. Observe as he closes the boxes and puts them in the fridge with a sigh. And you feel bad, you swear, you do. But that unnecessary turn of events…

“So what, you mean we don’t work for our food, right?” you counter, a hand on your waist. “We might do less physical labour, so that must mean we don’t appreciate what we get, yeah?”

Damn. And what if there’s more to that? What if—

“Or do you think it’s because I’ve always had enough money to not worry?”

Okay. Perhaps a long shot. He didn’t say it, but what if that’s exactly what his thought process was, too?

Your inner panic, invisible on the outside, grows when he doesn’t answer, lips firmly locked as if they didn’t just spew some crisp bullshit. You fold your arms, sucking air through your nose, and then demand, “Apologise.”

And when his eyes lift to yours, you freeze. God, they’re deadly. And his ingenuine laugh even more so as he throws back, “No, you apologise. Especially for assuming things I neither said nor thought of.”

“You were rude. I’m asking you nicely to take it back.”

“As nicely as I cooked for you. World’s in balance again, I guess!”

He throws his hands up, staring at you until he’s passed you by, eyes rolling. His nonchalant, idle movements rile you up more, and you can’t help but participate further in that odd exchange.

“You douchebag,” you call out, shutting the bedroom door as you reach inside, “I’m not a snob. I’d always finish my stuff, you can even ask the cook in my old house. He loved me because I wasn’t a picky eat—”

“Listen,” he interjects again, “I know. It's fine. I’ll sleep,” he points to the bed, “because this tired me out. Just drop it.”

“So you can drop it as you please?”

“Nah, just asking you to rest,” the first word comes out louder than he anticipated, his shrug vexed and vexing. He clears his throat. “And I’m sure you’re tired of this, too.”

You groan.

“And if I want to—”

“It’ll just escalat—”

“Dude, I—”

And once more, he showcases his annoyance when he glares at you from the other side of the bed, shutting you up, blanket already lifted. You anticipate another rude remark, a way of justification or to blurt something he doesn’t mean.

But despite his recent idiocy, you don’t deem him an asshole. Not to you, at least. Which proves right as he takes a breather, one knee hitting the mattress as he finally states—

“Let’s sleep over it, okay?”

The tone still isn’t as peaceful as it could be; you know it’s a tactic to dodge a fight. You might not be on your best domestic side tomorrow yet. But his question is final and his gaze even stricter.

So you reluctantly sigh, eyes still fiery as you breathe, “Fine.”

But it’s not fine. And the turbulent week ahead, filled with chaos for you and peak comedy to others, might just be about to prove it to you.

Tuesday

You chew on your bites until the taste turns bland.

Still distracted from last night’s exchange, you barely register the tart spicy quality of your dinner; a shame because this restaurant is your favourite place to frequent with friends.

Today, you’re toying with your cutlery, catching a glimpse of your grim reflection in the spoon every now and then. Whenever Jungkook’s elbow touches yours, your heart skips a bit, bleeding as much as your eyes want to water.

With how he’s smiling at your friends, appetite never faltering, you could burst into tears — because somewhere inside, you miss him despite the constant proximity.

Perhaps he does, too.

Because you notice when he drifts closer on purpose, casually putting his hand over yours. Seemingly lost in conversations, he rubs his thumb against the soft back of your hand; but when you look at him, you can’t muster a smile just yet.

It’s your ego, your stubbornness. Pieces of you want to stay pissed. You keep your cool, but try to avert your eyes whenever possible.

And when you, obstinate as last night, pull your hand from under his, you register the defeated sigh.

But instead of starting a new topic, he retracts his fingers, putting his arm on his table as he busies his other digits with his meal. When you dare a glance, the pretty curves of his blooming lips tug upwards, listening to Taehyung’s story.

Either hiding the discomfort between you or not feeling it.

Odd, because he’s your constant centre of attention.

“Yeah, I mean. Every job is stressful, you know? But it’s wholesome, too,” Taehyung narrates. You blink the silent pining away, and focus. “Like, one of my patients is an elderly man, a lot weaker than his wife. And she always comes with him, every single time.”

“She just waits for him the entire time?” Jungkook asks.

Next to Taehyung, Eun nods; she’s probably heard the story before.

“I mean, she entertains us, is more like it,” Taehyung explains. “He’s been getting geriatric physiotherapy to regain some strength, so he needs all the motivation he can get. And those two are such… dorks. They bicker all the time.”

You smile. Reminds you of when Jungkook and you first met. Persistent, pointless rivalry.

Perhaps Eun hasn’t heard all of this after all. Because as she cuts her dinner, she asks before stuffing her mouth with a bite, “How so?”

“Like. She’ll tell him to not be a baby and take that last step during gait training.”

From your right, Jungkook’s laugh reverberates like a melody from above, sickeningly sweet and amused. “Sounds like me and you at the gym, doesn’t it?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, flicking away stray hair with his forefinger, “Yeah, only because you can lift weights that’d break my arms.”

Another chuckle from the side. Even you smile a little.

Your man is strong, alright — and you’ve always admired it, experienced it a couple dozen times.

You’ve yet to see him work out at a proper gym; the home workout sessions barely count.

Ugh. The violent heartbeat beneath your chest picks up on pace again, and you take a deep breath to calm it just a little.

“Anyway,” Taehyung continues, “then she’ll tease him how the neighbour downstairs has much more flexible legs than he does and he’ll argue how she should’ve married him… and then she tells him that she would’ve if she didn’t love his old ass so much.”

When you giggle, covering your chewing mouth behind your hand, he adds, “I swear! It’s the most standard old couple banter if I’ve ever seen one. Thought that stuff only happens on TV.”

Eun, still busy with the remnants of her meal, doesn’t look up but asks, “So they joke around like that? They don’t get mad at each other or anything?”

“They act like they do. Not a sliver of jealousy or anger in them, though. Insane… and adorable. I guess when you’re married long enough, that’s how relationships turn out. And they should, too, you know?”

Hmm…

You side-eye Jungkook for just a moment, but don’t say anything.

You don’t know what’s written in your future. No clue whether he’s a permanent presence in it, a firm part of your fate or not; you strongly hope for an eternity.

You want to picture him and you grey and old. Wrinkled hands, adorned with blue veins holding each other. Weak smiles and crinkles around his eyes, hidden behind glasses, ever-present.

If he’s your future, you hope to laugh about such fights one day. Hope to let people wonder whether you’re actually furious with each other, veiling unbridled affection behind snarky remarks.

Just… right now, you can’t laugh about it just yet. You still feel oddly offended by his words last night, and it doesn’t help when tonight seems to drift towards a similar ending.

Because as you ask for the bill at the end, Jungkook still pays. You don’t think about it too hard, letting him do, staying seated to finish your drinks.

But your exhaustion reaches a new, entirely unnecessary peak when he starts cracking his fingers. On any other day, you’d put a hand over his, reminding him not to and move on.

Today, you’re in a bad mood, and your demands come out accordingly piqued.

“Stop it.”

“Hm?” he voices, looking at you, the warm light of the restaurant reflecting in his dark brown eyes.

“This,” you point to his fingers, “stop that.”

“Why?”

“Because you know it makes me cringe. A bit annoying.”

Eun, still unaware of the tension between him and you, shrugs her shoulders, “I know that irks a lot of people, but I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“Because you do it, too,” Taehyung complains; she mocks him with a sly smirk and a quiet, Yeah, yeah. He adds, “I can’t stand it, either.”

You lift an open palm towards him, nodding, “So you understand.”

“I’ve seen you do it, too,” Eun argues with a light push against his shoulder, “multiple times!”

“But not as often as you. You start and do not stop.”

You immediately agree, “He’s just like that, too!”

To which Jungkook interjects, his voice still calm; but you still hear the growing aggravation in his voice when he starts, “Honestly, I—”

“He actually has a couple habits that are just—”

You blow a raspberry.

Your interruption triggers Jungkook. And your words, admittedly not quite the sweetest, don’t sit well with him, either, because a moment later, he’s leaning forwards again. Looking at you directly before he continues his irritating bone-cracking.

You grit your teeth and repeat, “Stop that.”

“What?” he shoots back. You flinch. “A habit you despise so much, yeah? I don’t get the same intense reaction when I do something nice for you.”

So untrue.

Fucking hell. He’s talking about yesterday again.

You exhale through your nose, possibly resembling a bull ready to attack; Taehyung and Eun shrink in front of you, grimacing at each other. You’d laugh if it wasn’t you trapped in that exasperating back and forth of exchanges.

“Oops,” Eun whispers, yet overshadowed by your words as you defend, “That’s not true.”

“Maybe,” Jungkook says, shrugging a shoulder with an outrageous smirk, “but you never get that angry when I crack them at home.”

“I just don’t say it.”

“Oh? What else do you not say, hm?”

Taehyung dares an attempt, “Guys.”

But you’re too heated, a little stupid, very ridiculous as you spit, “Like, how irritating it is that you smack your lips every other second.”

Jungkook puffs out a breath. Looks to the side, straight into Eun’s direction who sinks a little more. He curls his lower lip in, running his tongue over it, jaw clenched and sharp. If you weren’t so focused on your temper, you’d find it scorching hot.

In a harmless little fight, you’d keep annoying him until he lost it eventually, mounting you and shutting you up in the very tempting Jungkook-esque way he knows.

But not here, not right now.

Instead, he fucks you up further as he sneers, “Right.”

“Or,” you continue, “that you don’t clean up your working space after painting.”

“What?” He furrows his thick eyebrows, ignoring Taehyung’s call of Jungkook’s name. “I mean. You have all your documents scattered on the desk. I might need it, too, y’know?”

“Why don’t you say it then?” you ask, tilting your head with one cocked eyebrow of yours.

“‘Cause I wanna let you work? ‘Cause it’s important for me that you’re able to focus?” He looks away again, tutting; his shoulder moves with his deriding laugh as he mumbles, “The fuck, really.”

Somewhere inside, you feel bad. You know his words are true. But you can’t tell him yet; so you just glare at him.

As silence finally falls upon you, Eun moves towards the table again, glancing between the two of you as she wonders, “What’s wrong with you guys?”

Everything.

“Nothing,” you say.

“…You wanna go?”

You wait. Jungkook doesn’t answer. Looks to the ground. When you don’t respond either, his eyes lift to yours, still big but not as enthusiastic as usual. Intimidating even.

You stay still, so he only voices, “Uh-huh.”

And the couple, enduring your awkward moment, lets you go gladly. You pack up, finishing your drink, and when you leave your table, you notice just how many people were staring at you.

Still are.

You really embarrassed yourself in front of a crowd, huh?

As the daughter of rich parents, owning a huge ass clothing brand, this isn’t something you should’ve done. But you pray and hope that you won’t wake up to a headline, or that journalists won’t interpret your little feud as a reason to break up or some nonsense like that.

Trouble in Heaven, they’d call it. Predictable little cockroaches.

You trudge past the customers with a deep breath in; Jungkook doesn’t seem to care much, because he walks ahead, hands in the pockets of his linen cotton slacks. Doesn’t look around.

Only bids Taehyung and Eun goodbye; tells you to buckle up when the two of you get in your car; curses once or twice when he misses the green light by a second.

And when you’re at home, sighing as the night approaches its end, you shake your head. Unbelievable whatever transpired back at that place. And you thought you were warming up to each other again.

Guess it’s your fault this time.

Which is why you hum when he calls your name, watching you put on your nightwear; bed ready while you still need to take off your makeup.

His question baffles you; more so with the slightly irate tone.

“Will you still give me a good night’s kiss or?”

You roll your eyes. Don’t say anything; grab your skincare products before you get to work.

He sighs once more; you see the shake of his head before you disappear into the bathroom, hear him say, “Whatever.”

But when you come out with a light rosy scent on your skin and jump under your blanket, you still shift towards his slowly drifting body. His arm under his head, eyes closed, lower lip pouting that you target carefully and—

Press the lightest kiss against.

Immediately, you turn around. Imitate his position.

He doesn’t reach out to you as he usually does, pulling you into his arms. But you still feel the petal-soft brush of tender fingers against your arm before the touch retracts again — and eventually, you fall asleep.

WEDNESDAY

The only reason Jungkook accompanied you to the laundromat is because your clothes gathered into a huge mountain. Neglecting your responsibilities at home, you brought two bags, and he insisted on helping you out.

It's late afternoon. Work tired you out, dinner is still pending; you don’t want to be here. And the place is empty; a yawning void. Just you, alone with your tank-top and grey-blue zip up hoodie clad, messy-haired boyfriend.

The retro plastic laundromat seats tired him out, so he’s standing at the far back. His eyes follow the tossing and turning of the clothes in the washing machine, and sometimes, they trail back to you.

And you — you’re sitting in a corner, arms folded, still uncertain whether you should wait for an apology or opt for one yourself.

The distance is childish. You’re way more mature than that.

But your fight is childish, too, and you guess sometimes, even healthy couples fall back into kindergarten routines.

Once the clothes are done and dry, the journey back home approaching, he helps you out. Tramps to you, mutters a little, “Gimme. I’ll take this.”

The bag strap drags his hoodie off his shoulder a little, revealing the flowery tattoo. He doesn’t fix it; lost in thoughts and silent until home. As if he wants to say something, but doesn’t.

In the apartment, he asks, “Dinner or takeout?”

And you, learning and indisputably craving his affection in any shape or form, answer, “We can make dinner.”

“I’ll do it. Get some rest.”

You sigh in relief. There’s solace in your gratitude — today was arduous, much like the preceding days of this week. You bide your time until he’s done, and then help him set the table and clean the kitchen.

The evening passes without any hostility, but ends without many gestures of fondness, too.

THURSDAY

“You don’t need to come, too. I bet you’ve other stuff to do.”

Jungkook adjusts to your steps. He snatched a jacket way too insufficient for the frosty weather, but he won’t hurry if you don’t. Doesn’t stray from your side.

So you walk faster. Then he does, too.

He rubs his nose, shrugs a shoulder and responds, “I’ve nothing much to do today, really.”

“Yeah, but,” you pull at the sleeves of his jacket, urging him to rush through the wind, “you’ll get bored. And I’m a big girl.”

“I know that. But it’ll be fine. Wanna make sure you’re okay, too.”

He nudges your elbow. You can’t pinpoint whether he’s daring an attempt to set things right or is genuinely concerned. Or both. In some way, the tension between you lingers, and you can’t shake off the awkward feeling just yet.

So you only nod, holding off an answer for a moment. Staring ahead, you listen to the soft sounds of the city, blinded by headlights soon passing you by. A bit longer and the first snow will fall.

The consoling feeling of winter days draws closer, feels warm despite the frigid wind. Hot chocolatesque. There’s just something about wool shawls and warm jackets and old, animated Christmas movies.

One thing you miss about living in your parents’ big, fancy house in your very old neighbourhood is the chimney. The soft yellow and orange of the crackling fire, melting the cold over your skin.

Sometimes you’d sit on the fleecy white carpet, protected by a thick, warm turtleneck sweater, watching the dancing flames.

You wonder again — if Jungkook and you are truly written in the stars as one, will you move into a bigger place one day? Save money and expand the comfort of the current apartment, investing in even more soothing walls with a couple little additions.

Not the lush, exaggerated luxury you grew up with. Not necessarily anything snobby.

But casual, domestic things, like a fire side you can sit in front of, drinking tea, slow dancing and giggling in the dark. Lit by the chimney fire; familiarity.

You sigh.

“It’s been long since I went to the dentist, too,” Jungkook then says, and you hum. That’s sudden.

“You should go then.”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes darting from your face to your hands. You unintentionally bury them in the pockets of your jacket the moment he reaches out for you; and when he understands that you didn’t notice, he curls his fingers into fists. “Maybe I can get an appointment now? Do they take walk-ins?”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I don’t know.” Then, upon realisation, you laugh a little and say, “I’m not going to the dentist.”

“What?”

“What?” You stare back with eyes as big as his. “Optometrist, Koo.”

His raised eyelids are nothing new. He’s attentive when it comes to you; recognises, notices and remembers every little thing. But you guess he truly has been tired, too.

And you feel bad for not considering it as much as he considered it. The reason he cooked for you in the first place, right?

You press your lips into a line, stare down to a puddle on the ground; an aftermath of the rain.

“Oh,” he makes, “why did I think we were going to— Sorry. My bad.”

In actuality, you did wonder if he knew. He didn’t ask questions when you told him you were leaving; simply announced he was going with. You were pulling socks over your ankles as his rushing form scurried across the room.

You guessed he’d figured it out. But the fact that he was ready to accompany you without a certain clue where you were heading makes you a little giddy.

Clearing your throat, you clarify, “No worries. It’s about that pain in my eyes. Remember?”

You wouldn’t be mad if he didn’t. Preceding your fight by perhaps a couple minutes, you don’t think the tiny statement still holds any relevance to him anymore.

Right?

Wrong.

“Yeah,” he answers, “yeah, of course. You thought it was an infection.”

“Mhm,” you hum, ignoring the butterfly wing slamming against your insides, “I’m so sure it’s an infection.” You click your tongue. “Itch first, and now it gives me migraines.”

“Yeah, you told me… But. It’s nothing serious, I just know.”

You look at his sculpted side profile.

You know him. Jungkook doesn’t actually know, of course — that’s not why he’s saying that he does.

But because hope is better than pure uncertainty; and he likes trying to manifest. He believes in little miracles like this. Knocks on wood a lot, tries not to voice potential disasters in case they might actually roll around.

So you take the reassurance. Walk to the clinic in silence. Attempt more small talk in the waiting room until they drench your corneas in those odd, blinding eye drops, dilating your pupils.

The brief, quick tests follow; the assistant is young and gentle, and you try your best to be a good patient. She seems to enjoy your temporarily formal behaviour, perfected in the years you grew to be a reputable heir.

You drop it once you’re in the waiting room again, awaiting the final consultation and results.

Jungkook is a restless companion. No matter how irritating, you’re used to the constant swaying and the movements of his legs. One might think he is anxious for you, eyes locking on the head doc’s office door every now and then.

Yet, he wonders, “Are you nervous?”

“Nervous?” you repeat, breathing out a tiny, amused laugh. “Nah. He’s really nice. And it’s just some eye stuff.”

“Well, eyes are important.”

The words come out quickly, but the last syllable dies gradually.

You smile.

Jungkook sometimes reminisces about a time when he’d hide from relatives or eat lunch at the back of class back in elementary school. He tires out the term introvertness, and you repeatedly retort with a certain ambivertness.

At times, he’s loud, flirty, annoying and confident — gives you a hard time believing that he ever averted a girl’s gaze or hid behind his cousins.

But then… there are moments when you see it.

Like now.

The puffy cheeks, the youthful pout, the big, big eyes flashing to the ground. Unsure what to say, unsure what you’re thinking of him.

Until he gulps, keeping his voice quiet and low as he continues, “Have you ever had a private optometrist?”

Huh. Not a question you expected. You guess starting the week with a discussion about wealth makes him think of such things these days.

“Yeah,” you say, shifting in your seat. You can still not see him clearly; his features are blurry, and you squint. “When I was younger. Big, bright places and top notch equipment.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I mean… It's not like usually used equipment, like here, is any worse than theirs. Also, same reason as why I went to a public college. Normalcy, I guess.”

“Odd.”

“…Why?”

“Because,” he draws a sharp breath, staring ahead. “Despite all the normalcy, you’re as extraordinary as can get. Money or not.”

A heartbeat passes. Among the sounds of the quiet chatter around you and the ads in the TV at lowest volume, your breath mingles with the hushed noises like a whisper.

His slowly blinking eyes are genuine, your reflection in his dark brown orbs clear. White dots sparkle like constellations in the sky, bright and plenty. It’s nice that they remind you of the sentimentality in his heart after every single serious or dumb, big or small fight.

For a moment, you keep looking. Your fingers twitch, urging to reach out, but as they start moving off your knee, you hear a call of your name.

Jungkook leans back, clearing his throat, smiles at you as you get to your feet and meet the doctor’s stare, kindly gesturing inside the examination room.

A couple more tests, a friendly conversation, more orders from his side before he gives you a diagnosis and a prescription. 

And when you head out, Jungkook’s still sitting right where you left him. One leg restless again, leaning forwards, arms on his thighs and hands intertwined. His head is hanging between his shoulders; even from afar, you see his lashes move, eyes slowly blinking.

You can’t quite explain it, but you love this point of view — when you can see his parted lips, the lower one pillowy, partly hidden behind his button nose. Cheeks round. You truly do love this watching-from-above-angle.

Even though it clearly suggests he’s bored out of his mind. Beyond done with this place, but still here, waiting for you.

You clutch the strap of your bag again, sighing, and then move towards him with light steps. The back of your fingers reaches out then, brushing against his temple a tiny moment before he detects your shoes and looks up.

“Oh. That was fast,” he says; his eyes are drooping. He had a long morning in the attic. “What did he say?”

He gets off the seat, moving his stiff neck and cracking it a little, hand flashing up to his shoulder. You explain, “I need eye drops. Two to three times a day.”

“Ah. Then we could get them right now.”

You nod, allowing a little smile, telling him as you head out, “My eyes are okay, though. Somehow, my vision has improved, too.”

Jungkook’s lips form an excited Oh, but when he sees your expression, he says, “But you seem bummed about it.”

Ah. Well.

You feel ungrateful thinking that way, but…

“In some way?” you admit. “I’d rather have an infection that can be fixed with antibiotics and won’t come back so easily instead of… you know. Having to constantly rely on eye drops. It just sounds so permanent.”

Another deep sigh; you’re exhausted as well. “And I’ll have to remember to use them.”

“Hmm,” he voices, holding the door open for you. He zips his jacket close as you step out; an immediate breath cloud forming when he exhales. “Set an alarm, yeah?”

“Yeah. Just knowing myself…”

“I’ll remind you then.”

The suggestion is immediate, albeit accompanied by a seemingly nonchalant shrug of his shoulder; jacket’s sleeves adorably pulled over his hands.

“Once in the morning. You set an alarm for lunch and then I remind you again when you take your birth control pill at night. Yeah?”

The bitter feeling of the fight vanishes a little; you try to ignore the residual awkwardness, apologies probably still due. But right now, your conversation follows a different path, so you settle on a soft, little, “Thank you, Kook.”

He always does that. Remind you of your meds.

Your vitamins, your pills, that one nose spray hydrating your nose flora to prevent your mucosa from drying out or whatever your ENT doc told you. He did last night, too.

He always does — even if it means forgetting about his own responsibilities.

You blink a couple times, rubbing your eyelids before you admit, “Still hurts. Can barely see… and the streetlamps are so bright?”

“Lemme look.”

He stops in his tracks and you follow; his hand catches your wrist, pulling your fingers away from your eyes, and you turn to him slowly. You’re still attempting to clear your vision, so he orders, “Stop blinking.”

And once you do, he moves in. Takes your face in his already warm hands, staring, squinting, humming. He looks focused, and you raise your eyebrows, waiting for a conclusion until he finally mutters, “Damn.”

“What?”

He seems impressed. Looks a bit longer. You repeat, “What? Are they red? Swollen or something?”

“Nah,” he lets your face go, already stepping back as if dodging your proximity. “But,” he starts; you stare like a puppy, only breaking when he adds, “they’re pretty as fuck.”

Your playful punch rises as if on instinct.

One part of your relationship that never changed was your bicker, starting with annoyance and morphing into frisky, flirty remarks. You consider it the foundation of what makes the two of you a unit.

You grit your teeth, but can’t bite back the smile.

“Dude,” you scold, and he covers his arm instinctively, evading the punch looming over him.

But you don’t deliver it after all, dropping your hand, shaking your head instead. You say, “If you hadn’t helped me survive today, I’d—”

You steer towards him, attempting another scare, and he plays along with a flinch just before he starts laughing again. Hums and nods emphasise his words when he agrees, “You survived like a true champ. A big girl, you said, right?”

“Sure am.”

“Mhm. …My big girl?”

“Gross. Shut up.”

The atmosphere will stay odd for a while. That’s okay, you guess. At least it allows for a bit of amusement, hard to hide as you smile a little, bite your lip.

You lower your head, veiling your beam behind your hair, but you know he sees. Matches your smile — perhaps even a bit brighter than your own.

FRIDAY

The fast approaching weekend usually eases a week’s tension. But considering the mounting workload you tackled today and the endless Saturday you’ll be dealing with very soon, your muscles don’t relax just yet.

Imprisoned behind the bars of work, your thoughts circle around the schedule for tomorrow. In that sense, you come home late and can’t quite bother with the stress that spread throughout the first half of the week.

Jungkook already scarfed down tonight’s dinner, comfortably laying in bed and balancing the laptop on his stomach. From the sound of it, he’s watching videos of various genres.

Sitting on the living room couch and indulging in a short story for just a bit, you hear the enthusiastic voices of chefs rattling down recipes every now and then. It’s a hobby of his, but you can’t help but feel bad.

He studies those YouTube videos to improve his cooking skills, and you, ungratefully, leave the rest of his effort in the goddamn fridge. You sigh.

If you had the energy and will to talk it out, you’d do it now. You couldn’t all day.

He was still asleep when you left, and after work, you went to a brief dinner with a coworker to dash through details for tomorrow. Looking at the plan, you hope for at least a sliver of fun amidst the photoshoot chaos.

When you returned home, Jungkook was gaming right where you’re sitting now. You showered, only to find him back in the bedroom, with his eyes glued to said laptop. And now, as you approach the bed to end the night, he walks past you with falling eyelids.

He rubs them with the back of his tattooed hand, a tired pout on his face contradicting the seemingly badass image that the ink usually gives him. Hard shell, soft core and all.

“Be right ba—,” Jungkook’s hazy voice informs, last syllable broken by a yawn. “Go to bed, okay?”

His palm moves across your upper arm as he passes you by, and you nod, steering towards the inviting, warm mattress. Its surface melts with your body when you drop. God, you’re exhausted; can barely think.

You don’t think it’ll take you particularly long to drift away; and just when your consciousness slips, you feel an arm around you.

A soft hug, enveloping you. He drops his face to yours, lips gently pressing against your cheek for a moment before he adjusts the blanket over the two of you.

A current of warmth courses through your veins, and you draw a deep, long breath of affection when he cuddles into you. He must be thinking you’re asleep but slowly falling out of dreams, because he pulls you in and rubs your arm.

An effective tactic he usually wields to help you fall asleep. 

He puts a leg gently over yours, his body so close to yours that you feel bits of the combustion of your heart.

Because…

Despite your stupid feud, you’re kind of happy that he’s joined you under the thin blanket, pressing more featherlight kisses against your scalp. Sighs against it.

And you can’t withhold the smile when he brushes over your clothed tummy and whispers, “My feisty little girl.” 

SATURDAY

You remember to unclench your jaw.

The stress hardens your muscles. Your limbs are stiff, eyes unblinking until they dry out. Fingers wrapped around your phone, you hold the device firmly, shutting out the telling vibrations of notifications.

This cannot be.

There are a hundred fires burning around you. Erupted chaos causes panic, and in the middle of it are you, clueless and vexed beyond measure.

It’s one thing cancelling a shoot a couple days before it takes place — and another thing to call sick at the very last moment. You didn’t think the model would ditch you like this… but now that he has, you can’t figure out how to replace the missing piece of the shoot.

Your troubled co-workers call out a dozen names, but you don’t say a word, gazing around with a crease between your eyebrows.

This whole thing needs to be out in the open by Friday, and the photographers and editors need time. So, postponing this to Monday and the release of the ads to another weekend won’t work, right?

No.

You’re at the headquarters of this brand. And you’re one of the organisers of this shoot and project. Every single shop will need to postpone if you do.

Unprofessional. Goes against the schedule.

The complaints are still on full blast when you see a calm movement from the corner of your eye. You move your head to the left, peeking through the glass door, and on the other side awaits—

A wide-eyed man, staring inside, observing the tumult like he’s stepped into the jungle. He’s wearing a white shirt, tucked into jeans, long bangs hanging into his eyes and enhancing the sweet gaze so wonderfully.

Pieces of your stress melts — but you still can’t figure out why he’s standing there.

You walk to the door automatically, throwing a tiny smile when he detects you among the staff. A big hand waves in tiny, and you open to let him in.

“Hey,” you greet, pushing back to where you stood before. He follows. “What are you doing here?”

As you come to a stand, he puts a hand on your waist lightly, drawing close to press a kiss to your temple. Then, he responds, “Picking you up?”

“Wh—”

Oh. Shit.

You were going to go out and celebrate the end of the stressful week. He’d suggested it last weekend because he already knew how hectic today would be.

Ughhhh.

You’re terrible.

Jungkook realises your forgetfulness the moment your expression changes into a guilty one. His curious, innocent look drops with his eyebrows, and he sighs when you say, “I’m sorry, Kook.”

When he stares down at his shoes, you feel a wave of shame; the noise around you fades for just a second as he half sullenly, half disappointedly asks, “Really?”

“I swear… It’s not my fault.”

It’s not an excuse; not a lie.

He looks disheartened; knowing him, stupid argument or not, he was probably looking forward to this. Fuck, you feel bad.

Despite his obvious drop in mood, he doesn’t say anything much. Instead, he nods and assures, “It’s fine. What happened?”

You look around again. From afar, you see a coworker approach. She looks hopeful and you take the crumbs, but you still explain, “Everything should be done by now. We got most of the pictures, but… one of the guys bailed on us.”

“Shit, really? What now?”

You shrug your shoulders, once again racking your brain for a solution. People here are counting on you, but it’s not you who brings the very first somewhat reasonable suggestion of today.

Only somewhat reasonable, though.

Because the coworker approaching ogles at Jungkook like a pirate at a treasure, pupils big and wondering as she suddenly says, “Hold. Did you come up with that?”

You blink.

Then ask, “What?”

“You called him here?”

“What?” you repeat, a confused, little parrott.

She rolls her eyes, “He,” she points at Jungkook with a thumb, “is not allowed in here. Usually. So I assumed you called him as a replacement.” She tilts her head. “And he’s freaking perfect!”

Per—

What? No, no, no. That’s absolutely nothing you planned or permitted.

“No?” Instinctively, you take a step to the side, right in front of his broad shoulders as if to protect him from harm. You argue, “He’s not a model. He’s an artist.”

From behind, you hear, “I’m just an artist.”

“Yeah, but,” she throws back, “you’re art, too. I won’t lie.”

Another step back until your back almost touches his chest. His fingertips graze your hip, as a warning before you stumble over his feet. You can imagine the subtle rosy dust on his cheek; he’s fond of compliments.

As everyone is, you suppose. But. 

“Hey, careful,” you tell her, disguising it as a joke, but feeling the lightest burn in your stomach when he laughs at her words.

She raises her pretty lips to a prettier smile, nodding in reassurance as she promises, “Yes, I know he’s taken.”

Another quiet chuckle from behind you, and you cock an eyebrow before he changes the topic and admits, “Seriously, I’m not a model at all and barely know what these things are like…”

To which she waves off his concerns and explains, “Oh, you just need to look good. We’d put some make up and clothes on you, a few pics and we’re done.”

Sounds easy enough. A bit like an insult to actual models, kind of putting those to shame who ran across stages for years to study, internalise and perfect their movements.

But you don’t correct her because you’re desperate, too. And right now, this sounds the easiest.

Still, he murmurs, “I’m not sure.”

“I understand if not,” she says. Her tone changes, fragments of frustration in it. “It’s just that we’re running out of options.”

Once more, you play out the upcoming week mentally. Postponing the last shoot. Postponing the release. Postponing the seasonal launch.

None of this is your fault, but you’d still be the one to get all the wary looks.

As if on cue, Jungkook squeezes your hip, and you look at him with worry painted across your face. You know he sees it immediately, but he still asks, “Is it that bad?”

You nibble at your lip, putting a hand over his as you say, “Yeah. We do need someone.”

“Is that allowed? Can I just replace a guy?”

“I’m technically the boss here, so you’d just need my permission,” you take a breath and then click your tongue, “I mean, usually we’d just reschedule, but we don’t have the time and those shoots already take hours. And in your case, we’d do all the paperwork, contract stuff later.”

“Would it help you?”

He’s considerate. Even in a stressful moment like this, the gentle tone, the deep care makes you weak. The answer’s already clear, but you still tell him, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Again, it… might take up to two hours or so.”

“But it’d help you, babe, wouldn’t it? Unless you don’t want me to. Then I won’t.”

You don’t have a single problem with this; in fact, you’d be happy to put him in front of a camera. His genuine thoughtfulness liquefies you — you’re a puddle at this point.

“Oh, I… Jungko—”

Juri intrudes, “I’m sorry,” carefully, she inches closer, nodding over her shoulder, “Just wanna say that we have a lot of designers in our team. They do logos and make the posters and all. Maybe, if they saw you — because the country already knows you as her artistic man from newspapers — they could teach you some digital art stuff.”

“I…” Jungkook starts. He’s probably thinking the same — which he confirms when he adds, “I’m not sure how me modelling for you might relate to artistic stuff. But I already know a lot about digital art.”

Yeah, exactly. Of course he does; what else did he wade through college for throughout these years?

“But,” she lifts a finger, infinite force in one word already, “have you ever tried expensive equipment and all?”

Oh oh. You feel bad.

Is that the group of society you represent? Maybe you guys are a little pretentious after all, dealing and seducing with money.

But he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t dare to challenge her when he steps next to you and says, “I can do it, but not for that digital art offer.” He puts a hand on your back, rubbing lightly and briefly, “For her.”

You fold your arms under your chest; less to show dominance, but more to press against the butterflies. There’s a type of nausea falling in love elicits, deep in your stomach where everything appears so surreal and beautiful that it makes you oddly sick.

The first time your pupils took on their heart shape was the first moment Jungkook practised that effect on you; made you realise what inevitable emotions he was pulling you into.

That effect has not faltered; your guts still twist.

At least, for a couple minutes.

Because the second your coworker-vultures attack him and drag him to the back room, something changes. Nervousness, you guess. You know the clothes that are awaiting him, but stepping out of makeup and into the spotlight leaves you gasping for air.

From afar, he’s leering at you.

Wearing a snow white shirt, tucked into his pants, priorly tousled hair still messy but styled in curls. Yes, you might know your collection — but you didn’t think it’d fit him like second skin.

Why did you doubt it, though? Jungkook could wear a trash bag and still compete against Adonis.

For a moment, he stands still, entangling his fingers, looking around. Then, he’s smiling in uncertainty, awkwardly putting his hands on his tiny waist, waiting for directions.

Juri tip-toes towards you, as if you’re filming a scene in a drama. She pulls the clipboard to her chest, one digit pointing to your struggling man before she says, “He’s adorable.”

You nod. “I wonder how he’ll do.”

“Well, yeah,” she murmurs, half distracted; but then she averts her eyes from him, looking from your nervous lips up to your furrowed eyebrows before she assures, “Worst case scenario, we’ll postpone. End of story. At least we tried.”

“Hmm… Well, let’s hope it won’t be that case.”

Which, you soon realise, it certainly isn’t.

A couple professional suggestions by the director and Jungkook gets into position. The initial movements of his hands and body are a little strange and awkward, and you can’t help but want to pull him from this chaos and wrap him in a fuzzy blanket.

But the seemingly feigned adorable stance soon shifts into something unexpectedly dangerous when he raises his chin. Thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, he relaxes his body, lips suddenly forming a tempting, slight pout.

He doesn’t usually look like that…

“Wow,” you whisper, faintly registering Juri’s fascinated nod from the side.

This is still a harmless pose, you think; one the director dared him to do. But you’re surprised by the sudden confidence, the way Jungkook doesn’t fumble or stutter or question anything.

Some of his softness shines through the moment the photographer gives a thumbs up, a tattooed hand cracking the fingers of the others. Doe eyes back, he leans forwards as if he could peek at the pictures like that, asking cautiously, “That okay?”

He looks different. Why does he look different?

“That was great! Perfect start. I promise the rest is just as easy,” the team encourages him, asking him to monitor the pictures they just took.

Jungkook walks to the strangers in slow steps, chest behind the tight, white top heaving once. On his way, he looks up to you instinctively, throwing the same thumbs up at you with a questioning gaze.

And you, still baffled, smile.

Watch as he converses with the people, his grin wide when he likes what he sees — an instant confidence boost, though you still see the nervousness in his stance. Where was any of it when they clicked the photos?

As if a demon possessed him for just a minute. Dual and dangerous.

Then again, he’s not very different in your daily life. A celestial soul on some days, catering to your every whim, never letting your feet touch the ground.

And a beast on others, inhaling your sounds like a starving incubus, never heaving your body off the mattress.

The duality doesn’t disappear with this very first outfit.

When some music starts playing and they tell him to move freely, filming the sequences for the ads, your eyeballs nearly fall out of your eyes. And you finally realise why he looks so different now.

Because the moment his thumb touches his lower lip, mimicking a wiping motion (much like he does after kissing you sometimes), you see the silver-plated jewellery glimmering from all the way from the set.

Lip ring.

Whose idea…

“What did you do back there?” you ask, near-panicking, your heart dropping into your panties.

Juri flinches, asking, “What?”

“Is that a lip ring? You gave him a—”

You puff out a breath; it’s immensely difficult to be mad at him like this. He’s been looking…

“Shouldn’t we have?” her tiny voice asks; her body shrinks a little.

“I mean. I just. It wasn’t planned.”

“Yeah, but look how amazing he looks.”

You’re seeing it, alright.

The subtle touches, the light tugging at his shirt. Movements just right. He looks all serious, like a beast, hotter than motherfucking hell. Transports your saliva into your windpipe with each look he sports.

Until you actually feel yourself choking and gagging once he leaves and comes back for the next shoot twenty minutes later.

Because why on Earth did they omit the shirt under the grey blazer?

You’re close to dashing to costume and makeup, confronting them to ask why they chose to toy with your sanity like this. Because… the lip ring is still there. His hair is suddenly slicked back. Fingers adorned with rings.

And he looks so goddamn good.

Maybe it’s your fault. You told them you trusted them, and that they were supposed to do as they pleased. And they are… they so are.

All of him, like a strong magnet, pulls you in, but you keep your feet firmly on your spot, cementing yourself in place. There’s something incredibly attractive about the way he presents himself — new, talented.

You’re fidgety, a sexually frustrated observer when he touches his jacket, pulling it open just a little. The inked hand is veiny; you see it from here, too. The light gesture allows glimpses of his chest.

Small, perked, brown nipples. Lines and ripples of his abs firm. Ending in his V-line, hidden behind the peeking underwear and blue, baggy jeans.

Heavy chains are already menacing when he shuts his eyelids and parts his lips. Worse when he leans forwards, hazy eyes staring into the camera as if he’s about to devour the camerawoman.

Jeon Jungkook is a hazardous danger to society. The world will want him — and he’ll only want you.

Fuck.

You’re drooling. Drowning in your own puddle. Crossing your legs.

And when they tell him to sit, ordering to open the button of his jeans and push it down his hips just a bit, the little yous in your brain wreak havoc.

A fire starts in the organised office of your mind, red sirens blaring, and you look at Juri as you ask, “Why is he naked?! Why’s the blazer off his shoulder?!!”

“Because,” she defends, hiding behind the clipboard; it’s not her fault. That’s what the other model would’ve done, too. “Underwear ads!”

You’re aware. You just didn’t think it’d be Jungkook ending up in this position. Perhaps you didn’t think it through; didn’t know what it’d do to you.

But his effect pools in your lower stomach; so intense, you might cry.

“What the fuck,” you mumble when he takes the jacket off, sitting up and improvising all of a sudden. A hand covers his mouth, the blazer thrown over his shoulder. “What’s the point of holding it? He’s not even wearing it.”

“Because,” she starts again, “we’re focusing on the underwear.” Where’s the focus on the underwear? You can barely see it. Are people plotting against you? “It’s okay.” She pats your shoulder. “No one’s gonna touch him, love.”

You bite your lip. You know.

You aren’t distressed because you’re mad. But because knowing that everybody will crave him and nobody will get him turns you on more.

The fact that you’re the only one he’ll look at with those starry eyes; with the hunger in his gaze. The only one he’ll press into your bed, lips close to your ears, whispering endearments and filthy, little promises.

This man wants you, and you can barely handle that truth.

New thoughts and ideas form in your mind, too wild and desperate to be occurring right in this moment. So you mentally whoosh them away, holding on for the rest of the neverending shoot until a round of genuine applause sounds around the big set.

God. Okay. Hours of torture later, and he’s done.

A shy bow. No. This monster might convince anyone else, but you know he’s not as innocent as he gives himself.

He jogs over to you, says quietly enough for only you to hear, “Don’t tell them, but that was great.” You can imagine. He backs away, looks down to his defined abs, “I need to change. And then we can head home, they said.”

You blink, perplexed and still out of words. Which he struggles to interpret, looking over his shoulder and then back to you. Unsure, he adds, “Unless you need to wrap things up.”

When a random shout echoes through the room, you awake, inhaling deeply before you tell him, “No, I. I mean, yeah, we’ll wrap things up, but that shouldn’t take too long. Should be mostly done when you are.”

He nods. Waves, and then steers towards the others, shaking hands and exchanging smiles. Short convos. Then, to the back room. 

You’re too out of your mind and tired to chat much with staff. You go through the next steps, talk about waiting for the editor to be done with the photos, list the leftover things on your to-do list before the winter launch.

And that’s it. You meet Jungkook at the exit to the hallway, relieved when the end of the day approaches. On your way back home, you converse lightly, though he stops when you yawn one too many times.

He lets you rest as you pass shops and traffic lights, and holds your hand when you get off the vehicle. Drags you up the stairs; the climb is arduous. And then allows you to get ready for your slumber in peace.

The second the back of your head collides with the cold pillow, your eyes drop shut. The world spins behind your tired eyelids, adjusting to the darkness and the silence.

A sigh of relief pushes out of your mouth; a profound sense of tranquillity calms your lit nerves. Jungkook, next to you, seems just as exhausted because the yawn as soon as he slips under the covers is long and tear-inducing.

He’s blinking away the dampness of fatigue when you look over to him; you haven’t talked much since you arrived home, but Jungkook uses the moment to say, “I had a lot more fun than I expected to have.”

You’re so incredibly thankful for his last-minute rescue. But you can’t help but think of the muscles and expressions an hour prior. The seductive gaze, the lip accessory, the ring-clad fingers.

Perhaps it’s because of the time of the month, but you feel vexed by how affected you feel.

You control your tone, though the word still sounds monotone when you say, “Good.”

Catching upon it immediately, he shifts slowly, sniffling and head propping up on his hand before he asks, “Did you not like it?”

“Oh no, I mean,” you start, “you were amazing. I just didn’t know they’d send you out naked for the world to see. Thought the plan was to close a couple buttons.”

“The stylists told me. I think it was a spontaneous change because—”

You glance at him when he hesitates. A sly smile spreads across his features, just a little guilty yet amused as he watches your curiosity grow.

“What?” you ask.

“Nevermind.”

“Don’t be mean.”

“It’s nothing!” he exclaims. “We just thought it’d look cool. I thought you’d like it, too, actually.”

You did. That’s the issue. You liked it enough for it to burn into your mind, and now you can’t shake the image anymore.

No matter how many times you’ve seen him butt naked, buried inside you without a gap between your skin — something about his confidence and eyes stirred an unknown level of desire in you.

But you can’t tell him. Because the thing you want won’t be possible right now. You keep your thoughts veiled.

Instead, you unleash your annoyance because God, you hate him for being so hot.

“Right,” is all you say.

“Hey, don’t worry. Even if they ask, I’m not doing this again.”

“Might make you famous, though,” you mumble.

He snorts, fingers sneaking to your tummy, “So what? That’s not my profession. I didn’t study to become a model. Will work on my actual efforts.”

“Okay.”

The single word forces a sigh out of him, and he shakes his head, tapping his fingers against your stomach as he whispers your name thrice. Like he’s scolding you.

And then, “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you spit without hesitation, “of whom?”

You’re not. And you know that just for the moment, he won’t believe you. Which is fine. You’ll tell him the truth once your period’s over for the month.

“Of people who might see me and like what they see.”

Okay. Jerk.

At this point, he is doing it on purpose. You see it in the cocky smile and the jesting tone and the way his fingertips draw circles over your shirt, itching to sneak underneath the fabric.

You know him.

He’s so annoying.

“No,” you repeat.

“You sure? Huh?” Fuck, not that sulky voice. You close your eyes, but he raises your chin, making your head move. “Look at me, angel.”

“Hmm?”

“You said no, but you do look a little fiery,” he tells you. Yeah, if he knew that the real reason doesn’t lie in envy or whatever the world thinks of him. “What? My girl is jealous of people I won’t even perceive?”

No.

But she does feel the tickling, flattering lust pooling in her lower stomach, Jeon, thank you very much.

“Jungkook,” you start, although breathier when he moves closer, towards your neck. “Don’t be annoying.”

Which triggers a slightly mocking tone; he tuts before he says, “Baby bails on our date today. Will fight me in a restaurant. And then I’m annoying?”

Your answer is immediate and as shameless as can be.

“Yes.”

And it makes him laugh. Hot and sudden against your skin, his breath makes you shiver more than the relentless cold outside ever could.

“Not gonna lie,” he begins, “that brat behaviour isn’t too terrible.”

“Shut the fuck up, you just—”

He just what? You don’t know. Your sentence floats between you when his nose raises your chin, freeing the path to your neck before he’s nuzzling it slowly.

You feel goosebumps at the back of your neck, hair standing up, tingles across your body where you didn’t deem them possible. Under the blanket, your legs shift, and he hurries to move one of his between yours.

Hand still on your shirt, he places a barely-there, soft kiss to your neck; his fine tresses tickle your face and you crumble.

You have long forgotten your unfinished sentence, but he hasn’t. Asks, “What?”

You bury your nails into his arm, intrigued by the little hiss followed by a subtle laugh. Growing in volume when you say, “I kinda hate you right now.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, stretching the second word, “I hate you, too. Absolutely loathe you.”

You silence. Hold onto him when he French kisses between your neck and shoulder. And then breathe, “Then go away.”

“Mhh. Maybe I should.”

“Maybe…”

And then, out of the blue, his teeth dig into your neck like a gentle vampire, stopping immediately when you wince desperately. A hot tongue soothes the bite, a strong hand pushing you down by your shoulder again when your body lifts off the bed just a bit.

He keeps you in place, moving to your jaw. And when you whimper in lust and want, navigating his leg closer to your core, he curses, “Fucking hell, babe.”

Then, he’s inhaling, fingers wandering from your shoulder to your wrist as lips finally clash.

His body moves half onto yours, slowly gauging your reaction to the kiss as if he’s still expecting the burst of cumulated emotions. But when you give into his gesture, granting him your tongue, his face moves further against yours.

Undecided fingers let your wrist go, getting ahold of a patch of your hair. You hold his arms again until you wrap yours around him, fingers on the nape of his neck as you pull him in.

You tilt your heads in unison, deepening the kiss, drinking him up. Let him open your lips with his, keeping them like that, tips of your tongues playing with each other.

His touch drops to your waist and down to your pyjamas, pushing them down a little, grazing your panties. But then, his teasing palm floats up again and settles over one of your tits, squeezing once and drawing a telling moan out of you.

No bra.

He loves your little habits. You live through them casually, never noticing how badly they empty his mind.

Seems your head is blanking just as much at his touches; because you look delirious, lost, breathing in and out heavily. Jungkook basks in the expression, pushing a hand to your neck.

And only when he presses in gently, trapping you in place, do you seem to wake.

Eyes shoot open, and you inhale deeply, as if saved from drowning; remember every bit of today. The lines of his abs. The lip ring. The jewellery on his fingers.

You could ask for him to go on, to wreck you thoroughly. But of all arguments stopping you from doing so, there’s one damn reason that asks to prevent the mess.

Fucking period. Would create a literal bloody chaos. And you’re exhausted.

The thing is — if you asked him, you know he’d give it to you.

He’s reckless and careless. But you can’t risk the state of your sheets and the state of your mind. You have more work to do tomorrow; also, if you continued now, you’d be tired and immobile tomorrow, you know — and you need to be awake for this.

Fully in your senses.

Ugh. Fuck.

And the last damn day of the red waterfall, too. Thinking about it, perhaps that’s the reason for your agitation this week.

In hindsight, you know you’re never bitchy like that — he didn’t give you the nickname of an angel for nothing, right? Fuck PMS. Fuck mood swings.

Your poor boy, enduring the wrath of it.

But maybe you need to act pissed just a bit longer because—

“What?” he asks.

It’s not the time. So you stop him, pushing him away lightly. Shake your head, calling forth a crease between your eyebrows, turning away just a bit.

He falls back, once again keeping his upper body up by his arm. Inquires, “I— are you still mad?”

Truthfully, you answer flatly, “I’m on my period.”

“So?” he answers, laughing until he sees your lips, pressed into a serious line. “I’m not scared of some blood.”

You knew it. He’d give in if you told him to.

But what you want can’t be received during this time of the month. What you want requires unhinged chaos, carelessness, breathlessness. Craze of many minutes, hours.

You want more than a short, cautious session that asks you to peek at the sheets and the towel you’d get every now and then. You want to fucking lose yourself in hi—

“Let’s not,” you answer, your tone nonchalant, “Just. Let’s go to sleep, alright?”

He murmurs your name, trying again; but when you turn on your belly, giving a last sign to end the night, you hear him groan quietly.

You grimace when his head falls onto the pillow with an angry thump, movements under the blanket agitated as he scolds, “My God. Alright. You wanna be pissed for an entire week, then be pissed. I can’t do more than that.”

Oof.

If he only knew. And something in you tells you that he will very soon.

SUNDAY

Too lazy to work through the preparation process in the kitchen, Jungkook and you quietly decide to spend lunch outside.

The café nearby is a place you’ve wanted to visit for quite some time now. And despite the flaky, dry sandwiches they served, you’re glad time passed quickly, the awkward conversations between you coming to an end.

When you return from the bathroom, the sky above looks grey. Desolate. The weather forecast predicted a surprisingly pleasant late fall day, but the approaching rain is obvious. Which, you anticipated more than the weather forecast did, really.

That’s why an umbrella is leaning against the leg of the table, and you grab it as you watch Jungkook fumble with his wallet, stuffing it into his back pocket.

He gulps down the last sip of his Matcha Latte, dimples above the corner of his lips as he smacks the taste away. Then, he gets to his feet, asks, “Ready to go?”

Absent-mindedly, you nod, glancing to the sky and then back to him again. He looks sweet and domestic; but you can’t quite take him seriously. Not necessarily because of the fight anymore.

It’s been far too many days to still dwell.

But because of the damn lip ring, the open jacket, the gelled back hair. His destructive expressions. Like he could devour you whole.

Jungkook doesn’t stay angry for a long time, you’ve noticed. He always tells you how his temper used to be worse as a teenager, but how he’s learned to control himself.

Agonies of childhood, relationships and friendships taught him patience. And you notice. You truly notice.

Because he hands you your purse sweetly, immediately stretching his palm towards you. A slight smile spreads across his face, and you respond with a weak one of yours. Take his hand and let him lead you home.

You’ll walk the short distance; it shouldn’t take longer than seven or eight minutes.

And as you approach home, the hand holding yours mimics the motions of the one gripping the umbrella — he brings both arms into swing, somewhat euphoric but casual when he says, “The food was so dry there.”

It’s odd, talking to him like that after several days again. But you nod slowly, and agree, “I know. But at least we know where not to go anymore.”

“Yeah. But I mean, great beverages.”

“The milkshake, too.”

He tugs you a little closer, elbows soon touching, “I still think you should’ve gotten something warmer. You get a cold fast,” he looks up with squinted eyes, “and it’s already chilly today.”

You squeeze his hand as a thank you; Jungkook cares for you in little, subtle ways, and you’d lie if you said you didn’t think of it every now and then. You answer, “I feel fine, though.”

“Okay. Hope that stays.”

His palm, soft in yours, shifts until he’s intertwining his fingers with yours, attempting a stronger grip. You lift your eyes from the ground to his face for a second, meeting a gentle smile, and feel more pieces of your heart split.

They wander through your body, along your arm and straight into his chest, merging with his own organ. If you could, you’d push him against one of the unlit lamp posts, parted lips opting for his, breathing into his mouth.

He infested your thoughts and stuck with you, no way to escape the moment you first fell for him. And somehow, he managed to keep this effect intact, digging deeper into your mind and making himself home every damn second of the day.

The desire you’ve been feeling doesn’t just stem from lip rings and talent behind the camera. But you also keep realising that you’re truly this man’s, and that this man is truly yours.

A hard truth to fathom when you’re the subject of interest to one unique Jeon Jungkook.

But you want all of him. Want him over you, around you, taking all of what no other guy will ever be allowed to touch. Want him to show you once again where you belong and that you’re in this for as long as his affection is aligned with yours.

Fuck. Home is too far away.

So you look away from him. Which he interprets in an entirely wrong way.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks, an inquiry out of nowhere that has your eyebrows kissing.

“No,” you answer.

“You barely talk to me. And,” he halts to wipe away a raindrop. Guess the clouds are gathering. “And I miss you.”

Your ribs might break. He keeps doing this to you.

“I’m not mad, Kook. Was just PMS-ing before,” you try again, adding a nickname for good measure.

“You sure?”

Jungkook is a free-spirited soul, careless to a healthy degree most of the time. There are only a few things that break his composure; familial insecurities, shitty pasts — and then there’s you.

Topping his list of priorities, you’re the only aspect in his current life that pushes him into spirals of overthinking.

And right now, he’s in the middle one, requiring a thousand reassurances. You want to answer. You really do.

But the distraction from above proves too strong the second you open your mouth. In the middle of your walk, the clouds explode, roaring for a moment before a downpour suddenly showers onto you.

The raindrops are thick, the bursting clouds aggressive.

Instinctively, Jungkook opens the umbrella, hastily working on it, and once under it, your steps pick up on pace. You wrap an arm around your body, closing the jacket, hooking your other arm with his and pushing the two of you forward.

“Shit,” you say; you look up, but can barely see anything. Only hear the thunder.

The wind grows colder, grazing the skin of your face incessantly. Despite the umbrella, the merciless rain wets your cheeks, singular drops flying towards you. Jungkook’s hair covers his face, and he shakes them off his eyes.

You gasp when a literal newspaper flies past you.

“Come on,” you encourage, already shivering. “We can talk about it at home, okay?”

But surprisingly, incredibly lost in his own head, he doesn’t give in. He adjusts to your pace, holding the umbrella in a strong grip, sighs and argues, “We can talk about it anytime.”

“Not now.”

“But—”

“Kook, right now’s not the time for this.”

Holy shit.

This man is a phenomenon. And you wish he wasn’t serious, but you know that he is. A full-on simp-y fool, no matter what.

“You’ve avoided me all week,” he yells over the sounds of the rain, sniffling, looking at the storm ahead, “we won’t die. It’s just rain.”

“It’s a thunderstorm, you idiot!” you exclaim back, moving straight forward and past running passengers. You should be home soon. “And in a minute we won’t be able to see shit.”

Jungkook must be made of cement. Broad shoulders, a well-trained body and willpower seem to combat the storm when he suddenly halts in his steps.

Immediately, you grab the umbrella, keeping it from nearly flying away; and when you remain the only presence under it, you ogle back. Watch him stand there in his red-white jacket, getting soaked by Mother Nature.

What the fuck.

You rush back, grabbing his wrist, pulling him forward as much as you can as you reprimand, “What the hell are you doing? Come on.”

“You’ll talk to me if I do?”

“Jungkook, we’ll die here, I—”

You flinch and gasp when another strong wind blows, once and for all ripping the umbrella off your hand and making it fly a couple feet from you. You watch it break through the fog of rain, mouth wide open with a dozen curses on your tongue.

“Fuck,” you exclaim, gritting your teeth, “I will. Just please, okay?!”

He’s so annoying. The way he looks at you, breathing hard, white shirt drenched and sticking to his body. You tug at his arm, forcing him to run when you do.

It takes you two entire minutes, wordless as you wish them to be, to reach his street and apartment. You tremble in the hallways, rushing up the stairs, and eventually take a seconds-long breath when you step into the flat.

It’s cold. So cold — and you had your jacket protecting your shirt. Your jeans and hair are soaked, your socks a sponge, soaked in a couple millilitres of water.

But it’s relieving when you take the jacket and your jeans off, pulling out the oversized, wrinkled shirt from under your pants, covering half your thighs. Jungkook slips out of his boots and rushes for a towel, approaching your heaving form at the door to dry your hair.

You quiver for a couple more minutes, fearing an approaching cold after all. But once settled on the couch, indulging in the comfort of thick joggers and a fresh cotton shirt, you sigh.

The silence still holding on only breaks when you drop your head back on the couch. A warm hand sneaks to your cheek, and when you open your eyes, he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Warming up…” You lean into the touch, though still irritated by his behaviour before. “Thought it’d rain, but that was a surprise.”

“Yeah.” A pause. And then, “Was a little romantic, too.”

Unbelievable.

You roll your eyes at him, head tilting, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. Perhaps he’s joking. The goofy smile suggests that he is.

“Was it, yeah? You just—”

You click your tongue. Think back to him nearly offering his soul to Zeus just a couple minutes ago. Standing in the heavy rain as if he was the lead character in The Notebook.

“Don’t be mad now. I’m kidding,” he says. His voice isn’t as soft anymore; frustrated when he tries again, “Talk to me. What’s the problem?”

“Seriously? I told you there’s nothing.”

“Nah, cut that bullshit. You haven’t talked to me or properly touched me all week. I’m trying my fucking best.”

“I know. This isn’t what it’s about,” you defend, shaking your head, getting to your feet, “but about that insane little stunt out there.”

And the fact that he’s been driving you crazy. The week’s distress mixed with whatever he made you feel yesterday; today’s insanity further adding to it.

When he doesn’t speak, you sigh, waving it off, and opt to walk away. But all in vain.

You make it two steps away from the couch before he flashes up, too; filmesque, you gasp at the strong grip around your elbow, getting a tiny second to process the situation before he’s twirled you around.

He probably didn’t intend it, but you nearly clash against him, stupidly losing your balance and stumbling over his and your own feet. You put a hand to your temples, fearing the worst — what if you fall and clash against the corner of your glass table?

But no. In slow motion, he keeps you in his firm hold, preventing the fall, but still letting you gently drop onto the fluffy, white carpet. Your investment. You’re happy about it now because it caught you the way the wooden floor wouldn’t.

Your movements towards the grounds are slow — or at least that’s what they feel like. But when he appears above you, pinning your wrists to the carpet hard, he’s breathless; and you think that maybe the fall didn’t happen as slowly after all.

“Okay,” he says through gritted teeth. From down here, his jaw looks as sharp as a ship’s deck, the Adam’s apple bobbing when he challenges, “You’re gonna fucking tell me what’s going on.”

Oh. He’s mad.

His eyes are burning, jaw flexed. Defined chest rising in anger.

There’s nothing going on. At least nothing that warrants another fight.

But you don’t tell him that just yet. Instead, all your perplexed mind and tongue manage is, “What?”

“I forgave you. We were both shitty that day, you know? But I still did forgive you, and you’re still being like that.” His knuckles must be paling, because his grip is iron hard. “Why?”

“I—”

“I’ll apologise if that’s what you want. I did, actually. I’m sorry, okay? There. But this is just,” fingers squeeze your wrists, and you hiss, “ridiculous.”

Your following grimace, lips twitching, eyes squinting, go through to him immediately. The hold doesn’t hurt or bother you too much, but the leg between your knees does. Jungkook wouldn’t wound you; he knows his limits.

But perhaps he thinks he’s going overboard when he loosens his fingers, pressing his palms against your skin, rubbing to soothe the missing pain.

He doesn’t quite move away, though, still stubborn when you assure once again, “I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“So you keep saying.”

“I’m not,” you tell him, heart racing at the proximity. You close your legs around his knee, irritated by the barrier. “I promise.”

He doesn’t give your gesture much attention just yet; doesn’t know that his body over yours is exactly what you’ve been craving. But he does understand the sincerity in your voice. Finally.

When he moves closer, pupils melting to fluid gems, you let out an intentional, teeny tiny moan that you’re sure he confuses for a relieved sigh. He moves his palms onto the carpet, caging you in; you keep your wrists where they are, but dig your nails into your skin.

You want to kiss him so badly. You miss him so much.

“Then tell me what’s wrong, angel,” he demands again, quieter and softer this time.

“I don’t know.”

With the fury evaporating bit by bit, his eyes look bigger and rounder again. The desperation of the week gathers in them and his expression, shooting all the way down to his tongue; and when he whispers to you next, your heart collapses, “Please?”

He’s sweet… so utterly oblivious to your true thoughts.

But you couldn’t feel more embarrassed about the pictures you’ve been painting and the words ghosting in that mind of yours. He’d do all of it, no questions asked. But… fuck.

“This is so dumb,” you answer, fingertips dragging down the carpet and then up to his waist, “like… you’ll laugh.”

The touch encourages him. His arms are shaking now, holding him up in this position for too long, and the wandering fingers along his sides and chest must weaken him like his lines affect you.

“That’s a good thing,” he answers, closer than ever when he balances his weight on his arms now, forearms touching the carpet. “I’d rather laugh than fight.”

But the closeness remains for mere seconds before he pulls back again, sitting up with a groan. Hands on his thighs, he lets himself fall on bended knees. He watches your still helpless body on the floor until you work on getting off the carpet, letting him pull you up when he offers a hand.

You ruffle through your hair, legs folding. Your pout is more directed towards yourself than anyone else; you totally realise you didn’t need to confuse him the way you did. Stupid period.

“Listen, I just…” you start, scraping your scalp.

His knees bump against your legs when he drifts closer; there’s something about the two of you sitting on your living room carpet like this.

“It’s just that I want to be able to walk tomorrow.”

And that’s it. That’s literally it.

He halts. His hand was moving up, probably to touch your face, your hair, anything soft to ease the mood. But he cancels the tender gesture, fingers falling back to his knee when he absorbs your words.

Silences with cocked eyebrows. Processes the way you lick your lips and look away, tugging at his wide shirt. And then, once he’s understood, he tsks. Chuckles.

And you, immediately on guard, push lightly against his shoulder, unsurprised when he doesn’t buckle, and defend, “Told you you’d laugh!”

“No, but,” he says, sweet crinkles around his eyes, head tilting and bunny teeth giving way to the prettiest smile in existence, “what are you talking about, hm?”

He knows. If only his feigned innocence was as sweet as his grin, too.

Still, you opt to clarify, “That thing you did yesterday.”

“What thing?”

Ugh.

“The whole modelling thing!” you exclaim, raising your hands. His beam reaches up to his eyes; his occasional giggles are killing you. “Stop. Do you have any clue what you looked like?”

He has the audacity to shrug. “They let me see the pics on their cameras. They’ll come out well.”

“Well? Dude, you looked…”

“What?”

“Dangerous. Like you could eat me up.”

Eat me up might be accurate. It’s the description floating through your little mind since yesterday.

“Ah,” he says, nodding smugly. You know he’s about to tease you. Because— “You specifically, yeah? I was just doing what they told me to.”

“What, is me specifically wrong? Anyone else you’d wanna eat up or—”

“You’re really fixating on that, huh?” Jungkook snickers. His tongue pokes the inside of his right cheek in a brief pause, and then he adds, “You’ve got a point. Didn’t think it’d affect you, though.”

Slowly, but surely, he seems to grasp his own power over you. You think he’s reminiscing about yesterday’s chaos and confidence; maybe even viewing it all from your point of view.

Because his smirk, albeit subtle, is sly when he asks, “What was it like?”

“I…” You click your tongue. “You’ll take me apart if I tell you.”

“Why so?”

“Because.” A beat of silence. You swallow to wet your throat. Then. “I’d ask you to.”

“Ah…” Another understanding nod, as though you’re lecturing him on NASA’s rocket science and he’s finally grasping its meaning. “Yeah?”

“I saw you from afar,” you point into a direction arbitrarily, as if he’s still several feet from you and not mere inches, “and I wanted to,” you inhale when a finger reaches out, straight to a vein in your neck, gentle, exploring, “let you do anything with me that you wanted to.”

“Ohh.” His palm covers your neck, as if he’s coddling you. But you know what that touch will morph into, so you sneak closer to him, lean forwards. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“…Right.”

His thumb moves up and rubs under your jaw, then up your face and to your lower lip. The touch is soft and careful, as though gauging your reaction and searching for permission.

Your shaky, little exhale is nearly unnoticeable, but you know he catches it, and you know he already sees the consent in your eyes. But he still doesn’t lean in. Moves his eyes across your face, to his hand, to your neck and then all the way back to your gaze.

And then, contrasting the loving movements and affectionate gesture, he smiles. Mischief spreads in his stare, and his fingers retreat to the back of your neck, pulling you closer by a miniscule inch.

“So that’s what it was all this time? You’re on your knees for me, is that it?”

“Babe…” You look down, daring a joke. “Quite literally.”

You shuffle in your spot when he laughs quietly, hooking your fingers into the neckline of his shirt. You emphasise, “I mean it. Just… If you must know? I would’ve been okay with handing you all the control, okay? All of it.”

You’re aware you’re acting as though he doesn’t wreck your shit every other time, too. In fact, that’s probably how the two of you started out.

His absolute craze at the frat party, drunk. College nights when you’d confront him about your bullshit — weak excuses to make him press you against his dorm walls. A hand clapped over your mouth, your ass out, dick buried inside until you felt him in your guts—

You’ve always been at his mercy — but you want him to split you in half this time.

“You would’ve?” he repeats. “And now? Still want that?”

You look down again. There’s no shyness in that movement, no averting his beastly eyes — your focus lies elsewhere because you have a theory. Which proves true.

The swelling under his joggers, right there between his legs wasn’t there before.

So you gather your voice, and say, “…Yes.”

“Hmm. Why didn’t you tell me?” His fingernails dig lightly into your skin, and right in the middle of the tension, he pouts for a little moment. “I genuinely thought you were still pissed.”

“I was on my period…” You shrug your shoulders. “It was also late. I was so tired, and—”

He waits.

“I knew that you’d do it if I asked for it.”

“I would’ve.” What’s worse? The confirmation or the tickling breath against your cheek? When did he get so close? “I still would. If you want me to.”

“I just said yes,” you tug at the shirt, eliciting an amused grin as the tips of your noses collide, “you’ll keep asking and,” your heart beats at a million miles a minute, “just not kiss me, is that it?”

Your provocation proves effective just the right amount.

Because he opens his mouth, seemingly snarling — you can’t tell for sure, since his lips clash against yours within half a moment. Determined as his hand immediately flashes to the small of your back, supporting you before you fall backwards on the carpet.

And then he kisses you like a man starved. Like he’s run out of saliva, dehydrated. Seeks your tongue, tastes like earthy Matcha Latte and something you can’t quite define — something that’s so uniquely him.

Your kiss muffles his tiny sound, a mixture of a sigh and a moan, body impatient as he tries to push closer to you, though separated by your clashing knees. You understand — you, too, would let him smother you under his weight if you could.

So you pull your folded legs apart, shifting until they surround him and attempting to straddle him. But he’s plotting something else: his fingers hold your jaw, keeping you in place, and the hot, wet kiss breaks when he pulls away.

You catch a brief glimpse of glistening lips before he moves to trail down your body, leaning in to teeth at your shirt, pushing it off your shoulder and kissing your skin for a fleeting second. And when the shirt shifts back into position, his other hand works on your tits.

Grabs your shirt at its hem, lifting it over your mounds until they’re free, nipples perked, home to him. In a haze, the tip of his tongue touches the right nub, and you shiver.

More so when he whispers, “Am so hard for you, I’ll fucking combust.”

For you.

You’ll repent for how badly you want him in your mouth.

You caress his thigh, sneaking up until you reach the swelling under the fabric. You feel it immediately, firm as a rock, big and fat, so sensitive that he hisses once you touch it.

“No,” he commands, the word barely a breath, “no, no. Don’t or I’ll come like this.”

He says it against your neck. Warm and tickling. You feel goosebumps arise, your reactions slow, but your heart fast. His fingers engulf your wrist, leading your palm to his cheek; you feel the smileless dimple under your thumb when he darts out his tongue to wet his lips.

Then, you close your eyes; the pecks against your neck are exhilarating. The moving touch, down to your tits and then back up to your jaw is one of his favourite games; you move your hips against the carpet, soaked panties sticking against your pussy.

“You’re…” you start, fingers in his fluffy hair as he bites your nipple. You moan, your words shaky, “You’re— more into this today.”

“I mean… after everything you just said to me?” He chuckles, moving up, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His mouth brushes yours.

“And I missed her.” Free hand between your thighs, he taps just over your clit; your lips part. “Too crude to say I can’t wait for her to swallow my cock?”

Well. Fuck.

If it wasn’t him, you’d cringe. But it is him, and the truth is that you’re dying for him to press himself onto you. To wrap himself around you, to wrap yourself around him.

You want him to cut you in half, want to be his little toy until you can barely stand.

“Maybe,” you tell him, “but I promise that she wants it, too.”

That’s it, that’s it.

It’s when teeth meet again, the kiss messy, your arms around his neck. He holds you by your waist, pulling you off the floor a little, readjusting his position, so you can climb onto him.

You tilt your head as far as you can, taking him in, drooling, lips and tongue moving wildly to taste all of him. His digits wander from your back to your ass, pushing between your cheeks and pressing against your clenching hole.

The gesture is short lived, but enough for you to rub against him. The urge to rip your panties and part your folds over his girth is profuse; to dampen his length and empty his balls just like this.

But he clenches his jaw, groaning. Halts your movement with a strong grip before pulling at your hair without breaking the kiss. You move your fingers up and down his arm, and then dash it upwards to bury them in his locks, too.

Only, instead of reaching his mane, your hand hits the glass table on your left; you grunt into the kiss and then move away to exclaim, “Ah, fuck.”

Jungkook must’ve heard the sound because he catches on right away, laughing. Gently, he pushes you off his lap, gets back on his knees and then up. He pulls you with him as he says, “Alright. Get on the couch before you hurt yourself.”

“Couch?”

You’re surprised; not the bed this time, is it?

Then again — Jungkook isn’t necessarily picky when it comes to this; cue flashback to bathroom adventures.

So you still listen. Wobbly legs drag you to the sofa, plumping onto it as you watch him follow. The bulge is huge, hotter than hellfire when he palms it and lets go again.

“Too damn lazy to get to the bedroom,” he declares before dropping back on his knees.

You thought he’d climb over you, push you back across the length of the couch. But instead, he seems satisfied with your helpless position, pushing back the carpet and table some to take a seat right in front of you.

You admire his patience — the outline of his cock presses against its confines. Does it not hurt? His expression doesn’t reveal any discomfort as he adjusts against the hard floor; the carpet barely provides any relief.

But the discomfort doesn’t redirect his focus, his touch heading towards you, urging you to remove your joggers at turtle’s pace. He throws them over his shoulder and onto the table, one leg of them dangling off of it.

Left in your panties, you watch his hands curl under your knees, freeing his way to where you want to ache. Lifts your legs, places them on his shoulders carefully, amused and delighted when your bent limbs drag him closer to your cunt.

His tenacious tongue peeks between his teeth, and he fondles your thighs before he reaches the hem of your panties. They bug him — separate your heat from his mouth; in this moment, a crime to him.

“Help me here real quick,” he whispers, and you raise your ass, letting him drag the underwear off of you.

It sticks to your pussy for a second, obscenely flooded with your gradually building arousal. You think he sees, because he halts for a second, eyes flitting up to you before he says, “I think this’ll be fun.”

“You promise?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

Well…

You shrug your shoulders, but smile tellingly, eliciting a smirk that decorates his gorgeous face, closing in bit by bit. The cool air evaporates the nearer he draws, replaced by his hot breath.

And then… just to test…

He darts out his tongue, the sharp tip of it tickling your clit. Your reaction, much desired, stirs a new type of appetite in him. Because your chin trembles just once, just for a moment. Lashes flutter, and his heart skips a beat.

As he inhales, but never exhales, you question, “What?”

“Nothing,” he assures, blowing against your sex, “just. So very pretty.”

You look down at him. His shoulders look broader from here. Muscular, hair dark and silky. His lips are colourful, handsome, nose ready to bury in your pelvis. If he thinks you’re pretty, then he’s the definition of true aesthetic.

Slowly, you reach for his hair, brushing through it before you bring his head closer to you, hinting at the obvious, and say, “And you.”

“Not like you, though…”

He waits, allowing the both of you a moment of preparation.

And then… he’s kissing your pussy. Lightly at first, up and down, a hand on your inner thigh that moves closer and closer to your folds.

He sighs once before a digit parts your nether lips sticking together, and then licks a stripe between them. You whine quietly; his eyes close. He’s beautiful like this; in a minute, he’ll look at you again, mouth swollen, and you’ll wish for his touch to last and last and last…

“Please,” you only whisper, but he doesn’t answer.

Instead, his sweet kisses turn into something more. Way more wetness, way more tongue. And before you know it, he’s splitting your legs wider, pushing in to start devouring you.

Your moans are intoxicating. They’re sudden, but not surprising, voiced against the ceiling when your head falls back. The heels of your feet dig into his back, pushing him closer when his knees are already touching the couch.

The movements of his mouth are warm, a waterfall. He eats you out until he’s slurping, drenching you further. He’ll slide in effortlessly, you already know. Will bury every single inch of himself inside you, fill you up for the rest of the day.

And your high — it builds up embarrassingly fast. Perhaps because it’s been a while; or maybe because it’s Jeon Jungkook you’re dealing with. Either way, your lower stomach aches, the knot pressing against your guts.

“Kookie,” you murmur, yet again left without an answer.

He knows not to break his focus this time; knows that you’re close, recognises it in your grip around the patch of his hair. Hears it in your desperate whimpers, louder by the second. Words more unintelligible now.

Your thigh is twitching every now and then, quivering, and he takes it as a sign to keep sucking and swirling. Then flicks his wet muscle over your engorged clit, adding to your exclaims when his nimble fingers glide into you swiftly.

Too swiftly. Two of them are barely enough; and he adds a third. Your cheeks heat up, body sliding down — partly because you’re dying inside, partly because he’s pulling you towards him.

Jungkook knows how to navigate your body, how to direct you towards a rationality-breaking explosion. And he does. He does with the plethora of lustful licks, softly circling around your clit. His nose presses against it every time he shifts downwards, tasting you thoroughly.

“I’m almost—” you voice, and he hums, vibrations torture.

It’s a game to him that he’s skilled at; he understands his moves, and he never loses. Neither today as he clamps his hand onto your waist, fingers pumping in and out of you, curling and digging, massaging your favourite spot.

They turn and twist, two fingers of his free hand settling around your clit and raising it for better access.

It takes probably half a minute longer… and then… then…

Your voice grows in pitch, nearly illegal for a Sunday afternoon, but music to his ears. So genuine and sweet. Corners of your eyes glistening. He holds your legs apart as you start begging, but all he truly makes out is the eager repetition of his name.

He wishes your shirt didn’t cover your upper body; wishes he could see the heaving of your chest, the perked nipples, the sweat on your clavicles.

But for now, this is enough.

The way he sees waves of pleasure wash over you, eyes rolled back, not looking at him anymore. Your lips are dry, your tongue probably, too, and he wants to kiss it wet again.

You moan and wince and keen, body restless. The tug of his hair becomes more prominent and palpable, but the sensation makes him smile. You’re probably barely noticing, too.

That is, until your hold and breathing finally calm down. You keep riding the wave, your head turning in odd circle-ish shapes. He kisses your pussy, helping you through it, only stopping when you open your eyes.

“Well, that was…” he says, lips as swollen as you anticipated, shimmering, “a good start.”

“Every single time,” you begin, panting, shaking your head. You watch him as he gets on his feet, moving in to your mouth. “Every single time I think it can’t get better, and then I remember it’s just the fucking beginning.”

He shifts to you slowly, grazing your lips, and declares with a soft smile, “More to come, I promise. Gonna have so much fun with you.”

“Do your worst—”

One more kiss. Shorter this time, but you recognise the familiar, lingering taste immediately. Neutral, not too bad. Fills you with pride, because he never fails to guarantee that he loves it.

But you can’t wallow in it because he retreats quickly, impatient hands freeing his golden body from his clothes. The shirt falls somewhere next to the carpet, his own joggers soon discarded, landing on top of yours and sliding to the ground together.

He’s a menace when he climbs onto the couch, knees digging in and creating a shift on each side of your body. His bulge, still hidden behind his boxers, floats in front of your face; from this close, you see the droplet of precum darken a spot of the light purple cotton.

“Next stage?” he wonders above you, stroking your hair gently, as if he’s not about to explore the back of your throat. “Want or do I rather not?”

“What do you mean with not?” Your breathing is heavy as you lift your palm and engulf the imprint of his dick. He flinches, hips moving back a bit before they come back. “Get this shit off.”

He chuckles. Brings his hand to your cheek, thumb caressing it and voice clear when he says, “You’re so cute. Being demanding and all.”

But he still listens. Gets off the couch, slides his underwear off, leaves you gaping.

Gaping at the hooked and girthy tower. Gaping at how the slit on top of his head glimmers. Gaping at the moles along the stiff length, staring at the thick veins, at the full, firm balls.

“Tongue out,” he orders; you do.

The ink-free hand pushes his dick down to you, tapping it against your tongue as you open up wide. He feels heavy, hot, the skin smooth. Your head moves forward to swallow more, but he pulls back.

Strokes himself for a couple seconds, thumb spreading the precum over his head. You drool. Watch attentively, as though you’re learning — until he eventually guides it back to you and positions it into your still gaping mouth.

Enters it slowly. Slightly salty. Then says, “Breathe. And don’t overthink it too much.”

Huh.

Well. Damn.

Because…

At times, you do worry about your expressions; about your tears when you gag around him, the coughing fits you get in the middle of it all. So that’s a surprise. Attentive. 

But your mind is blank today anyway; so you nod, moving to lick the underside of the tip, and he laughs, mumbling, “Alright. Have it, babe.”

And you do.

Slowly at first, cautious as you twirl your tongue around him. You don’t notice much discomfort just yet, thankful that he’s easing you into this. A third of his length buried inside, you close your lips around him and hollow your cheeks.

Which is probably when the invisible threads holding him back finally break.

“Okay,” he says, “you got this.”

His knees move in, more inches intruding. His fingers drift to the back of your head, and you dig yours in his brawny thighs. He grows harder in your mouth, impossibly bigger the more you drag your lips along his member.

How gratifying. You’ve craved this for hours and days. What was your argument about again?

Your head drops further back when he shoves himself inside, more and more as time passes. You imitate his prior advances — hum and close your eyes. Bring a hand to the base of his cock, pumping all that you won’t be choking around.

When you gaze up at him to analyse his reactions, he leaves your mind vacant. Because his head is raised, like yours, jawline edged and acute. Mouth open until he meets your eyes.

You hope he’s seeing something just as lascivious and mind-numbing from his perspective. Maybe messy hair, laying against the softness of your shirt. Or a cock appearing out of and disappearing behind pretty lips.

Slowly blinking eyes that shut just as slowly again, and a tongue that falls out and licks along a vein whenever your head moves to the side. Allowing you a couple deep breaths.

He must be perceiving it all, too.

Because a moment later, he gnarls, like a wild animal, and states, “This won’t do—”

—Before putting both hands under your ears, holding your head and…

Ramming his cock into your mouth.

You gasp around him, taken aback and delighted at once. Feel the effect between your legs, hoping to not defile the couch too much.

Head still thrown back, falling further, you already feel the ache in the back of your neck. Your attempts of holding onto the couch prove futile because there is nothing to hold onto, armrests too far away; so you return to his thighs.

But he keeps your body steady, held at the spot between his legs. Your head is a different story: it bounces back and forth, the exhales through your nose frantic as he pounds into your throat before he slows down again.

“Good, gooood,” he drags out, observing the glistening veins as he draws back to his tip and then moves in again. “Doing very, very well. Looks so gorgeous, baby.”

You don’t know what he’s talking about — about you, his cock, the position. Everything? 

He keeps up the gentler pace, allowing you a break. Allowing himself the pleasure of this very image. Pretty lips surrounding a pretty dick.

And perhaps your desperate, little moans, accompanied by rapid blinking, set a fuse loose in his brain.

Because a moment later, Jungkook dares a step further — cock already stuffing your entire mouth, he pushes in more. The fat monstrosity reaches far, your gag reflex not as much at bay anymore as before.

The view seems to spur him on, though, and you can imagine why. If you were him, you’d probably enjoy the drooling mess under him, too. Salivating all over his dick, you feel the gross drop of your spit land on your clavicle, throat constricting as he thrusts in.

And just when you’re about to tap his thighs — very reluctantly, too — to catch your breath, he pulls back, fingers immediately digging into your cheeks to straighten your neck and head. You cough, eyes teary, your breathing quick and uncontrolled.

Like a toy, he moves your head to the left, to the right, a sly smirk playing around his lips until he moves down to you, back arched. Amidst your panting, he presses a brief kiss to your mouth, slippery against the dampness.

And then he says, as casually as he shouldn’t, “You’d look so beautiful in leashes.”

“…What?”

But he ignores your mumbled inquiry, instead thumbing at your lower lip. His dark eyes flit from one facial feature to another, pink lip caught between his teeth. The firm chest rises dangerously when he breathes in.

“Should I come in your mouth?” he asks as if you’d ever say no; as if you don’t know that he’s asking because he won’t. “Huh? Shoot it all the way down your throat?”

“Do it, fucking coward.”

…And just like that, he moves back.

tumblr is cruel and the 1k block limit in the new editor won't let me post the entire thing at once lol so here's the rest in a reblog!!! <3

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 YOU GOT ME NERVOUS TO SPEAK yu jimin x reader

↳ warnings jimin’s a mess, yn is a model and producer and older idol!karina x famous!reader

you could never catch jimin lacking confidence. she carried herself with an air of self-assuredness that was impossible to ignore, and she always thought highly of herself. nerves? they were foreign to her.

however, jimin had her moments. moments where friends and managers took advantage of her kindness, slipping past her defenses. though these instances were minor, they left a lasting sting, prompting her to build a thick wall around her emotions.

now, nobody could make her feel less than the strong woman she knew herself to be. nobody could easily sway her into doing things for them, and most importantly, nobody could ever make her nervous.

or so she thought.

jimin had heard of yn a few times—just in passing. she knew yn was a high end model, admired for her beauty. but that wasn’t all. yn was also a talented music producer who had worked with various artists, particularly under SM entertainment.despite this, yn had never collaborated with aespa.

that was until their fist full album.

"oh my gosh, she's so cool," aeri exclaimed as she walked out of the recording studio, plopping down beside minjeong. her cheeks were still flushed with excitement. "she complimented my outfit, bro! I wanted to die. she’s so hot."

yizhuo and minjeong nodded in fervent agreement, both still riding the high from their own recording sessions with yn.

"she's in love with me," yizhuo bragged with a grin, her voice dripping with playful confidence. "she kept complimenting my voice. I was literally serenading her."

jimin rolled her eyes at her members’ antics, feeling a bit of skepticism creep in. "stop being delusional," she teased, getting up from her seat and preparing to enter the studio herself. "I guess it's my turn with your little crush," she added, a smirk playing on her lips as she walked through the door.

the moment jimin stepped inside, the first thing she noticed was yn, lounging casually in the producer’s chair, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as if lost in thought. there was something about the way yn carried herself—calm, composed, yet effortlessly commanding the room.

jimin cleared her throat, drawing yn’s attention. the producer turned her head, her eyes slowly scanning jimjn from head to toe. the intensity of yn’s gaze made jimin instinctively tug at her sleeves, suddenly hyper-aware of her appearance under the scrutiny.

“hey,” yn greeted, a lazy smile spreading across her lips as she leaned forward in her chair. “best for last, huh?”

jimin felt her face heat up at the comment. It wasn’t just the words, but the way yn said them, smooth and confident, with a hint of something more. the girls weren’t lying, yn had an undeniable charm that was hard to resist.

jimin, for the first time in as long as she could remember, felt a flutter of nervousness. she didn’t like it—not one bit. she tried to brush it off with a light chuckle, but it came out more awkward than she intended, causing yn to raise an eyebrow at her.

“oh-oh, sorry,” jimin stammered, quickly moving toward the recording booth, hoping to shake off the strange feeling that had settled in her stomach. as she stepped inside, she heard yn’s soft laugh. a sound that only made her cheeks burn hotter.

from behind the glass, yn adjusted her glasses, her eyes flicking between a piece of paper and jimin. “you’ve gone over your parts?”

“yep,” jimin replied, trying her best to regain her composure. she watched as yn nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

“good. I’m actually going to have you start with the bridge,” yn instructed, her tone professional yet still carrying that undertone of warmth. “I want to see how it sounds alongside winter’s voice.”

“sounds good,” jimin said, eager to get started. she wanted to get this over with—to finish the session so she could stop feeling whatever it was that yn was making her feel.

yn gave her a small smile. “confident.”

“always am,” jimin replied, a hint of her usual vibe returning.

“that’s cute,” yn remarked, laughing when she saw the shock on jimin’s face. “alright, let’s get recording.”

jimin was so ready to get this over with but who knew one producer could screw her over like this.

it wasn’t going as smoothly as jimin had hoped. an hour passed, and she couldn’t seem to get a single line right. wvery time she tried to focus, she felt yn’s eyes on her, and it threw her off completely. It was frustrating—she had never had this problem before. she was usually the epitome of professionalism, but now she was fumbling over words like a rookie.

jimin gently banged her head against the mic in frustration, eliciting a soft laugh of pity from yn. “Is there any reason why you’re having such a hard time?” yn asked, her tone laced with genuine curiosity.

“you,” jimin grumbled, surprising herself with the admission. she hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it was the truth.

“me?” yn repeated, her voice tinged with amusement.

jimin sighed and leaned back against the wall of the booth, running a hand through her hair. “I’m just… I’m used to certain producers. you’re new to me, I guess. I’m having a hard time because I don’t know you.” the words tumbled out, a half-truth meant to mask the real reason behind her nerves—how was she supposed to tell yn that her presence was distracting because she was just too damn attractive?

It was totally bullshit but it’s all she could think of, how else is she supposed to say “hey, I’m having a hard time because you’re very hot and I can’t focus.”

yn seemed to sense the half-lie, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she nodded thoughtfully, biting the inside of her cheek as if holding back a smile. “alright, then. you can get to know me,” she said casually. “you know the party sm is throwing in a couple of days? find me there.”

jimin did know about the party. It was a big event, meant to celebrate sm artists, choreographers, and producers. she hadn’t planned on going—parties weren’t really her scene—but it seemed she had no choice now.

“okay… I guess I’ll see you there,” jimin agreed, her voice quieter than usual.

“yup,” yn replied, her tone light. “now go tell your members why you couldn’t finish recording because you didn’t know me.” yhe mockery in her voice was playful, causing Jimin to laugh despite herself.

“bye,” jimin said softly, her smile lingering as she turned to leave the room. she couldn’t help but glance back one last time, seeing yn wave with that same teasing grin.

Is it possible to develop a crush in an hour? because it seems like jimin definitely had one

jimin stood beside aeri at the party, her usual confidence feeling slightly out of reach. The sm event was in full swing, with artists, producers, and choreographers mingling under the soft glow of the ambient lights. laughter and chatter filled the room, but jimin found herself unusually quiet, her eyes scanning the crowd.

“you seem nervous,” aeri noted, nudging jimin with her elbow. “I thought you were too cool to get nervous.”

jimin forced a laugh, trying to play it off. “I’m not nervous,” she insisted, though her eyes betrayed her as they continued to dart around the room, searching for a familiar face.

“hh-huh,” aeri teased, clearly not buying it. “If you say so.”

just as Jimin was about to retort, she spotted yn across the room. he producer/model was in deep conversation with a group of sm’s top choreographers, looking effortlessly laid back yn’s presence was magnetic, and it wasn’t just jimin who noticed—several heads turned to glance at her, admiration clear in their eyes.

jimin felt her heart skip a beat when yn’s gaze suddenly locked onto hers. the conversation yn was having seemed to fade into the background as she smiled at jimin, her eyes lighting up with recognition. without breaking eye contact, yn raised her hand and waved jimin over, the gesture both casual and inviting.

“you’re gonna go over there, right?” aeri asked, leaning in with a knowing smirk.

“yeah, I guess,” jimin muttered, trying to sound nonchalant. but inside, her nerves were buzzing, and her feet felt heavier than they should as she began to make her way across the room.

as she approached, yn excused herself from the group she had been talking to, turning her full attention to jimin. “hey,” yn greeted, her voice smooth and warm, just like in the studio. “glad you made it.”

“yeah, well… couldn’t miss it, could I?” jimin replied, cursing herself internally for how awkward she sounded. she took a steadying breath, trying to find her footing. “You look great, by the way.”

yn’s smile widened, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “thank you. you clean up pretty well yourself,” she complimented, her gaze sweeping over jimin appreciatively. “though, I have to say, I’m still thinking about what happened in the studio.”

jimin’s heart sank slightly, knowing exactly what yn was referring to. she let out a nervous laugh, trying to brush it off. “about that… sorry I wasn’t at my best. It was just, you know, the new environment and all.”

“mm-hmm,” yn hummed, clearly unconvinced. she leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a playful whisper. “or maybe it was something else… or someone else?”

jimin’s cheeks flushed, the teasing sound in yn’s voice making it hard to maintain eye contact. “okay, maybe I was a little… distracted,” she admitted, the words tumbling out before she could stop herself.

yn raised an eyebrow, her smile turning into a smirk. “distracted, huh? by what, exactly?”

jimin hesitated, feeling the heat rise in her face. she knew there was no way out of this without admitting some of the truth. “by you,” she finally confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… you’re different from the other producers I’ve worked with. It kind of threw me off.”

yn seemed to savor the admission, her smirk softening into a more genuine smile. “I guess I should be flattered then,” she said, her tone still playful but with a hint of sincerity. “but you didn’t have to make up that little excuse about not knowing me. I think you were just nervous.”

jimin bit her lip, feeling both embarrassed and amused by how easily yn had seen through her lie. “maybe I was,” she admitted, surprising herself with how honest she was being.

yn’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in even closer, her voice just a breath away from jimin’s ear. “well, if it makes you feel better, I thought it was cute.”

jimin’s heart skipped another beat, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. the way yn was looking at her—with that mix of teasing and something more—was making her feel things she wasn’t used to feeling, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

trying to regain some semblance of control, jimin cleared her throat and straightened up, a small, nervous smile on her lips. “So… about that recording session. maybe we could, um, try again? Without the distractions this time.”

“oh?” yn’s interest was clearly piqued, her smirk returning. “and what kind of distractions are you talking about?”

jimin felt her face heat up again, but this time, she decided to lean into it. “how about just the two of us in the studio? no members in the outside room. no distractions,” she suggested, her tone carrying a hint of flirtation despite the nervousness still gnawing at her.

yn seemed to consider this for a moment, her gaze lingering on jimin with an intensity that made the air between them feel charged. “I think that could be arranged,” she finally replied, her voice low and smooth. “just you and me.”

“just us,” jimin echoed, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“well then,” yn said, straightening up but still keeping her eyes locked on Jimin. “It’s a date. I’ll make sure the studio is ready. you just bring that confidence you’re so famous for.”

jimin nodded, her heart racing but excitement bubbling up alongside the nerves. “I’ll be there.”

“looking forward to it,” yn replied, her smile lingering as she took a step back, giving Jimin one last look before turning away, leaving Jimin standing there, trying to process everything that had just happened.

as yn walked away, jimin couldn’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and nerves. It seemed like she had gotten herself into something she wasn’t quite prepared for—but at the same time, she was eager to see where this new, unexpected connection might lead.

I guess you can say she was okay with feeling a bit nervous.

[munson-blurbs]

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: When you confide in your boyfriend about your difficulty getting wet, his reaction is not what you'd expected.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), reader takes antidepressants

A/N: To all the afab folks who, for whatever reasons, can't get wet--this is for you.

Collaboration with the queen of fluffy smut, @corroded-hellfire 😘

--

“Feel good, baby?” Eddie growls in your ear, his fingers digging into the skin above the waistband of your panties. His other hand cups your breast, still concealed by your bra, though you venture it won’t be long before it’s uncovered. 

You continue grinding on his bare thigh, his boxers pushed up high. The outline of his cock shows through the cotton, and you can’t help but grab it. He inhales sharply at the sudden contact, making you giggle.

“Love seeing you all turned on, Eds,” you murmur, sucking a bruise into his neck that has his eyes rolling back in his head. He moves his hand from your waist to your clit, pressing slow circles to the sensitive bud over the lace. A moan slips past your lips, quickly turning into a whimper of his name. “F-Fuck, Eddie. Right there.”

Despite your words and the drag of your cunt on his leg, Eddie can’t help but question whether or not you’re faking it. “How ya feelin’ baby?” he whispers, tiptoeing around the more direct question in a means of cushioning his ego. 

“So good.”

Okay. Good. You feel so good. Everything’s…good. Right?

Eddie pulls back, ducking behind his hair and missing your confused expression. “We can stop if you’re not into it,” he mutters. He’s not angry at you; he’s angry at himself, because he’s clearly doing something wrong if you’re not…

“Wh-Why wouldn’t I be into it?” Your eyebrows pinch together. You’d been together a few months and hadn’t slept together yet, but you’d thought tonight could be the night.

“Because you’re not really…” Eddie struggles to find the right words. “Like, you sound into it, but I don’t feel you getting turned on.”

Embarrassment heats up your body. You slide off of him and onto his carpeted floor, repositioning yourself so you’re facing away from him. You can still see him out of your peripheral vision, but you hope he doesn’t notice the tears welling in your eyes. “M sorry, baby.” Your voice is small, and despite your best efforts, it catches in your throat when you speak.

He rests his hand on your upper arm, gently caressing it with his thumb. “Hey, hey,” he says softly, trying to hide his disappointment at the unreciprocated longing. “We gave it a shot. You can’t help if this doesn’t get you going.” He gives a little shimmy, shoulders swaying back and forth clumsily.

You turn back around towards him,  “You think…no, Eds. You’re so sexy, even when you do your weird little dances.”

“I’ll have you know,” Eddie starts, giving you a playful look, “that my weird little dances have gotten me not one, but…yeah, okay, just the one hot girl’s phone number.”

“And it was mine.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He reaches for your hand and holds it tentatively. “But if I’m making you feel good, how come you don’t get…y’know…?”

Instinct has you wanting to turn away from him in shame, but his grip on your hand is enough to keep you where you are. It’s hard to meet his eyes, but once you do and that big doe stare tugs at your heart, you let out a sigh.

“You’re making me feel amazing, Eddie. It’s just…I don’t really get…I mean, I can’t get too…” The right words don’t seem to find you and frustration balls up inside of you. You slap your free hand over your eyes, partially out of frustration, but also to hide the tears that are beginning to well up. 

“Hey…” Eddie lightly chides as he rubs his thumb along the back of your hand. “You can talk to me. You know that.”

The hand falls from your face and you take a deep breath. Words jumble through your brain, trying to figure out how to come from another direction. “Y-You know how I have depression and anxiety.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” you say, swallowing before continuing, “the meds they give me for them…they, uh…well, they kind of keep me from being able to get…”

“Wet?” Eddie offers.

You nod, a few tears breaking free despite your attempts to keep them in. 

“I can…a little…just not a whole lot. I’m sorry.” 

Eddie frowns and shakes his head. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because,” you say, huffing a humorless laugh, “you’re so cute and sweet and I’m worried that when we actually have sex, it won’t feel good for you.”

He pauses for a moment, tongue poking out from his lips in the way that makes you melt as he reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a bottle of lube. He holds the small pink tube up between the two of you.

“Think this’ll work?” he asks.

You raise an eyebrow in amusement. The bottle is the last thing you expected Eddie to pull out of that unorganized mess he calls a nightstand. 

“Where did you get that?” you ask.

“Well, uh,” Eddie starts, cheeks tingeing pink. You notice he continues to look at the lube instead of you. “I use it every night when I think of you.”

The words take you by surprise, even though he’s your boyfriend. It’s not like you hadn’t gotten off thinking about him long before the two of you even started dating. 

“You…you think of me?”

“Well, yeah,” Eddie shrugs with a grin. “My girl is ridiculously beautiful, you think I’m not going to get off thinking about her every night before I go to bed? And most mornings before school?” He ducks his head and his bashfulness makes him look especially boyish. “Plus, there was all that time before we started dating when we were just friends…”

“So that’s why it’s more than half empty,” you say, a small smile breaking through on your lips. 

“I prefer to think of it as half full.” Eddie’s roguish smile has you breaking out into a full blown grin. You let out a chuckle as you pluck the bottle from your boyfriend’s fingers. 

“I didn’t peg you for a strawberry kind of guy, Munson.”

Eddie looks down with a shy expression on his face. Every time you make him flustered you take it as a personal victory.

“It’s, uh, it’s ‘cause it smells like your chapstick.” He leans up and presses a kiss to your nose. When he sees the effect that has on you, mischievousness creeps back onto his face. “What do you say…wanna give it a try?”

You exhale, still frustrated. The anxiety at the back of your brain is still saying that Eddie is just being nice about this. That he really thinks it’s weird and doesn’t want to have sex with you now.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? With being with someone who needs to use lube?” you double check.

Eddie looks at you with an incredulous expression. “Baby, I’d use WD40 if it meant being inside you.”

A snort of laughter escapes you and you lightly slap his chest.

“Eddie, I’m serious!”

“I am, too! Shit, I’ll go grab some Crisco from the cabinet right now—”

“Eddie!” You sigh. “I know you’re going to wanna have, like, spontaneous sex. That might not be something I can do if we don’t have lube.”

Eddie shrugs without missing a beat. “I’ll carry it around with me. Like pocket lube or something.”

“Pocket lube?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. 

He laughs, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “We can keep this one here, and I’ll buy another one for the van. How does that sound?”

The offer has your heart melting and you lean into his body. “Sounds like you’re the best boyfriend in the world.”

“Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet,” he smirks, tugging gently at the waistband of your panties. “May I lube up the fair maiden?”

“As long as you promise never to say that again,” you say, already climbing onto his bed. 

“Noted,” he agrees with a laugh before turning his attention to the panties that block his view of your beautiful pussy. He drags the lacy fabric down your legs and tosses it aside as you unclasp your bra. A goofy grin spreads across his face as he takes one breast in each hand. “Sorry,” he says, though his tone has no ounce of apology, “but you can’t just show off your tits and expect me to focus on anything else.”

You roll your eyes and giggle, a fluttering feeling in your stomach that goes beyond the moment’s lust. The way he can make you laugh in your most vulnerable moments is special, and you want to capture this joy and keep it forever.  

“Lay back and open these pretty legs for me, Sweetheart.” Eddie squeezes out some lube onto the tips of his forefinger and middle finger, gently pumping them in and out of you, going a bit deeper each time “‘S good?”

“Mhm. So, so fucking good, fuck.” Your walls clench around his fingers in a silent plea for him to be buried deep inside you. 

“Tell me if you need more, okay baby doll?”

You nod, really only able to fixate on the way his fingers feel inside you. The addition of the lubricant removes any unwanted friction, and you moan louder than you intend to. 

“Your noises…holy fuckin’ shit.” Eddie muses, palming himself over his boxers. 

You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment. “‘M sorry.”

He pauses his movements, drawing a whimper from your lips. “Don’t ever apologize for making such beautiful sounds. It’s crazy hot, baby.”

“Really?”

He uses his free hand to grab your wrist, bringing your palm to his tented boxers. The fabric strains against his raging erection. 

“Really.”

With that, you let yourself fully indulge in the feeling of his fingers. You barely recognize the noises you’re making; you’ve never felt this good in your whole life. 

The way Eddie’s tongue pokes from his mouth gives you another idea, and you press your thighs together to stop his ministrations. 

He looks up at you, brows knitted together in confusion. “What is it, baby? More?” He starts to reach for the bottle until he sees you shake your head. 

“Do you, uh, w-wanna taste the lube?” It’s as straightforward as you can manage, still overwhelmed by the pleasure washing over your body. 

Eddie’s cock twitches, his face contorted in amused disbelief. “Are you seriously asking me if I want to eat you out?” he asks. “Was it not obvious that that would be a yes?” 

He throws your legs over his shoulders so quickly that it has you laughing in surprise, but that laughter stops as soon as his mouth is on you. His tongue immediately finds your clit, flicking over it until your toes curl. He wraps his lips around it and sucks gently until he has you on the brink of orgasm. His fingers return to your needy hole, filling you expertly until you cum with a wanton moan. 

“So fucking good f’me,” Eddie says, still between your legs. His mouth and chin are covered in a slick sheen. “You wanna taste now, baby? Wanna know just how delicious you are?”

You open your mouth and eagerly accept his fingers. They taste of your arousal and a hint of strawberry; it does bear a striking similarity to your Chapstick. Once Eddie lets his fingers drop from your mouth, you’re whining and writhing below him. 

“Need you, Eds.” It sounds more like a whimper than a plea. But your beautiful boyfriend isn’t about to deny you a thing—let alone something that he also wants very badly. 

“Fuck, need you too, baby doll.” He launches his boxers across the room and smears some lube on his cock, bucking his hips slightly into his closed palm. He doesn’t break eye contact as he enters you, searching for any inkling of discomfort. The stretch is delicious, and you arch your back once he bottoms out. 

“Look at you, taking all of me. My good girl,” Eddie growls, watching his cock disappear into your cunt. “Holy shit; I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this perfect pussy from me.”

You shiver at the praise, blinking away the prickling tears on your lash line. 

Eddie gradually picks up the pace, snapping his hips into you. His pubic hair grazes yours and he lets out a groan of his own. 

“Could stay like this forever,” he mumbles in your ear, forearms braced on either side of your head. 

So could you. Except…

“Eds?”

“Hmm?”

You swallow your timidness. I can trust him. “I think, um…could you use some more lube?” You’re embarrassed and annoyed at yourself for having to interrupt the moment, but Eddie’s unfazed. 

“Sure. Can I just put it inside you? Cuz, uh, if I put it on my dick, I’m gonna bust in my hand.” He gives a small laugh, though you both know he’s not joking. 

Eddie gingerly fingers you, all-too aware of how oversensitive and overstimulated your pussy is. At some point, he’ll have fun teasing you with his touch, but tonight is about your comfort. 

He slides his cock back inside you. “Better?”

“Much,” you manage, re-acclimating your body to him being inside you. “Thank you, baby.”

“‘Course. Let me know if you need more again, ‘kay?”

You nod, relishing in the way he fills you. His cock presses against your walls; you can feel every last inch of him.

Eddie doesn’t stop showering you with praise as he pistons his hips. “Love when my girl tells me what she needs,” he says with a small smirk. “I’d do fuckin’ anything for you, sweet thing.” A few strands of hair cover his eye, and you swipe it away. “Thanks.”

“Any time.” You manage a smile of your own before he catches you off guard, positioning you so he can rub your clit while fucking you. Your jaw drops in surprise; it’s exactly the reaction he wanted. “Just like that, Eds. Holy shit, right there!”

“That’s what you like? Hmm? Like when I’m deep inside your perfect pussy, making you feel good?” The hand not making small figure-eights on your swollen bud grabs your ass, squeezing it possessively. “Like when I claim you? Let me show you who you belong to.”

The combination of Eddie deep within you and being claimed by him pushes you over the edge. The coil snaps and you choke out a sob of relief as pleasure invades your body. You finish on his cock, chanting his name like a prayer. 

“Fuck, c-can’t hold out anym-more,” he grunts, and with a cry of your name, he fills you with his own release. He stays inside you for a moment, catching his breath; when he finally pulls out, you can feel his cum dripping down your bare thigh. He hurries to grab the faded blue towel hanging from the back of his door, wiping you off before plopping next to you. He draws tiny circles on your forearm while pressing kisses to your shoulder. 

“Was that good? It didn’t hurt or anything, right? Because I kinda lost my mind at the end—” 

You silence him with a kiss that only ends because you both start smiling. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had. No one’s ever made me cum before,” you admit. 

Eddie scoots back slightly. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope. You’re the first. So, um, thank you?”

He puffs out his chest, slick with perspiration. “No need to thank us, baby. We’d do anything for you.”

“‘We?’” You cock your eyebrow. 

“Yeah, me and the lube,” he states plainly, as if this is an obvious fact. “We make a pretty good team, dontcha think?”

“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.”

“I dunno, I thought my ‘pocket lube’ idea was pretty damn brilliant.”

--

[thedensworld]

Don't Touch Mine | Y.Jh

Pairing: ceo!Jeonghan x secretary!Reader

Genre: romance, friends to lovers, angst, smut

Words count: 1k

Summary: Jeonghan had hid his feelings for you, but he had been in denial. Then, an unexpected event occurred, and everything changed.

Joshua nudged Seungcheol, subtly signaling towards their best friend, who had been casting his gaze across the entire ballroom. The two of them exchanged glances, sharing an inside joke known only to the trio, including the man himself, Yoon Jeonghan.

"Looking for Y/n?" Joshua chirped, his voice lightly teasing. It seemed to slightly irk Jeonghan, who promptly redirected his attention towards his two closest companions. He raised his glass, taking a sip of the wine that had been resting there.

Seungcheol let his eyes wander and easily spotted you standing with none other than Chwe Hansol, a budding businessman bearing a striking resemblance to the young Leonardo DiCaprio.

"Absolutely not," Jeonghan mumbled, offering a smile to the other guests who passed by and recognized the three of them.

"Then you should be alright with Y/n talking with Chwe," Seungcheol remarked, motioning towards you and Hansol. From Jeonghan's perspective, you two seemed a bit too friendly.

Jeonghan swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. "She's my secretary. It's my responsibility to ensure she doesn't make a fool of herself," he explained, eliciting chuckles from Joshua and Seungcheol.

"She's the one who saved you from that. Remember the charity ball at Jeon's group?" Joshua reminded Jeonghan of a minor chaos he had caused last time.

Jeonghan closed his eyes, trying to push away the sudden surge of old memories. Blame his low alcohol tolerance that led him to take an unplanned dive into the pond in the middle of the ballroom. He was thankful that the event had been private, sparing him from any media scrutiny.

"I hope everyone's forgotten it, like I've tried to," he sighed.

Seungcheol suddenly cleared his throat, nodding towards your location. "Kim Mingyu is approaching them," he said, an alert tone in his voice. That was enough to snap Jeonghan back to attention.

Jeonghan turned his body, observing how the casanova attempted to flirt with his secretary. Could he blame the guy? He wasn't sure. Or should he blame you for looking absolutely stunning tonight in that black dress that hugged your figure little too tight? Since he'd seen you step into his office before the ball, Jeonghan hadn't been able to shake off the effect.

"Look at that guy, he's got such a cheap stare," Jeonghan remarked to his friends, his distaste evident on his face as he observed Kim Mingyu.

Joshua playfully elbowed him in the stomach. "Alright, you're being a bit too loud, but I agree, man."

Seungcheol chuckled softly. "But the guy does have a certain charm, you've got to admit." His comment earned an eye roll from Joshua. "Are you on his side or Jeonghan's?"

Jeonghan turned to Joshua, a protest forming on his lips. Joshua simply shrugged and continued, "To make Y/n yours?"

Jeonghan scoffed, "She's already mine," he declared, before striding away from his best friends.

*

As you drove back to Jeonghan's home after the event, he couldn't help but ask, "What were you discussing with Hansol and Mingyu?"

"We were talking about our latest ad project for the release. Hansol expressed interest in a collaboration," you explained, opening your iPad to show him Chwe Hansol's company profile.

Jeonghan leaned in, genuinely intrigued by the conversation, engrossed in the work that C.Creative had accomplished. He instructed you to delve deeper into the company's projects that could potentially be worked on with Hansol and compile a report.

As you diligently took notes, he suddenly inquired, "What did Mingyu talk to you about? Is he bothering you?" You shook your head, reassuring him.

"Absolutely not. He just had some questions about our app, which I already addressed," you reassured him.

Jeonghan's brow furrowed, curiosity piqued. "What did he say?"

"Um... Just about our system on Nevitech and... some personal matters," you replied.

"Did he ask you out?" Jeonghan's direct question caused you to bite your lip, and with a hesitant nod, you confirmed it.

Jeonghan sighed, his concern evident. "Do you want me to talk to him? I can make it clear if you're not interested..."

You interrupted him, "I am actually interested in him."

Jeonghan was taken aback, blinking in surprise. He leaned back in his seat. "Oh... I didn't know you liked him."

"Like is a strong word. I'm just open to the possibility of dating... you know, it's been a while," you explained, trying to be reasonable.

Jeonghan had to admit, your dedication to him and the company was commendable. It was one of the reasons he always tried to keep you low-profile or shielded at business gatherings, out of concern that someone might try to recruit you. It spoke volumes about your potential as his secretary.

He still remembered that you had a boyfriend when you first joined the company, but after a few months, he noticed the absence. Jeonghan was never one to cross professional boundaries, especially at work. But when he finished his work and saw you waiting for him, he felt a pang of guilt. It was a Friday, and you should have been spending time with your significant other.

"You're not home?" he inquired.

You shook your head and replied, "I was waiting for you, sir."

Glancing at his watch, Jeonghan realized it was well past dinner time. "Have you had dinner?" Another shake of the head from you.

That night, you both shared a meal, and it was during this time that he learned about your breakup due to your busy schedule. He also discovered you were from the same high school and that you were his junior.

"You should call me by my name, Y/n," Jeonghan suggested casually, not expecting that this casualness would lead to whatever he was feeling these days.

"Jeonghan..." Your voice saying his name brought him back from his reverie. Those were simpler times, when nobody knew you, and he had you to himself.

"Jeonghan, we've arrived," you informed him. He turned to you, realizing you were now in the basement of his penthouse.

Nodding, Jeonghan stepped out of the car. You gave him a respectful bow before he started to walk away. Just as he took his fifth step, he turned back to you. "Y/n... Could you come in for a bit? There's something else I'd like to discuss."

You glanced at your watch, then nodded. After grabbing your belongings, you followed him inside.

*

Jeonghan awoke with a pounding headache, his reminder of his abysmal alcohol tolerance. However, he couldn't forget everything that transpired the night before.

"Y/n, I like you. A lot.'"

Immediately, he sat up, surveying the disarray he had left in his wake. He cursed himself, realizing he hadn't bothered to put on any clothes, and now you were gone. As the memories flooded back, he buried his face in his hands, anxious about how to handle the situation with you after what had happened.

A confession had led to a heated night that Jeonghan never anticipated. He berated himself, trying to dismiss any foolish thoughts, and checked the clock on his nightstand. It read 7 am, meaning he'd see you in the office in an hour. What should he do? Act as if it never happened? Apologize and insist it was a one-time thing? Jeonghan took a deep breath, resolving to go with the latter option. He was your boss, and you were his secretary. A romantic relationship between you two was impractical. It was definitely a one-time occurrence. You wouldn't see him as a man, would you? He reasoned that emotions had gotten the best of him last night, and you had been intoxicated.

That's all it was.

"Yeah... Right there... Please... J-Jeonghan..."

He groaned in frustration.

Walking into his office, he saw your silhouette already seated at your desk. He tried to steady the pounding in his chest and let out a deep sigh. He swore he'd never felt so on edge before. When he stepped into the office, you promptly stood and gave him a respectful bow. He paused in front of your desk, debating whether he should broach the subject of last night.

He gave you a nod before walking into his private room, finally able to breathe a bit easier. The knowledge that you were just meters away from him was torturous. He set his things down and sat at his desk, only to be jolted by a sudden knock. Acting out of character, he permitted you to enter with breakfast in hand.

"You got this for me?" He asked, puzzled. You blinked, as this was the usual routine every morning.

"I-I mean, you... you were gone this morning... to get this for me?" He stammered, audibly swallowing.

You nodded, "yes, please enjoy your breakfast," you calmly replied, bowing, and started to leave the room.

Jeonghan cleared his throat, "Y/n..." He hesitated, "whatever happened last night was a mistake. I'm sorry for that. It's so unprofessional of me," he began.

Your gaze met his, a pregnant pause hanging in the air. Slowly, you nodded and turned away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Days melted into weeks, the air between you and Jeonghan growing fragile. With a major project on the horizon, you both became engulfed in a whirlwind of activity, leaving little room to address the events of weeks past. Jeonghan found some solace in this.

But there was a noticeable shift. You weren't as talkative and lighthearted as before, which tugged at Jeonghan's heart. He cherished your jokes, a beacon of levity during the exhaustive whirl of meetings and paperwork. Now, your words were dominated by work, a change he couldn't help but take note of.

After a meeting with a foreign client, all Jeonghan yearned for was some respite. You both traversed the hotel corridor, you leading the way to his room.

"If you need anything, you can call my room," you offered, and he nodded, promptly entering his room.

As Jeonghan settled in for some rest, the night wrapped around him. It was nearly 10 pm when he ordered room service for dinner and summoned you to join him. When you knocked on his door, he welcomed you in, preparing the table. Just as he was about to pour the wine, a wave of memories crashed over him, stalling his hand. You looked at him with curiosity, but Jeonghan shook it off and poured the wine.

"Please, enjoy," he said to you as you both savored the meal.

The dinner continued with a brief discussion about the next day's schedule, as Jeonghan had several engagements in Singapore.

"What about the project with C.Creative?" Jeonghan reminded you about the upcoming project with Chwe Hansol's advertising company, currently working on their new release.

"I contacted them yesterday, and they're working on the proposal. When do you want them to present it?"

Jeonghan wondered, checking his schedule on his phone. "I think Friday would be great." You nodded and quickly jotted it down. "I'll email them tomorrow morning."

"Did you bring the MoU for tomorrow? I want to double-check," Jeonghan asked for the MoU file with the Singapore client to be signed the next day.

You reached for your things. As you searched for the file, an envelope labeled 'Resignation Letter' flew to Jeonghan's attention. His brows furrowed. Before you could retrieve it, Jeonghan quickly snatched it and opened it.

"You're about to resign? Why?" Surprise painted on his face, he inquired seriously.

You glanced around, avoiding his eyes, still searching for the reason you hadn't fully formed.

"I... I think it's been a while since I started working for you. I need a new experience, a new challenge to develop myself," you explained.

Jeonghan didn't seem entirely satisfied with your answer. He looked at you again and said, "Is it because of the salary? Do you want a raise? How much?"

Your eyes widened. "No, Jeonghan. You pay me more than enough. It's not about the money," you clarified.

Jeonghan tilted his head, a tinge of concern. "I don't find it reasonable for you to quit, Y/n. You know better than anyone that being my secretary in this industry is quite challenging."

You sealed your lips and let out a sigh before revealing the real reason. "I don't find it enjoyable anymore, working with you, Jeonghan."

Jeonghan felt a small twinge in his heart at your words. He slowly prodded further, "Is it... because of what happened last time?" He asked cautiously.

You nodded slowly. "I know you made it clear it was a one-time thing. But, I think it's changed a lot, between us," you said, finally expressing what was on your mind.

Jeonghan took a deep breath. "Then what's your plan?"

"Kim's Property has sent me a proposal to work for them."

Kim's Property? Kim Mingyu?

"Wait!" Jeonghan began, "You want to quit because you find that we've been unprofessional, but you want to work with Kim Mingyu? The guy who's been hitting on you?" A sudden surge of anger filled Jeonghan.

"I'll be his father's secretary, so we won't work directly with each other."

Jeonghan couldn't help but chuckle, finding it rather perplexing that you were willing to work with Kim Mingyu despite the perceived unprofessionalism. He felt a sense of injustice in this situation.

"Why? What's the real reason you don't want to work with me?" Jeonghan pressed, feeling that your previous explanations were merely excuses to distance yourself from him.

"We're being unprofessional, Jeonghan. I don't think I could continue working with you," you asserted.

Jeonghan scoffed, frustration and confusion coursing through him. "Tell me the exact reason, Y/n! You don't like me anymore? Suddenly you don't enjoy working with me?"

"It's because I do like you."

Jeonghan's mouth hung open, stunned by your candid admission.

"I've liked you since you took me to that dinner five years ago. And when you finally confessed that you liked me that night, I was over the moon. But the next morning... you said it was just a one-time thing, a mistake, and I... I couldn't look at you the same way again. I'm sorry..."

"What?" Jeonghan's voice was barely above a whisper. He rubbed his face, finally connecting all the dots from the strange tension between you two in recent weeks.

You took a deep breath before continuing, "I hope you can understand, Jeonghan," and with that, you rose from your chair and headed towards the door.

As Jeonghan saw you walk out, he immediately pulled your arm and landed his lips on yours. He pushed your body against the wall while his other hand reached the nape of your neck to deepen the kiss. The kiss lasted for seconds before he pulled away. Jeonghan looked into your eyes before pulling you into another kiss. In this moment, you raised your hand to cling to his neck, savoring the intimacy you shared in the room.

"I like you. No, I love you, Y/n," Jeonghan whispered in the midst of your shared kiss.

He pulled away from the kiss and looked into your eyes, "that time wasn't a mistake. It was stupid of me to say that."

You stared at him and felt tears welling in your eyes. Your heart pounded so much when Jeonghan pulled you into another kiss, but this time with so much passion and lust. His kiss slowly trailed to your neck as his body pressed you against the wall, almost enveloping you. He tapped your thigh, motioning for you to jump on him, and you hugged his waist with your legs. His hand roamed your figure, and his other cupped your cheek.

"May I?" He asked, his gaze never leaving yours. You nodded slowly as he took your shirt off and unclasped your bra. He kissed your chest as one of his hands went to one of your breasts.

"You're mine, Y/n. You're mine."

*

Jeonghan's eyes wandered across the ballroom, searching for your figure as Seungcheol spoke to him. "Are you even listening, Yoon Jeonghan?"

Seungcheol's words pulled Jeonghan's attention, causing him to turn his head towards his friend. He hummed in response, nodding as if he had been listening. Seungcheol chuckled at his best friend. "Looking for Joshua?"

"Yeah... Is he late? He said he'd be here in ten." Jeonghan muttered, glancing at his watch.

"There he is," Seungcheol said, motioning towards Joshua, who was approaching them.

"Alone?" Seungcheol asked Joshua. Joshua shook his head. "She was talking to someone earlier," he said, pointing to where his secretary was. Jeonghan immediately turned his head in that direction.

"Stop looking for my secretary!" Joshua nudged Jeonghan's arm.

Jeonghan scoffed, "She was mine before yours," he mumbled, finally spotting you in conversation with a woman.

"How can she look that stunning?" Jeonghan remarked to Joshua and Seungcheol when he saw you in your silk red dress with your hair down.

As he watched the tall Kim Mingyu approach you, Jeonghan promptly handed his glass to Seungcheol and made a beeline for your location.

"Hi honey, you look gorgeous," Jeonghan interjected, interrupting your conversation with Kim Mingyu. The Casanova seemed taken aback by Jeonghan's bold move as his hand gently reached for your waist and he planted a sweet kiss on your shoulder.

Mingyu let out a chuckle. "Is this the reason you joined Joshua's company? Because you're together."

Jeonghan smiled at Mingyu and pulled your body closer to his, gazing at you tenderly before leaning in to plant a kiss on your cheek.

"Yeah, she's mine."

[star-sim]

you've got to be kitten me! ☆ jungwon yang

☆ class president! jungwon x troublemaker! fem! reader ☆ summary: jungwon yang, the stuck-up class president, had a secret: at night, he transformed into a cat. when you, the class's residential troublemaker (and one of the people that jungwon simply couldn't bring himself to understand), accidentally discovered his secret, jungwon found himself questioning his role in the school hierarchy. ☆ genre: fluff!!!! highschool! au, classmates to friends to lovers!!! very silly supernatural occurances, follows the asian school system btw, jungwon is lowk a loser and kinda assholey at the beginning ☆ warning(s)? this is very silly!! minor violence (toward animals) ☆ word count: 15.8k ☆ this isn't my usual writing style, or even my usual progression of events, but i was rlly inspired by those old shoujo animes so i tried to emulate certain features common in that genre! lmk what u think! btw it's not edited, i will go back and edit later but rn i'm j tired lol enjoy!

There were two things that Jungwon Yang hated:

Troublemakers, and teachers that talked too much.

Unfortunately, he was now sitting in a room with both types of people.

"You know why you're here right, [Name]?" 

[Name] [Last Name]. You were the class’s relentless troublemaker. He’d known you since elementary and middle school, and you’ve always been the same. Brusque, aggressive, and a little too happy to use your fists.

Jungwon and you were in the same year, and he was the class president. Currently, the class advisor, Jungwon, and you were seated in your shared homeroom class after school. 

Simply put, you've been causing trouble for the past few weeks, whether it be arguing with teachers or other classmates. Initially, the class advisor decided that although you were causing trouble, it was barely disruptive. 

Until today. When you punched a classmate, a guy named Jiho Jang, in the face.

You leaned back in your chair, rolling your eyes. Your gaze hardened, before you let out a sigh. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

As Class President, it was Jungwon's job to collaborate with the class advisor to enforce school rules and punish those that failed to adhere to them. His lips curled at your sheer lack of regard for anything around you. It was annoying how you broke every rule in the book, prancing around like you owned the place. Why was it so difficult to just not cause trouble?

"Jungwon, what do you think?"

"Ahem," he cleared his throat, "I think [Name] broke a rule—" you cocked a brow at him, but he ignored you, "By assaulting another student, she should be punished for it, shouldn't she?"

Being the Class President, Jungwon had learned to be well-spoken and level-headed, but sometimes, it was utterly difficult to keep a diplomatic attitude. Because although he disliked people that caused trouble, he disliked teachers that talked a lot just as much.

The class advisor went on talking for a few more minutes, using many words but truly saying nothing. Jungwon learned how to make it look like he was listening when he really wasn't, nodding his head and smiling mindlessly. 

God, just shut up, he wanted to blurt, but he caught himself.

Meanwhile, you clearly did not give a fuck. You looked at your nails, yawned, rolled your eyes, put your feet on the table. You even let out a very loud exasperated sigh. It was almost laughable the way you didn’t care, to the point that Jungwon almost caught himself letting out a laugh at your clear and abject expressiveness.

"Well, Jungwon, as class president," the advisor finally finished her long and drawn-out speech about school rules, "What do you think [Name]'s punishment should be?"

"Punishment?" It wasn't like Jungwon didn't punish people for breaking rules, but for him to punish someone directly felt so foreign to him. "Well, [Name] explained that she did what she did today in defense of another student, and there's evidence to back her up." Jungwon glanced at you, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. "So, I think we should give her lunch detention for a week."

Jungwon disliked you. No, he disliked your behavior. But as the President, he was fair. You had thorough evidence to back you up, so he decided on a punishment that reflected on your circumstances.

Except, the advisor audibly reacted. "Ooh, I don't know about that."

Jungwon's brows furrowed. That was a more than reasonable punishment. "Why not?"

"None of the teachers are available to sit in for lunch detention this or next week," the advisor explained. "What about suspension for a week?"

Suspension wasn't even remotely similar to lunch detention! 

"No!" Jungwon blurted. When he realized his outburst, Jungwon felt his ears burn. He cleared his throat. "I mean, I feel like a suspension is too extreme of a punishment."

His eyes flickered over to you. 

You better thank me, he thought.

 "If it's possible, I don't mind administrating lunch detention this week and next week, since none of the teachers are available."

The class advisor stayed silent for a few moments, before collecting her papers in a neat stack, and shoving it into her desk. "Very well, then." She turned to you. "[Name], you will have lunch detention starting tomorrow. Jungwon will be administrating it."

Then, you were dismissed. Jungwon had to stay back for a few minutes to discuss other class plans with the advisor, before leaving himself. By the time Jungwon walked out of the school building, the sun was beginning to set. However, as he walked out into the school courtyard, he spotted you.

You stood alone under a plum blossom tree. The pink-yellow flowers, now beginning to blossom as winter flew by, were sprawled across the ground, and your shoes, covered in dirt from the early-spring rain, trampled all over them with little regard. As you always did.

And, before he knew it, Jungwon was walking toward you.

It was common courtesy, at least for him, to greet whoever he saw.

"[Name]!" he called out, lips moving faster than his mind. Your head whipped over to him, quirking a brow. 

"Hi?" you looked at him with suspicion.

He couldn't blame you. Jungwon and you were on completely different spectrums of the school social hierarchy. Jungwon was well-known with a clean reputation, and you were infamous at least and a delinquent at most. It wasn't like he had never interacted with you before, but those interactions were few and far between. 

"... Did you need something?" You almost looked irritated that he was talking to you. Were you incapable of at least pretending like you cared?

"I just, " Jungwon had to admit, your gaze was intimidating. He’d heard rumors of you beating up kids that tried to talk to you, and although they were a little ridiculous, Jungwon wanted to be cautious. But, when words came to mind, his wobbly lips formed a soft, forced, smile. "I just wanted to say, I thought it was cool that you punched Jiho today."

When you only stared at him incredulously, Jungwon continued.

"Like,  It was cool that you were trying to defend someone, and I thought that Jiho really deserved it," Jungwon added. "I'm sorry about the detention thing."

He was being partially truthful. Of course, Jiho had it coming. Anyone that picked on underclassmen were just shitty, but cool to use violence against him? Maybe not. It was the first word that came to his mind.

A few silent pulses passed, and Jungwon shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

"Thanks?" you said slowly, your expression painted with confusion— because why was the Class President praising you for assaulting someone? "Um, I don't think you need to apologize."

Jungwon nodded, his fake smile still painted across his cheeks, ready to spill more courteous words at you.

"You were just doing your job— Hey, are you okay?"

A sudden fuzzy feeling at the back of Jungwon’s head pierced through him. Almost like a switch had turned off inside him, Jungwon was suddenly wobbly on his feet, his eyes looking cloudy and dazed, rolling back in his head. 

"Hey, Jungwon—" you grabbed his arm to hold him upright, your brows crashing together. "Jungwon, are you okay?"

Jungwon's knees felt weak, his head full of static. When his eyes caught a glimpse of the sky, it was a dark, gray-blue mixed with orange.

Shit, he should have kept track of the time. For someone who prided himself for how responsible he was, Jungwon had to admit that he was a little stupid right now. As Jungwon slowly slipped out of consciousness, his mind raced. No, no, no. He did not want this to happen right now, not in front of you.

You freaked out, frantically holding onto him. Why was Jungwon Yang practically fainting on you?

All of a sudden, a big puff of smoke appeared. As you coughed, using your hand to wave away the smoke, you noticed that Jungwon's shoulders were no longer in his hands. In fact, his entire person disappeared from in front of you.

When the smoke cleared, Jungwon was no longer with you. Instead, there was just a pile of his clothes before your feet.

"Jungwon?" you asked, bewildered out of your mind. "Hey, Jungwon, what the fuck just"

Meow!

Did something just meow-

Meeeeowwww!

From under the pile of clothes, a small, black cat poked its head out. Your jaw dropped, panic overtaking your system.

The cat let out another meow, before it began inching toward you. Out of sheer panic, you took many steps back, letting out a small yelp of fear.

"Stay back, cat!" you cried.

Meeeeowwww! the cat meowed at you, only inching closer to you. Each step it took toward you, you stepped back, until your back was pressed against the tree. 

Who could blame you? Jungwon Yang just disappeared into thin air before your eyes, only to leave a cat! How could you not be afraid of that cat?

However, instead of killing you (or whatever you thought would happen if the cat got too close), the cat only pawed at your shoe. It let out another meow, but this time a much softer one. It continued to paw at your shoe, meowing profusely like it was trying to tell you something.

You watched it in disbelief.

You've seen many cats before, it wasn't like seeing a cat was some rarity to you. Just... where the hell did Jungwon go?

Experimentally, you reached out to touch the cat, only for it to jump away from you. You blinked at it. You and the cat stared at each other for a few moments, before it seemed to let out a small huff and stepped toward you. You reached out to it again, and this time, it didn’t jump away. You picked up the cat, holding up to your face so that it was at eye-level.

"Hey, kitty," you gently said, a small frown painting itself on your lips. You pet its soft, black fur, your fingers gracing its ears. Looking around, you bring the cat closer to your face. "Do you know where Jungwon went?"

Meow! was all you got in response, making you frown even more. You gently rubbed your thumb over its nose and soft, black fur.

"Did you take him, kitty?" you wondered, more to yourself than anything. When the cat only meowed, you couldn't help but crack a grin. You booped its nose, before cradling it in your arms. 

You glanced at the pile of Jungwon's clothes a few inches away from you. You looked around, for any sign of him or anyone at all, before sighing to yourself. You crouched down, placing the cat down, too. You neatly folded the pile of clothes, tucking it under your arm. You picked up the cat once more, scanned the courtyard, and started your way home.

Despite what a lot of people liked to think, you were actually gentle. But only sometimes. 

There were some perks to living alone, hundreds of miles away from your family. One of them was that you could bring home whatever animal you wanted, and no one could stop you.

On your way home from school, you decided that you'd keep the cat, whom you named Kong-ee (since its nose looked like a bean). How could you not? It was so tiny, and soft, and cute. Every time you rubbed its cheek, it let out a small meow. When you kissed it on the head, it started meowing profusely. It was so adorable!

If anyone at school saw you right now, they'd think they were dreaming.

You, that one mean and rough girl, playing with a little cat? You, not screaming and fighting every three seconds? Impossible!

You cracked a grin to yourself as you thought about the events that transpired earlier. Jiho Jang was picking on some underclassman, so you gave him a little nudge. When that didn't work, you punched him square in the nose. As you unlocked the door to your apartment, you thought back to how the school administrators reacted. For some reason, it felt like they favored Jiho over you, seeming to take his side before you even explained yourself.

You placed the cat down on your bed. 

"Stay here, okay, kitty?" you gently pet Kong-ee. The cat stared at you with its large, feline eyes, and you laughed, kissing its cheek. The high-pitched meow it let out was cute, so you booped its nose again. "I'm gonna go run you a bath, 'kay?"

As you set your things down to run the bath, you suddenly remembered your Class President, Jungwon Yang.

It seemed like among everyone involved in the situation, he was the only one that was fair. You appreciated him reiterating that fact that you were, in fact, acting in defense of another student, and you could tell that he was trying to give you a gentler punishment. However, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that he disliked you. He had this weird attitude, one where he seemed to think of himself as superior to you. You could tell that he didn’t like you, probably because of your ‘troublemaker’ reputation.

Come to think of it, have you ever spoken to him? Sure, you went to the same elementary and middle school as him, but you swore that you've never really spoken to him. You still had no idea what happened to him earlier. He just randomly disappeared from the face of the earth. You still had his clothes, which you threw into the washing machine. 

You didn't think of him any more for the rest of the night.

"Kong-ee," you cooed as you poured warm water over the cat's head. For a cat, Kong-ee was very calm in water. You muttered to yourself, "So cute,"

After drying Kong-ee, you went to eat dinner, study, and at last, go to bed. 

You didn't have a bed for Kong-ee, and you didn't move a lot when you slept, so you just let the little cat lay on your chest. The warmth of the cat was like an extra blanket anyway.

Your eyes felt heavy, so you were fast asleep just minutes after your head hit the pillow.

Jungwon thought he was a pretty smart guy.

But right now, he was absolutely stupid.

He completely didn't take into account the fact that during winter, nighttime came much quicker. He was so distracted by school duties that he totally forgot his curse.

That's right. Curse.

About a week ago, Jungwon was hit with some curse, where every day, the moment that the sun began to set, he would transform into a cat. He'd only turn back to human when the sun rose the next morning. These past few days, Jungwon had been leveeing excuse after excuse about why he couldn't attend a certain event, or why his homework was done so quickly.

Yesterday, even when he should have been running home because he was literally about to transform into a cat, he decided to go talk to you instead. 

And now there he was, still in his cat form, laying on you, that one girl from class that couldn’t follow a rule to save her life.

As a cat last night, he decided that he’d escape out your window the moment you fell asleep. However, your apartment was many stories high, and he couldn’t fight off his feline instinct to snuggle up into something warm. So there he was, laying next to your sleeping face.

In his cat form, Jungwon could see your alarm clock. These days, sunrise was around 7AM, and it was 6:57. Just a few more minutes, and he should transform back into human. Hopefully, he won't wake you up.

Jungwon's plan was the moment that he transformed back into his human form, he would take his clothes (the one that you picked up and washed yesterday), and leave. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you. Hopefully, you’d forget all about this, and his life would resume.

Meanwhile, Jungwon observed your sleeping face. It was weird. You usually had a scowl on your face, but your sleeping face was completely peaceful. He’d never seen you so… calm. In fact, last night was probably the most normal he’d ever seen you. Jungwon always kind of expected you to be rough with everything, but the way you treated him as a cat was almost… kind of nice? 

With his paw, Jungwon gently touched your face, a small meow escaping his mouth. Your lunch detention started today, so he’d have to spend his next few lunches stuck in a room with you. He dreaded it. He had other things he wanted to do, even though he was the one to suggest that he administrated–

Poof!

With a puff of smoke, Jungwon transformed back into his human form. Except, he was now naked, sprawled on top of you. 

Quickly, though with wobbly feet, he stumbled over to the clean folded stack of his clothes. 

Just as he was finished putting on his pants, reaching for his shirt, Jungwon heard a shrill scream.

He whipped his head around to see you, staring at him horrified.

Oh.

Shit.

The last thing you expected was to wake up to a shirtless Jungwon Yang in your room. 

"What the fuck are you—" you, still groggy, pulled your comforter over your shoulders, suddenly feeling exposed— "Jungwon, what the fuck? What are you doing here?!"

The boy only stared at you with eyes as wide as saucers, jaw dropped. It was only when you began throwing pillows and plushies at him that he began to get defensive.

"W-Wait, [Name]!" he staggered over to you, amidst the slew of pillows being projected at him. "[Name], let me explai— Ow!"

"Get out, Jungwon!" you shouted, hurling nearly every object on your bed at him. Simply for the reason that your Class President was literally half naked in your room, your face felt warm. With anger. "Get out, get out, get out— Oof!"

Behold, Jungwon tripped over one of the pillows as he floundered over to you, leading him to fall right on top of you on your bed.

A moment of thick silence engulfed your bedroom as the two of you stared at each other. Jungwon's cheeks flared. It was absolutely over for him now. 

With a rough, but flighty, hand, you pushed his chest off of you with a scowl. 

"Get off," you grumbled, shoving him again.

"Right..." Jungwon quickly pulled away from you. He sat at the edge of your bed, his head hanging low. His entire neck and face were red with embarrassment and shame. You probably thought he was a creep, a pervert, a weirdo! Would you tell people at school? He could already hear the rumors: “Class President Jungwon Yang is a freak!” 

"Well, aren't you going to explain yourself?" you nudged him harshly with your foot. You still covered yourself with your blanket, looking at him with the most hostility that he'd ever seen from you.

"Wait a minute," you muttered to yourself. You shifted around your bed, feeling around your comforter. "Where's Kong-ee?"

Jungwon let out a nervous laugh. 

"About that...."

(Long story short, you grabbed Jungwon by his shoulders, and said, "You're lucky that you were cute as a cat, because I was considering kicking your ass.")

Honestly, you thought Jungwon was a little weird, if not snobby. If you were asked how you felt about him a few hours ago, you would have said that he was a little self-important. But after the fiasco this morning, the only word you had to properly describe him was strange.

You supposed that you couldn't blame him. He didn't choose to be cursed into a cat, and he most definitely didn't choose for you to take him home. It was just a little embarrassing that the entire time, the cute cat that you were excited to take care of was just your Class President that probably hated you. It made you squirm a little bit.

After Jungwon gave you a (very thorough and evidence-based) explanation, you kicked him out and got ready for school as you always did.

When you got to school, you couldn't bring yourself to meet Jungwon's gaze, and luckily, it seemed like he couldn't either. You weren't shy, and you weren't the type to get actually flustered, but you felt a twinge of humiliation. 

Why, of all people, did it have to be the guy that you were spending your lunch detention with?

In fact, as you sat in lunch detention, there was a thick tension in the air. It was just you and Jungwon in an empty classroom, completely silent save for the sound of chattering and people talking from the other rooms down the hall. 

You were supposed to be doing homework, or something, but you preferred staring out the window. Meanwhile, from the corner of your eye, you noticed Jungwon sitting at the teacher desk, writing something out.

Minutes passed and you were getting bored. Normally, you were perfectly fine with getting lost in that head of yours, but for some reason, today all your thoughts were just... stale.

"Yah," you suddenly said, directed at Jungwon. The boy's head immediately shot up. "What are you doing right now?"

"Writing..." he answered curtly. His expression was awkward, very different from his usual composed face, the one that he used when he ordered people around. You tried not to show your discomfort on your face, but Jungwon was just an open book. 

"I'm bored."

He blinked at you owlishly, before narrowing his eyes. "Well, do you want a book?"

You groaned, leaning back against your chair and throwing your head back. If this was how lunch detention was going to be for the rest of the week, you'd die.

Jungwon watched you silently. He let out a sigh, before setting his pen down. He picked up the papers that he was just writing on, holding it up to his face so that he could read it. 

"Jungwoo and Sullyoon." You shot him a questioning look, and he continued. "Liz and Minji."

"What the hell are you saying?" you questioned.

Jungwon held up the papers; on them were elaborate charts with many columns. It was a list of some sort.

"It's the beginning of the month," Jungwon began. "I have to make a schedule for who's on cleaning duty."

You cocked a brow at him, making him continue.

"I might be the president, but I don't know a lot of our classmates well," the boy's feline-like eyes fluttered over to you. "I'm having trouble making the pairs. I don't know who gets along with who."

He stared at you for a few pulses, almost like he was asking you to help him. You finally huffed, rolling your eyes. You pulled a chair over to where Jungwon was sitting, plopping down. This was better than doing homework.

"All right then," you snatched the paper. You scanned the list, your nose crinkling at some of Jungwon's choices. "Why would you put Bae with Aran?"

Jungwon’s brows crashed together, just by the way you seemed so indignant about his choices. 

"I don't know," Jungwon shrugged, unable to hide the slight offense on his face. "I thought they were friends."

"Nah," you sucked in a sharp, exasperated breath. "Bae was trying to get with Aran's boyfriend, so Bae and her friends jumped her."

The way it came out so casually from your lips was almost laughable.

"Ouch."

"And why would you put Jihan and Rei together?"

"Why, are they not friends?"

"No, because Rei is friends with Liz, and Jihan hates Liz."

"Well, what about Rei and Hikaru?"

You groaned, punching Jungwon in the arm. "I'm actually gonna kick your ass."

Out of nowhere, completely out of character, Jungwon couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips. There was something so laughable about you, of all people, knowing the business of your classmates, and not him, the literal president. It was almost ironic, the way you seemed to be so passionate about the ongoings of the classroom. He immediately clamped his hand over his mouth the moment you shot him a glare, but he was unable to swallow another laugh. 

"Yah, laugh again and I'll actually do it."

Jungwon let out another laugh. You grabbed his forearm, softly punching his shoulder again. The way your lips jutted out, the gloss on them shining under the light, was too much for Jungwon to handle. For someone so tough and violent, you looked so petulant, almost like a child, when you were angry. Your brows furrowing like caterpillars and the way your lips parted in offense was his favorite part.

You stood up abruptly, grabbing Jungwon's collar and pulling him up with you. Your lips pulled together in what could only be called a frown.

"You're so annoying," you grumbled, tightening your grip around his collar. "Kill yourself."

Jungwon's lips pulled upward to reveal his sharp canine teeth. 

"Sorry," he said with a smile. It was weird, the way that it was a genuine smile, as opposed to the fake one that he found himself giving out.

You rolled your eyes for the nth time that day, but you loosened your hold on his collar. When he let out another small laugh again, you raised your fist at him. It was supposed to be purely threatening, you weren't actually going to punch him. And Jungwon could tell, just by the look on your face.

But that was when the worst possible person walked into the detention room: the class advisor.

"[Name] [Last Name], are you trying to assault the Class President?!"

And that's how you got after school detention, too. Administrated by the one and only Class President himself.

"Look, [Name], I'm sorry—"

"It's whatever."

And it really was whatever.

No matter how many times Jungwon explained with the advisor and administrators, they all wouldn’t believe them. He clarified seemingly hundreds of times that you, in fact, were not trying to beat him up. Still, they wouldn’t listen. Because he was the president, they simply assumed that Jungwon was defending you to not cause trouble.

You appreciated his efforts, you really did. The way his face scrunched with frustration as he let out a deep, exasperated sigh was enough for you.

“It isn’t whatever,” Jungwon ran a hand through his dark locks, huffing. “It’s unfair.”

Now the two of you were back in that detention room. You were sitting down, bored, while Jungwon paced around. He couldn’t say that he liked you, but he couldn’t stand for something so utterly ridiculous.

"It's not a big deal," you seemed more unbothered than Jungwon was. When he looked at you with a pinched expression, you sighed. "I really mean it, it's not a big deal."

Jungwon chewed on his bottom lip pensively. "But they're not being fair."

You shrugged. "This isn't the first time that it's happened, you know."

When the boy frowned, you continued. "Sometimes, the administrative system is kinda fucked. It's just something we hafta accept."

Jungwon's nose scrunched, before he made his way over to where you were sitting. He stood at the edge of your desk before you, his fingers tapping anxiously. He studied your face: your expression was painted with sincere and utter indifference. You didn't care. But he did.

"I'm serious," you noticed the uneasiness on his face. "Just let it go, Jungwon."

"It's just..." he breathed, "I'm the President, aren't I supposed to be the one with a louder voice? Why won't they listen to me?"

You gazed at his face.

Jungwon Yang, the Class President. He’d always seemed snobby, but he was surprisingly earnest. There was an essence of naivete in him, a sort of innocence and optimism that you couldn't shake off. Jungwon was almost intense with the amount of conviction he had. 

"Well," you finally said. Under the desk, you tapped your shoe against his. "We can't do anything about it now."

You brusquely got up, moving toward the teacher desk.

"B-But—"

You plopped down on the teacher chair, kicking back. "Are you going to let me help you with your presidential duties or what? I’m bored."

You looked at him, dead serious. You gestured to the papers sprawled across the desk. 'Well, aren't you going to join me?'your expression read.

Jungwon finally exhaled.

He couldn't argue with you.

Because like him, your conviction was just as strong. You were realistic, too realistic that it was almost painful. But the intensity in your judgment was not to be challenged.

"Fine."

You never expected Jungwon's presidential duties to be so tedious. But what was surprisingly unsurprising was Jungwon's crazy amount of effort. Of course he put every ounce of his energy into perfecting the class calendar or the class seating arrangements. Although you did help him, there were a few moments of complete silence, as Jungwon sat in deep thought trying to figure out how to approach a certain issue. His zeal was almost freakish.

You let out a yawn. "Hey, what time is it?"

"Time?" Jungwon perked up, glancing out the window. Shit. It should be sunset soon. Why does he keep losing track of the time? He began shuffling his papers together, shoving them into his school bag. "Shiiiit, I have to go now."

"Man, I feel like I've never heard you swear—" Realization hit you. "Oh, right."

You helped him put his things away, but it was too late. Within seconds, a puff of smoke already engulfed the room, leaving a pile of clothes, and a tiny black cat.

You groaned. Not again.

"You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You decided that you'd take Jungwon home with you once again. As you laid on your back in your bed, you held his cat form up carefully, yet your words were harsh.

"God, you're so stupid, Jungwon," you scolded him. "Does this happen a lot? Where you don't keep track of time and just transform out of nowhere?"

Jungwon let out a small meow, hanging his furry head in shame. 

"Ughhh," you lamented. You gave the top of his head a small tap, equivalent to you hitting the back of his head if he was a human. "Do your parents know?"

Jungwon responded back with a bunch of meows, like he was trying to talk to you. 

"Whatever," you tapped his nose with your knuckle. Normally, you’d probably recoil at the thought of being this close to your Class President, but because he was a cat, you couldn’t help the desire to smother him with love. You held Jungwon's face close to yours. You rubbed your nose against his, cooing at the small meows he let out. You chuckled. "You're so much cuter as a cat, you know that right?"

Jungwon meowed, his short paws extending out to touch your face. You grinned, leaning into his touch. "You're so annoying at school. So annoying that I thought about punching you once. But I like you more as a cat."

Meeooowww!

"Have you eaten yet?" you brushed his fur back, rubbing the spot behind his ears, earning a purrrr. Jungwon shook his head. Then, you scratched his chin. "Can you even eat human food?" Jungwon shook his head again.

"Fine," you muttered, more to yourself. "I'll go buy you cat food."

The walk to the convenience store was quiet, save for your coos at Jungwon. On Jungwon's end, he was ecstatic. Each time you kissed his head or babbled back in response to his little meows, Jungwon couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment. It was weird, so weird, to see you be so… gentle, and loving, and caring. It was like a flip switched the moment you stepped out of school. Weren’t you supposed to be a delinquent? Why were you so tender? He hated it, he hated it so much. But now you were peppering his face with kisses, and Jungwon couldn’t resist leaning into your warm touch.

"Which one do you want, Jungwon?" You took him through the aisles, letting his small, black paws dictate what you'd buy. 

"Are you serious? Salmon Gravy Poultry shreds?"

Jungwon meowed profusely, his paws flailing around almost offended. He couldn't control his feline cravings in his cat form! What did you expect him to choose, a Triple Dipple Mcdouble Wouble Hamburger?

You threw your head back, laughing at his cute frustration. You pinched Jungwon's nose, before going to the cash register.

That night, you sat with Jungwon wrapped in a blanket on your lap.

"You can still help me with my homework, right?" you said, petting Jungwon. 

Meoooowww! was his response (as always), but the way his feline eyes squeezes into thin crescents, his mouth turning upwards, told you his answer was a very enthusiastic "Yes!"

You and Jungwon came up with a system.

One meow was yes, two meows were no.

It was safe to say that Jungwon let out many double meows in succession.

"Maybe I was wrong," you grasped his little paws like they were his hands. "You're still annoying as a cat."

Meow!

You giggled, before turning off your lights. 

You gave Jungwon his own bed— a stack of pillows and blankets. You didn't want another incident, did you?

Oh. My. God.

It was past 7AM. The sun was up in the sky shining its yellow face so obnoxiously through the blinds.

However.

Jungwon was still a cat.

For the past week or so, he turned back into his human form the second the sun peeked through the clouds. But why not today? He had to figure this out before you woke up, or you might freak out, and that would make him freak out—

"Oh my god, Jungwon, why are you still a cat?!"

Long story short, you took him to school with you.

If Jungwon was a human, he would have refused profusely. Curse him and his tiny body, he had no way of refusing you.

And that's how Jungwon found himself stuffed in your pocket.

"Stop fussing!" you gently smacked the back of his head. "You're gonna get us caught!"

Meeowww! was all he could say. It was strange seeing the school through such a tiny lens. It didn't help that he felt like he was on a goddamn rollercoaster because for some reason, you decided to walk with a pep in your step today. 

"Where's Jungwon? He's normally not late like this," Wonyoung Jang, the class's secretary asked just as you walked in. After a round of "I don't know's" it seemed like everyone suddenly remembered what (allegedly) happened yesterday: you assaulted him.

"Hey, [Name], did you do something to him?" someone asked. You shot them a questioning look. You ignored them, taking your seat in the back, being careful to not crush Jungwon. 

"Yah, [Name]," one of the boys in your class (was his name Haruto, or something?) came up to your desk, slamming his hands down on your desk. "What did you do to Jungwon?"

You looked around the classroom— they had to be playing with you, right? Such a ridiculous accusation based on ridiculous evidence from the most ridiculous people.

"Uh. I didn't do anything...?" you answered sincerely, confusion strewn across your face.

"Hey, let's not lie, [Name]," Jinni, the class treasurer, smiled at you. "Just tell us the truth. What happened to Jungwon?"

"I don't know," you shrugged. 

"You were the last person to see him yesterday," one of your classmates pointed out. "Something's fishy."

"Well, I don't know what you guys want me to say," you scowled. "I'm sorry, I guess? It's not really my business what goes on with him."

Before another person could join in, and most definitely escalate the situation, the bell rang, starting class.

Meanwhile, Jungwon internally frowned. Why was everyone so quick to accuse you? Sure, you got into scuffles, but they were being baseless with their accusations. All you did was walk in, and you were bombarded with questions. While class went on, he let out a soft meow, using his paw to touch your hand.

"Jungwon, what do you want?" you whisper-yelled at him.

Jungwon couldn't imagine what it would be like to have everyone see you with suspicion. When the teachers didn't believe him earlier, it was frustrating. He never considered how you felt. Your quick resignation to the flawed administrative system was upsetting.

Almost like he was trying to comfort you, another small meow came from him, his paw petting your hand.

You smiled gently, bonking him softly on the head, before turning back to the board.

As the day went by, Jungwon caught a real glimpse of what it was like to live like you.

From the pocket of your sweater, he could see the nasty glares that people sent you, simply for being in the same room as them. The way that people would scurry away from you, cower under your gaze like you were some kind of monster. Jungwon didn't know how anyone could endure that for much of their high school career. The more he watched you from your pocket, the more he could see your hard exterior cracking. You were genuine in that you didn't like people that much, but he could tell by the way that your lips twitched slightly, eyebrows knitting together for a split second as you wistfully watched groups of friends giggle together. 

As lunchtime started, you slowly made your way to the detention room. That entire hall was mostly empty, probably because no one wanted to be near where you'd be. 

You reached inside your pocket, your knuckle brushing against Jungwon's ears.

"Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I wish you were human right now," you said quietly to him. Jungwon meowed, rubbing his cheek against your finger. "I’m gonna be so bored."

As you cracked the detention room door open, you were met with a group of boys.

Of course you knew them. Everyone liked to lump you in with them, as "bangers," but anyone that understood who they were knew that you were far from their friend.

While you just caused trouble occasionally, they were actual delinquents.

"Hey there, [Name]," one of them grinned at you. You stopped at the doorway, narrowing your eyes at them. They never talked to you unless they wanted trouble.

"What do you want, Gyuvin?" you huffed. Jungwon from your pocket peeked his head out.

"We don't want anything from you, [Name]," another of them, Ricky Shen, took a step forward toward you. The rest of the boys followed suit, pulling you into the classroom and surrounding you.

You dug your teeth into your bottom lip. The way they were circling you certainly triggered your panic mode, but you swallowed it down, choosing to keep a hardened gaze instead. 

"Right," you nodded slowly. 

The next thing you knew, you were pushed to the ground with a yelp and thump! The way that the rest of them peered down at you condescendingly. You heard a small meow come from your pocket, so your hand shot to your pocket, your palm protectively cradling Jungwon.

"We're just bored, really," Gyuvin smiled, leaning down toward you. "Just wanted to see if this kitty bit back."

Silence enveloped the room as you glared up at them. You had to think fast. You honestly did not have the energy to put up a good fight right now, and you didn't want to. How could you evade this?

Your eyes shot around the room for some sort of escape. Unfortunately, there was only one: the door, and it was blocked by a few of the boys.

"Oh? What's that in your pocket?" It seemed like they noticed your hand clutching your pocket so firmly.

They yanked you up roughly by the arm, shoving their grubby hands into your pocket while others held your arms back.

"Hey!" you yelped, struggling against their grip. They're gonna find Jungwon!

Your worst fear came true. Gyuvin pulled out a thrashing Jungwon from your pocket. Even in his feline form, you could see the panic in his eyes. You tried to escape their grip, pulling away as hard as you could, but they overpowered you.

"What's this?" Gyuvin asked, a nasty grin on his face as he observed Jungwon.

"Give him back," you grumbled behind gritted teeth. You tried to pull away again, but it was no use. Gyuvin cocked a brow at you, before throwing Jungwon on the floor. Jungwon let out a small meow of pain, but as the boys approached him, he hissed loudly, his pupils dilated and his black fur standing up on his back. 

Ricky glanced at you, making sure that you were watching, when he landed a kick at Jungwon. 

"Jungwon!" you shouted, straining against the boys that held you back. 

"Fuck," you muttered to yourself. You didn't want to fight. Jesus Christ, the last thing you wanted to do right now was fight. But you could not stand for this. 

"Jungwon?" A smile was growing on Ricky's features. "Y'know, [Name], I thought that you murdered Mr. Class President or something. But it looks like you're obsessed with him more than anything."

Your hands balled into fists, biting your lip so hard that you could taste blood.

Assholes. That's what they all were.

It was Ricky's turn to land a kick on Jungwon.

That's when you had enough.

With all the force you could muster in your body, you stepped on the guys who held your foot. You didn't know how hard it was, but it was hard enough for them to loosen their grips on you, letting out cries. Your body was on overdrive now. The only thing you focused on was getting the fuck out of there.

"Yah, get her!"

You dashed to Jungwon, snatching him up and jamming him into your pocket. You flung the door open, but Ricky and Gyuvin grabbed both of your hands before you could make a run for it. Ricky pulled you in by the waist, so that you were flush against his chest, while Gyuvin pressed against you from the front.

"Let go of me," you protested. 

"Nuh-uh," Ricky whispered in your ear. 

"Why're you so resistant to us, [Name]?" Gyuvin rasped. "We just wanna be your friend."

Meanwhile, Jungwon, although injured, creeped out from your pocket. With them so close to you, it would be awfully easy for Jungwon to land a few claws on them. It wouldn't hurt to give them a few scratches, right?

With a loud hiss, Jungwon jumped out from your pocket, landing on Ricky's chest. With all the might that his small body could gather, Jungwon scratched the boy's chest with high-pitched shrieks. Almost immediately, Ricky stumbled backward, letting go of you. You took that opportunity to land the hardest kick you could to Gyuvin's crotch. Then, you plucked Jungwon up, and made a run for it.

You ran until you reached the girl's bathroom of the south building, far enough from Ricky and Gyuvin and their little henchmen. You took in shallow breaths, staggering into the bathroom. You held onto Jungwon tightly.

Finally, you dropped down to your knees, slumping against the wall. With a hiss, you observed the bruises on your wrists, where the boys had held you.

You took off your sweater, gently placing Jungwon on it.

He nuzzled his face against your leg, purring when you pet his head.

"Hey, Jungwon," your voice was quiet, the quietest that he'd ever heard. "You okay?"

Meow!

Your nimble fingers ran against his fur, and when you ended up on his side, Jungwon hissed. Upon closer inspection, that part of his abdomen was bruised from the earlier assault.

"I'm sorry, baby," you unconsciously used that name, your heart hurting for him. It must be horrible being so small and helpless. You tenderly caressed his face, with him leaning into your touch. "Does it hurt?"

Jungwon nodded. Although all the energy was sucked out of you from that scuffle alone, you jumped to your feet.

"The nurse's office is just down the hall," you said to him. "I'll go get some things, okay?"

Jungwon meowed to you as you left.

He'd never actually seen you fight anyone.

Were you harassed like this often? Was that why you were reported to be fighting people, when you were really just defending yourself? Why did people want to bother you so badly?

The pain in Jungwon's side was bearable, but the way you were so quick to get help was so admirable. 

In fact, all this time that he spent with you, you never looked to fight people. Instead, you were actually so eager to be helpful. How did you become known as the class's troublemaker when you actively avoided trouble? All you’ve been so far was kind to him.

Was he wrong about you?

Just as Jungwon was about to go on pondering...

Poof!

Jungwon coughed, and suddenly, he was human again.

But, like always, naked.

He scurried into one of the stalls, shutting and locking the door.

"Jungwon?" you wandered back into the bathroom, unable to spot a little black cat. "Jungwon, where'd you go?"

When a deeper, masculine voice responded, you almost jumped out of your skin. "I'm... in the stalls."

"You turned back?!"

Jungwon felt his cheeks warm up. How was he going to explain this to you?

"Why are you in the stalls?"

Jungwon cleared his throat awkwardly, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm... uh.. naked right now."

.

.

.

"Oh."

"C-Can you please go get me clothes?"

When you came back with a set of male school uniform (that you stole from some kid's locker), you threw it over the stall door, a little flustered.

Jungwon finally came out of the stalls, an awkward expression on his face.

"Did the clothes fit right?" you asked. Granted, you thought you stole from the underclassmen, so the clothes you got him might be too small. "Are they too small?"

"No," Jungwon quickly answered. "They... They fit just fine."

He stared at you. "Thanks, by the way."

You blinked at him. "For what?"

"For everything you did for me back there," Jungwon took a deep breath. He still couldn't wrap his head around how your status as the class delinquent came to be. "You were really cool."

"Cool?" You raised a brow at him, but you couldn't hide the curve in your lips. "I thought it was pretty cool how you scratched Ricky."

Jungwon snorted. "That's nothing compared to the last-minute kick to Gyuvin's crotch."

You laughed, but clamped your hand over your mouth. 

"Sorry," you murmured.

"I mean it," Jungwon was looking at you with wide eyes. He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip. "It was, like, straight out of a comic book."

"Right," you nodded slowly, the corners of your lips quirking up. You perched down next to him, pulling the first-aid kit you nicked from the nurse's office. You didn't know how Jungwon's cat-human curse translated injuries. That is, you didn't know if he'd have the same injuries he sustained as a cat in his human form. "D'you mind lifting up your shirt for me?"

Lift... up... his... shirt... for... you?

Jungwon choked on his spit, coughs spouting from his throat. As he coughed up a storm, a sharp pain in his abdomen pierced through him. He clutched his side, letting out a soft groan of pain.

"Shit," your fingers reached for the hem of his shirt, "You're bruised there, aren't you?"

You began to flip up his shirt to get a better look of his wound, but Jungwon quickly stopped you.

"W-Wait!" his cheeks flared. You gave him a weird look. "How am I going to get married if you see me shirtless?!"

.

.

.

For the Class President, Jungwon Yang was a little dumb.

You gave his head a soft smack.

"You dumbass," you chided him. "I've already seen you shirtless."

Jungwon's eyes widened into saucers. You sighed, rubbing your temples.

"Remember when I woke up to you half naked the other day?"

Oh. Right.

"And you're not going to be tainted if I see you shirtless. Stop being a baby and just let me see your injury, you loser!" With flighty eyes and red ears, Jungwon let you pull up his shirt, your fingers gently brushing against the brownish-purple bruise beginning to form on his side. He let out another hiss of pain when you pressed on it. "Does that hurt?"

"Y-Yeah."

Carefully, with the roll of bandages, you wrapped his torso. Although it was completely normal to you, Jungwon felt weird as your arms circled his waist. He could almost feel your breath on his neck. He'd been close to you like this as a cat, but it just felt different when he was a human.

You then gave him an ice pack, instructing him to hold it against his side.

"You're good at this," he complimented. You were very knowledgeable on how to treat wounds. 

"Well, I get into a lot of fights, y'know?" You flashed him a toothy grin before treating your own bruises.

Jungwon's heart dropped to his stomach. That was... really sad.

"Wait!" he blurted, reaching out to clutch your arm as you wrapped your wrists. "Let me help you with that."

"Um, okay."

Jungwon wasn't nearly as experienced as you, and his bandaging job was very clumsy. But you appreciated the effort.

When you were done, the two of you sat in a short silence.

"What do you want to do now?" he asked you.

You thought for a few moments. "I think I'm gonna jump the fence and leave."

"Huh? Why?"

You shrugged. "I refuse to go back there after what happened. Plus, lunch already ended, and I don't feel like serving after school detention today."

You'd already made up your mind, beginning to collect your things.

Jungwon blinked.

For the first time ever, he, too, didn't want to go back. Jungwon had never skipped a class in his life, let alone jumped the fence. 

"Why are you staring at me like that?" you nudged him with your foot. He looked up at you; you were ready to leave.

Jungwon breathed. This might be one of the hardest decisions of his life.

"Can I come with you?"

"If you're going to be worried, you should probably go back."

Jungwon swallowed down hard. He'd never skipped class before, and even if he really wanted to, he couldn't ignore the anxiety bubbling inside him.

"I'm not worried,” he clenched his fists. 

"Right."

After jumping the fence, you and Jungwon were free.

"Where are we going now?"

"Home."

Jungwon felt like he'd come home with you so much the past few days, to the point that he nearly memorized the way there.

Except, as he entered the doorway, your entire apartment looked different.

"Why are you so surprised?" you switched on the lights. "You've been here many times already."

"I know, but," Jungwon scanned your kitchen and living room. "Nearly every time I've been here, I was an 8-inch tall cat."

You went into your bathroom silently, leaving Jungwon to walk about your apartment. He'd never really got a good look at it. He observed the picture collage on your fridge, of you and your parents and friends, smiling so brightly. The peach soda - scented candle on your counter seemed so out of character for you, but for some reason, it made so much sense. From the arrangement of the throw pillows on your couch, to the fuzzy rug, to the pile of mail sprawled on the coffee table, your apartment felt so you.

When you emerged from your bathroom, Jungwon did a once-over. He'd seen you in your pajamas before, but for some reason, when he saw you now in your cute polka-dotted fluffy pajamas, you almost looked... cute. Someone as brooding as you in such cutesy pajamas gave him whiplash.

"What are you staring at?"

"Nothing..." but Jungwon couldn't hide the way his lips curved upwards.

You yawned. "I'm gonna take a nap."

"Okay."

.

.

.

"Can I join you?"

Jungwon had expected you to throw him a pillow and blanket on the floor, similar to what you did with him as a cat. But you didn't.

You patted the spot next to you on your bed, looking at him expectantly.

And that's how Jungwon found himself laying next to you like a sardine.

He felt like a child the way his hands felt clammy, feeling a wave of anxiety with each movement you had. In his defense, he'd never slept in the same bed with a girl. In fact, he couldn't remember a time where he was as close to a girl as he was right now.

"If you're uncomfortable, you can-"

"No, I'm okay!"

He felt your eyes on him for a few moments, before you sighed. You jammed a pillow between the two of you, creating a border of some sort.

"Is that better?"

Jungwon didn't know why, but he felt a twinge of disappointment.

"... Yeah."

The next few minutes were full of silence. Jungwon laid still like a statue. From the corner of his eye, he could see you snuggling up with a plushie, almost kind of like how you snuggled up with him when he was a cat.

An unconscious frown spread itself on his cheeks. 

He.... also wanted to be snuggled like that. Was it weird that he craved that closeness to you? He reasoned to himself that he was just used to it, since he’d spent the majority of his time with you as a cat. 

In a moment of pure boldness, Jungwon snatched the pillow between you and him away, throwing it on the floor.

You sent him a confused look. "Hey there."

Jungwon's eyes were shaky, yet they trained on the plushie you had in your arms. Then he looked at your face, then back at the plushie, then back at your face.

"You need something, Jungwon?" you asked, almost concerned.

"I— Uhm," his eyes kept flickering from your face to the plushie. At a certain point, he was glued to the plushie, unable to hide the pout formed on his lips.

For someone who was good at pretending to smile, he wore his feelings on his face so clearly, you rolled your eyes.

"You're so annoying," you muttered under your breath. You chucked the plushie in your arms to the side. You then threw your arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. Jungwon let out a surprised yelp, but you ignored him. You wrapped your arms around his torso, careful not to touch his bruised abdomen. You pressed your cheek against his shoulder, the faint scent of his cologne filling your senses. "Is this better?"

Jungwon audibly gulped, but he eased into the feeling of your arms around him. "Y-Yeah..."

You were so close! He could smell the faint scent of your perfume, mixed with the scent of fresh laundry. You snuggled up against him, the sound of your soft breaths, which were slowing down into a steady rhythm, filling his ears. 

Jungwon took a deep breath, and melted into the warmth that was your arms. 

He wouldn’t mind doing this many more times, he thought. Would he?

And soon, he drifted off into dreamland, too.

Your eyes fluttered open a few hours later. Your bed was usually warm, but this time, it was very warm. So warm that you wanted to melt into it, completely and utterly disarmed by the comfort that you felt.

What time is it? was the first thing you thought.

The second thing you realized was that you could hear a heartbeat in your ears. Not your heartbeat, but the heartbeat of someone else. In fact, you were laying on someone's chest. 

Jungwon's chest.

There the two of you were, sprawled out on your bed. Jungwon gently held your head against his chest, his other arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders, while your arms wrapped around his torso. Your legs were tangled. You didn't remember falling asleep like this, but it wasn't like you minded the position. You simply sunk back into him, basking in the warmth.

But Jungwon did.

As his eyes shot open, he immediately noticed the current position you and him were in. You felt him tense under you, his arms beginning to curl back into himself. But the warmth that he provided as your personal human heater was just too good, so you grabbed his arms, putting them back into the position they were holding you in.

"It's cold, Jungwon," you muttered, snuggling up against him.

“[N-Name],” Jungwon’s voice came out soft. He’d just woken up mere minutes ago, yet he was wide awake. There was a weird pounding in his chest that he couldn’t explain, one that thrummed so loud that he could hear it in his ears. Your touch felt like burns on his skin, an unforgiving scalding boil, hot to the touch. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Why was he suddenly feeling this way? Was he ill? Was he going to transform into a cat?

“[Name],” Jungwon whispered again, a little louder. His words got caught in his throat the moment he said it, wanting to swallow it the moment they left his lips. He didn’t know what he would say, but he just said your name to hear it on his tongue. 

“What?” you groaned, eyes gently shut but words lazily spoken.

Jungwon peered down at you. His ears felt like they were going to melt off his head. His skin seared with that scorching type of sting, the one that ached. 

“Nothing,” he murmured, his chest rising and falling with each soft breath you took. Soon, your breathing stilled, and Jungwon was sure that you’d fallen asleep completely.

He observed 

It was weird. He'd seen you up close like this before as a cat, but now that he was human-sized, it somehow felt so much more... intimate. Jungwon found himself digging his teeth into his bottom lip as he watched you sleep. He couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes away from you.

Plunk!

Hey, what was that sound?

Plunk!

Jungwon's head shot to your bedroom window. Then, he heard yelling outside.

As he got up to check out the commotion, you tugged on him.

"I already told you..." you murmured dreamily. "It's cold."

Jungwon narrowed his eyes. "But, what's going on outside-"

"Ricky and Gyuvin," you answered, this time tightening your hold on the boy. "They like to... torment me... sometimes."

Just sometimes? Jungwon thought. Really, how often were you getting harassed like this?

Before Jungwon could answer, you were fast asleep again. From then on, Jungwon refused to move, not wanting to disturb your peaceful slumber.

But, there was one thing that he took heavy note of.

First, it was 7PM. It was completely dark outside by now, the blue-gray shrouded with clouds, only the yellow moon illuminating the sky.

And second, that he was still human.

Ever since that day, Jungwon hadn't turned into a cat even once.

However, while one phenomenon disappeared, another one emerged.

Jungwon's insanity.

Jungwon considered himself one of the, if not the most, sane person in every classroom. But right now, insanity was spiraling onto him like no other.

Weeks passed, and Jungwon couldn't shake off that tender, yet explosive, feeling he got when he was close to you.

After your week of detention was lifted, you and him slowly saw each other less and less. He couldn't help but feel disappointment when he locked up the detention room one last time, saying his goodbye to you.

You two were still in the same class, still saw each other everyday, but he didn't get to speak with you. 

And that was when Jungwon resorted to observing you.

He was naturally observant, but all this time, Jungwon had been observing the bigger picture. 

It started off with watching the doorway in the morning, praying that every person that passed was you. Then, Jungwon found himself watching you every passing period. Who did you talk to? Who tried to talk to you? What expression did you wear on your face?

Then, Jungwon took to roaming the school perimeter, under the excuse that he was just "patrolling the school for any trouble," when really, he was hoping that he'd run into you. This extended to after school. On the occasions that he actually ran into you, you'd shoot him a sly grin, making cat hands or ears over your head. He knew that you were doing that to tease him about his cat days, but his cheeks felt warm for another reason.

Have you always been that pretty? Of course, you'd always been cute, but did you always glow like that? Was Jungwon always into girls that looked like they could kick his ass? Why did the intimidating look on your face make his heart race?

Jungwon was in denial for a while, until he was at a Class Council meeting, when one of the members asked him casually, "Hey, what actually happened between you and [Name]?"

In retrospect, they were clearly referring to that one time you "assaulted" him. That incident remained shrouded in mystery for a while, as Jungwon refused to talk about it.

However, Jungwon jerked up at that question, his face painted with a look that could only be described as “constipated” at the sound of your name. Did someone find out about his cat transformation curse, and how you took care of him in that state? No, that would be too specific.

"Jungwon?"

"Y-Yes!"

Wonyoung and Jini shared a look, before a grin spread on their faces. 

"You make it seem like you guys were kissing, or something. We’re just curious about what actually happened."

A weird noise came out of Jungwon's throat, his eyes wide like saucers.

Kiss...ing?

"Oh my god, don't tell me you actually kissed [Name]--"

"I didn't!"

And he was telling the truth. But the bright, red color on his face betrayed him. The Council teased him all about it, even going so far as patting him on the back for "scoring a baddie" (Wonyoung's words, not his). He denied it, he denied it with his full chest. He held his head high, nose pointed to the sky, denying it like his life depended on it. 

But Jungwon couldn't help the weird feeling of pride that swelled in his chest. He liked the thought of kissing you, and in a weird, twisted way, he liked the way that people thought that you and him were together. Of course, he gave all of them a scolding for jumping to conclusions, but later in the day, when he was alone and reflected on the day, his cheeks began to hurt.

And that marked his actual descent into madness.

You began showing up in his dreams, smiling at him with those pretty, glossy lips, which he hadn't noticed until now. The grins you’d flash him across the room when he passed by, and the way you’d make cat hands or ears over your head whenever you saw him to tease him, made him feel weird. Gosh, did you have to be so pretty? Jungwon couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. He craved your warmth, the warmth you gave him when you held him to your chest, the warmth you gave him when you hugged and called him annoying. Was it weird that he liked the way you could beat him up?

Jungwon was pulled out of his thoughts when his phone dinged.

Today was another mundane day, where he spent his lunch period in the Council room, looking through the schedule.

It was the Class Council group chat.

wonyoung jang: my friend said something fishy is going on in building b

wonyoung jang: someone go check it out?

jini choi: can't, i'm in a meeting rn

jini choi: jinwoo?

wonyoung jang: forget it he never checks the gc

wonyoung jang: jungwon?

Jungwon was already on it.

It wasn't uncommon for people to cause problems during lunch. In fact, that seemed to be the time when most people created the most commotion—

Oh my god, it was you.

When he rounded the corner, there you were. You had your arms crossed over your chest, backed up against a locker. The ones cornering you? Ricky, Gyuvin, and their lackeys.

"You're getting boring, yeah [Name]?" Ricky grinned. "I don't see you fighting back as much."

You shrugged, but you were clearly tense, narrowing your eyes. "I don't want to deal with you guys anymore."

Ricky slowly buttoned his shirt, revealing scars. Scars from scratchmarks. The same scars that Jungwon gave him.

"You see this?" his gaze hardened. "You and your goddamn vermin gave this to me.'

You looked at him incredulously, but you couldn't hide the small curve in your lip. "Okay. And?"

Ricky slammed his fist against the metal locker next to your head, making a loud clang! You cried out in surprise, jolting in place. Heck, even Jungwon was startled, quietly jumping out his skin for a second.

"You think this is funny?" Ricky slammed his fist again, relishing in the way you squeezed your eyes shut in sheer bewilderment. "You think you can get away with this shit?"

Your eyes darted around. Clearly, you were out-numbered and overpowered. Yet, you wouldn't go down without a fight.

"Yeah, I do," you muttered. "It was funny, the way you screamed like a girl, Ricky."

Ricky snatched your face, his hand clutching your chin. He leaned in close to you, so close that you felt his breath on your face. 

"You bitch."

Meanwhile, Jungwon's heart raced in his chest.

It was getting out of hand: how many people chose to bother you. You were honestly just minding your business, why did people want to pester you so much? He needed to step in before things escalated. And get you the fuck out of there.

Jungwon's body moved quicker than his mind. 

"Hey!" he shouted, making his presence known. Everyone's head whipped over to him. Jungwon gulped as his mind went into overdrive trying to figure out what to say. Curse himself, why did he jump into this without thinking? What a genius.

"Look who it is," Gyuvin slyly stepped forward. "[Name]'s little crush."

If Jungwon wasn't about to be jumped, he would have turned red at that little comment. He was too focused on the fact that you were in possible danger. 

"Yanno, Mr. Class President," Gyuvin paced toward him, his brows raised to his forehead. "[Name] here named her cat after you. Isn't it weird how she's obsessed with you?"

Your eyes were wide like saucers, sending him warning signals. 

'You need to leave,' your eyes read, but Jungwon ignored it. This entire time, he pranced around as the Class President, feeling righteous, yet he never even tried to empathize with someone like you. How could he claim his title but be so clearly blinded by dumb prejudice?

Gyuvin gestured for Jungwon to come closer, pulling him so that he was right in front of you, face-to-face.

"This one causes a lot of trouble, doesn't she?" Gyuvin rasped. "Parading around like she's some kind of queen, when really she's just a little cunt."

"I know you're angry, Jungwon," Ricky added, motioning to you. "Let your anger out, won't you?"

They were right about him being angry. But not at you, not at the world, not at whatever internal conflict he had. 

At them.

Jungwon's hands balled into fists.

"You guys are out of your fuckin' minds," he grumbled, his shoulders shaking. Before they could respond, Jungwon raised his fist, and swung in as hard as he could at Gyuvin, square in the jaw. Immediately, the rest of their lackeys stumbled back, screaming out their leader's name.

This was your opportunity to fight back. Kicking off the wall, you landed a kick at Ricky in the stomach, pushing him to the ground. "Your breath stinks, by the way."

With your back turned, the next thing you heard was a yelp of pain.

Shit, Jungwon!

You yelled his name.

Jungwon, to your knowledge, was not a fighter. He didn't fight people daily, he wasn't violent, he didn't tell people that he'd "kick their asses" like you did. For goodness's sake, he was the Class President. He'd never even had a missing assignment, he was most definitely not going to be able to fight back, let alone land a punch—

But instead of seeing the poor guy on the floor with everyone else beating the crap out of him, you saw the opposite. Jungwon, with only a minute cut on his cheek and bruised knuckles, stood tall, while the rest of the guys (including Gyuvin) groaned on the floor.

How did he..?

Jungwon snatched your hand. Before you could process what the hell just happened, he started profusely asking you if you were okay, if you were hurt. Right in the middle of a whole bunch of dudes groaning in pain.

You squeezed his hand, before running off, pulling him with you.

"You're so annoying, Jungwon!" you scolded him as you wrapped his knuckles in the nurse's office. "Why would you jump into a fight like that—"

"You were in trouble," was all he said solemnly. 

"So what?!" You looked at him incredulously. "You're insane. You're the President, why would you—"

As you chided him, Jungwon found it difficult to focus. Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, or the way that you were so close to him. As he sat on the counter, you found your place in between his legs, dabbing rubbing alcohol on the cut on his cheek. It stung, but he only dug his teeth into his bottom lip, instead gluing his eyes to the way your lips moved.

"Jungwon, are you even listening to me?!"

"Yeah, yeah."

You smacked his shoulder. "And you're still recovering from an injury from a few weeks ago, what would you do if they tried to kick you in the stomach again?!" You flicked his forehead.

Jungwon couldn't help the way he felt his lips lifting up. The way you worried about him made his chest feel warm, mindlessly nodding along and agreeing with every word you said.

"You know what?!" you huffed, a hand coming up to rub your temples. "How the hell did you beat them up so quickly back there?! That— That was unreal."

Jungwon opened his mouth to answer, but you cut him off. "— Do you also have some curse that makes you unnecessarily ripped all of a sudden?"

Your hand came up to squeeze his bicep. Although it was hard, especially when he flexed it for you with a grin, revealing his toned arms, it still didn't explain how the hell he was so strong.

"I didn't tell you?" Jungwon smiled. "I used to do Taekwondo."

"You did not tell me. I don't think there was ever a conversation where that came up—"

Jungwon threw his head back, letting a laugh tumble from his lips. "Well, now you know."

It must have been something in the air, because Jungwon would not have done this any other time, but he slithered his arm around your waist as you cupped his cheek gently, fixing up the cut on his face. His hand dangled at your hip, his fingertips brushing up against your thigh. Your eye fluttered over to it briefly, but you didn't seem bothered. In fact, you actually leaned in closer, your other hand sliding up his chest to grip his shoulder for stability. As he was sitting and you were standing, his head angled up at you. The way you gaze down at him, your expression rested, made him almost feel light-headed.

"What if they spread rumors about you, Jungwon?" you asked quietly.

"I wouldn't care," he answered simply.

"But you're the President," your brows knitted together. 

"So what?" Jungwon breathed. "Should the President be concerned over silly rumors?"

"Won't people be suspicious if it suddenly came out that Jungwon Yang beat up a few guys?"

If you asked Jungwon this a few weeks ago, he'd be worried out of his mind. He'd be afraid of his reputation being ruined, he'd be afraid of what others thought of him. But for some reason, it didn't concern him that much anymore.

"That's their problem, not mine."

Just as those words left his lips, his phone began to blow up. He glanced at it briefly; it was probably the groupchat or something, but as it continued to ding, you motioned to it.

"You might want to check that out."

So he did.

wonyoung jang: jungwon we need you right now

wonyoung jang: it's BAD BAD

wonyoung jang: everyone's saying you jumped ricky and gyuvin

jini choi: mr president we need you NOWW

You peeked over his shoulder, only seeing the last message.

"You should go, Jungwon."

"I don't want to."

You gave him a look.

"Suddenly so rebellious?" you nudged his shoulder, the corner of your lip raising. "C'mon, you have duties."

Begrudgingly, Jungwon up and left the nurse's office, sending you the brightest smile he could muster. 

The moment Jungwon stepped into the classroom, he was bombarded– no, completely besieged– with questions. The mere amount of people hounding him with questions was so much, that all their words blended together.

“Okay, okay!” he shouted, putting his hands out in front of him. “One at a time, Jesus Christ.”

They called for a very "needed class discussion."

Long story short, Jungwon thought that everyone was kind of dumb. The way they were all concerned about whether or not he actually beat up Ricky and Gyuvin was ridiculous. Although Jungwon was honestly tired, he wanted to be smart with his words. He didn't want to scare them, did he?

"No comment."

"I don't feel like talking about it."

"I have nothing to add to that."

He found himself crinkling his nose a little too often as those words came out of his lips more times than he could count.

"Jungwon," some girl in the back of the class spoke up. "I heard rumors that you and [Name] are dating. Is that true?"

The class erupted with even more talking, people from other classes even lining the doorway to listen to it. The way that lunch should have ended a long time ago, but the teachers let this continue because they were also nosy and wanted to know. Did it really matter that much?

"Man, I don't know how I feel about that."

"But Jungwon's too good for her."

"[Name]? Of all people?"

They didn't even know you, how could they come to that conclusion if they never even spoke to you?

"But [Name]'s a bitch!"

"How is our Class President dating a bully?"

Jungwon's lips pressed together to form a thin line as thin as paper. He'd always thought that he'd been good at controlling his emotions, but the anger that was threatening to spill out of his throat was rising to a boil, bubbling to the point that if he didn't do something about it now, he'd absolutely implode.

"That's enough," he said, too quiet for anyone to hear. He sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes narrowing, behind Jungwon slammed his hand on the front table. "That's enough!"

The room went silent.

He took a deep breath, trying his hardest to contain his feelings. 

"I don't see the relationship between my love life and the class's affairs," he said simply. "We are having a class discussion, and in our class discussions, we discuss problems relating to the class. In what way is the person I'm romantically interested in a problem that relates to the class?"

Silence.

Jungwon looked around with a cocked brow, expecting an answer.

Silence.

Jungwon narrowed his eyes. 

He was tired.

As he pushed past people crowded at the door, Jungwon turned over his shoulder.

"By the way, I think [Name] is pretty cool. You guys should talk to her some time, maybe you'd be happier if you did."

And then he left.

Jungwon expected to find you back in the nurse's office, but he found you down the hall, your arms crossed over your chest, leaning against the wall.

He rushed to you, clutching your hands.

"[Name]," he said, "Hi."

You raised your brow at him, the corner of your lip lifting. "I'm pretty cool, aren't I?"

"Shut up," Jungwon muttered under his breath, but his eyes stayed stuck on you. He squeezed your hands. "Everyone's so annoying."

"I know," you squeezed his hand back. "You were cool back there, Jungwon."

Jungwon's cheeks warmed up at that compliment. Now that he realized that way your hands were in his, he felt his face prickle with heat. "Thanks..."

Somehow, your gaze felt too much for him to take. Jungwon avoided your eyes, choosing to look down at the floor. He felt your hand gently grasp his jaw, before forcing him to look at you.

"I really mean it," you said. "You're really the coolest. It's almost scary."

Jungwon opened his mouth to respond, but before he did...

Poof!

But this time, it wasn’t him that turned into a cat.

It was you.

"Not again!"

Jungwon seemed like a cat person. And he most definitely was one. 

The moment that your cat form appeared at his feet, he scooped you up. Taking off his uniform blazer, he carefully wrapped you in it, before (to your complete and utter surprise) he jumped the fence, skipping class.

You meowed profusely. You had no idea how Jungwon did it; as words tumbled out of your mouth, they only came out as meows, and when you tried to clutch his forearm, all you could do was curse your annoyingly small paws.

If it weren't for your feline form, you'd be scolding him, chiding him for skipping class.

He was silent until the two of you reached a stoplight, when he took you out of the wrap that was his blazer. With his thumb, gently rubbed the spot behind your ears. Without even realizing it, you purred, leaning into his touch as if to say,"More!"

Jungwon chuckled, and you could feel his chest rumbling. 

How embarrassing! How did he do this everyday for nearly a week and not go completely insane?! When he began rubbing your nose, laughing at the way that you fussed, Jungwon softly squeezed your stomach.

"It's my turn to take care of you, [Name]," he murmured, holding your feline face up to his. From your much smaller form, you could see every detail of his face— from the curve of his eyes, to the blemishes on his nose, to the divots in his half-chapped lips. You'd be lying if you didn't say that Jungwon had a nice face. You brought your paw up to his cheek, to which he chuckled again. He took your paw with his hand, before nuzzling his cheek into it.

When Jungwon finally arrived at his apartment, your question (where were his parents?) from weeks ago was finally answered: he lived away from them.

"Just like you," he whispered against your fur, rubbing your head as he flicked the lights on.

The next thing you knew, you were being bathed in warm, soapy water, as strawberry-scented bubbles filled the little bathtub. Jungwon dried you with his softest towel, and then you were eating the cat-equivalent of a five course meal.

"I feed the stray cats sometimes," he explained to you when your feline eyes gazed at him questioningly.

Was it normal for you to be so tired? You usually weren't this sleepy at this time in the day, yet you were. As you laid on Jungwon's lap, purring at the way his fingers ran through your fur, your eyes felt heavy.

It wouldn't hurt to doze off, right? After all, you were with Jungwon.

Jungwon tucked you into his bed, placing you on a pillow before covering you with a small blanket. He booped your nose.

Although he'd willingly skipped class today, he still had his own responsibilities that he'd like to attend to. He looked over all his homework, filing through all his important Presidential duties, and jamming in all the extra studying that was necessary. 

It was a quiet few hours for him. Every hour, or so, he'd go to check on you. Each time he did, you were soundly sleeping. Since you transformed into a cat during the day, there was no telling when or how you'd transform back. He wondered how you'd react when you transformed back. Would you be bashful about it? Or, like always, would you call him annoying, and tell him that he spread his "disease" to you? Jungwon's lips curved at the thought of that. You were cute as a cat, but he thought you were cuter as a human, obviously. 

As he worked away, Jungwon didn't notice the way the sun slowly sank into the horizon, its yellow face eventually disappearing. He was deep into focus when he heard a crash, and a small yelp. Coming from his room.

"Jungwon?" your voice called.

Immediately, he dropped his pen, dashing straight to his room. You were awake now, he thought. Maybe he could fit in a nice conversation with you, get closer to you, but that might be difficult when you were so pretty—

Oh.

The moment that Jungwon busted his bedroom door, he really didn't know what he expected.

But he definitely didn't expect to see you.

Naked, sprawled on his bed.

!!!

You let out a shrill scream. Jungwon's face flared with heat, immediately turning around. He buried his face in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. 

"S-Sorry!"

He felt like he could have increased the global warming rate and melted multiple ice-caps just by the sheer amount of heat radiating off of his face. It was so bad that his eyes began to water from pure embarrassment. 

Jungwon must be dying, he thought. He might actually drop dead now.

He heard rustling, before your voice, much quieter than he'd ever heard it, murmured, "You can look now..."

Jungwon turned around, but he still kept his eyes shut. If he looked you in the eye now, he'd probably combust on the spot. Slowly, his eyes peeled open, to reveal you, just as embarrassed as him, curled up on his bed, with his blankets wrapped around you.

"Sorry," you muttered, your eyes glued to the floor, too shy to meet his. Your bottom lip jutted out to form a pout, your brows softly furrowing.

Jungwon waved his hands in front of him profusely. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Y-You have nothing to apologize for."

"Right."

.

.

.

"Jungwon, I'm naked—"

He was already on it. Your school clothes were still in the washer, so Jungwon dug through his closet, throwing you one of his t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. He let you do your business, and just when Jungwon thought that all his embarrassment was gone, he saw you in his clothes.

Shit.

Jungwon clamped his hand over his mouth, unable to hide the growing smile on his cheeks.

You looked so... cute.

"Yah," you kicked him with your foot, still buried in his blankets. He could see the way your eyes were shifty, still avoiding his. "What're you laughing at?"

"Nothing," was all Jungwon said, but a smile was apparent in his voice.

"Stop laughing!" you threw a pillow at him.

This scene has happened before.

Jungwon laughed, his eyes pressing into thin crescents as his sharp teeth came into view. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip. Why did he have to look pretty when he laughed?

You threw another pillow at him. Jungwon snatched the pillow off the floor, charging toward you. You let another shrill shriek escape your lips when he managed to land a hit on you with the pillow.

"Jungwon!" you cried, as he grabbed another pillow, hitting you on the top of your head. You struggled for another soft and plush weapon to use against your assailant, but alas, he was much faster and stronger than you, "Jungw— Hey!"

"You started it!" He was kneeling at the edge of the bed, when he reached for yet another one of his pillows. When he did this, Jungwon had to climb onto the bed entirely. You hit his hand away from his target pillow.

"You already have two pillows!" you nudged him with your foot. "Don't be unfair."

"All's fair in love and war," Jungwon said simply.

You stared at him incredulously, before you bursted out laughing. Jungwon's ears burned, but he didn't budge.

"Okay, you nerd." With that, you seized the pillow that he was so desperately trying to obtain, only for Jungwon to try to rob you of it. For the next few minutes, you and Jungwon struggled over the pillow, ripping it out of each other's hands.

"Let go!" you cried.

"Absolutely not!"

It was going just fine. A friendly pillow fight. Right?

Except, Jungwon miscalculated one of his movements, causing him to launch himself forward. He landed right on top of you, his hands right beside your head with his arms caging you below him.

Oh.

Oh.

With his dark locks falling over his face, Jungwon gazed down at you with wide eyes. The way you looked back up at him, eyes glittery and lips parted, your breath heavy from the earlier play-fighting, made his heart race. Why were your lips so glossy under the light? Why did his bed fit you so perfectly? Why did you look so pretty when you were in his clothes in his bed in his arms? Why did he want to lean in and—

On your end, your heart was palpitating just as much as Jungwon's was. But of course, you didn't know that.

The lamp next to his bed casted a dim, orange light, and even under the shadow, Jungwon's honey tan skin glowed. 

There was something about the way his toned arms dangled over your head, or the way you could see his collarbones peeking out of his shirt, or the way that his neck just looked so goddamn kissable right now—

The two of you could have been staring into each other's eyes for minutes or for hours, there really wouldn't have been a difference.

"Uh, sorry," Jungwon finally said, the embarrassment finally settling in. He began to maneuver off of you, the warmth of your touch being ripped away from him.

No! You didn't want him to get off of you! You wanted him to be close to you!

You grabbed his wrist, yanking him down. Instead of caging you, Jungwon instead was now met with a faceful of your chest, much to his embarrassment.

"[Name]...!" he spluttered, but you didn't care. You pressed your hand on his back, making the rest of his body relax into yours, before you ran your hands through his hair.

"I'm tired," you muttered in his ear. "I want to sleep."

"Y-You just woke up..!" his voice was muffled by your chest and shoulder.

"I don't care." Your fingers stopped in his hair, before you reached for his lamp, switching it off. "We're sleeping."

All Jungwon could do was sigh, admitting defeat to you. He relaxed into your body, taking in your sweet scent, though with reddened cheeks. He thanked the newfound darkness for concealing the color of his face. Realizing that you were no longer playing with his hair, Jungwon clutched your hand, dragging it and plopping it right on top of his head.

"Play with my hair, [Name]."

"You're annoying," you whispered, but you complied. You were so warm, and soft, and calming. Jungwon felt all his worries melt away, which was why he couldn't help but nuzzle his face into your chest. You cocked a brow at him, pausing to flick his forehead. "Okay, you perv."

Jungwon shot up. "I'm not a—!"

You pushed his head down back into your chest, your other arm coming up to hold him in place. "Go back to sleep."

And who was he to refuse you?

Jungwon and you saw each other quite often after that. In passing, you'd always shoot him that signature smile, accompanied by a punch on the shoulder, or a light slap on the arm, or even a soft shove. Some days, you'd drop by the Council room and say hi to him, maybe even look over his Presidential papers. You got suspicious looks whenever you did, but the glare of the class's residential troublemaker and the Class President was enough to send people spiraling.

Day by day, Jungwon's feelings grew for you. Exponentially. It could be little things, like how you'd send him questioning looks when someone said something questionable, or the way that you'd scrunch your nose whenever he purposefully stared at you. But it was also the other moments outside of school that he valued, like when he found you feeding a few stray cats, or when he saw at the grocery store stocking up on cat food (just in case you or him turned into a cat again, your words not his). 

Little did he know, you, too, blossomed a crush. You didn't talk to many people, so Jungwon was special. You liked that he was diligent and hard-working, and his snobbery wasn't really existent. He was one of, if not the only, person that you chose to tolerate. He was cute, someone that you wouldn't mind being around.

It's been long known to Jungwon that he wasn't always as smart as he thought he was. But sometimes he thought he was plain stupid.

“I like you,” Jungwon blurted one day after school, as you helped him look over his papers. The moment that those words left his mouth, Jungwon wanted to eat them. 

As spring came rolling into your lives, the days were getting longer. Sunlight illuminated the empty classroom, casting a delicate shadow on your features. 

Jungwon didn't know what came over him, what spirit decided to possess him in that moment.

After a few moments, you said, "Okay."

.

.

.

Okay?

Just.

Okay?

Jungwon squeezed his eyes shut as his heart plummeted to his stomach. Of course he had no chance with you. How could he? Was he getting ahead of himself? Had he been misinterpreting your relationship this entire time?

Just as embarrassment crashed down on Jungwon, you clicked your tongue.

"Can you stop panicking?" you asked frankly. When you noticed his very red expression, you huffed. "I didn't reject you, if that's what you're thinking—" you pinched your nose-bridge— "Just, let me think of a response."

That only made Jungwon sink deeper into his seat. Oh, he was so naive! What would happen after this? He didn't want to lose his friendship with you, not at all! Maybe he should die, maybe the earth should just open up right now and eat him alive—

“Jungwon,” you finally said. “I think you’re really cute.”

Jungwon held his breath.

“But,” you continued. “This is a little fast for me.”

As catastrophe rained down on his shoulders, you stifled a giggle.

Setting down your pen, you rested your face on your fist, gazing over at the boy.

Gently, as if he were a piece of glass, your fingers clutched his chin, moving his face to look at you. Jungwon's eyelids fell shut at your touch. Biting back a grin, you leaned in toward him. Experimentally, you came just close enough for Jungwon to feel your breath against his lips, ghosting you lips over his. You watched the way his brows knitted together, his lips wobbling.

Cute.

You pressed one kiss on his right eyelid. You felt his shoulders tense under you, but you only smiled. You pressed another kiss on his left eyelid. Before he could react, you pulled away.

“Take me out on a date first, yeah?” there was a smile in your voice.

Jungwon stood frozen in his spot, before his eyes shot open.

Date?

“And bring me flowers,” there was a teasing, but also dreamy, tone in your voice. “I like roses.”

The way Jungwon just stared at you with widened, glossy eyes, dumbfounded beyond words made you throw your head back, laughter bubbling from your chest.

You leaned in toward him again, collecting his hands in yours.

“I like sweets, but anything with too much chocolate makes me sick,” you leaned in closer. “I’m free every day, since none of the teachers are on my dick anymore.”

You put your finger to your lip in thought. “If you don’t want to go anywhere, we can come over to my house and nap. I like being hugged and I get cold easily.”

“W-Wait, what?!”

Jungwon felt so much blood rush to his face, he almost fainted.

"I like you, too," you said simply, as if it were just another fact and not one of the most ground-breaking discoveries of Jungwon's life! "I want you to take me out on a date."

Jungwon blinked.

You got up from your chair, yawning and stretching. Then, you began packing up your things.

"I have to go now," you flashed him a grin. "I'm tired."

As you made your way to the door, Jungwon finally realized where he was, and what the hell was happening: you, his crush, liked him back, and this was his chance.

"W-Wait!" Jungwon blurted, his hand jerking out to grab your wrist. Almost like you were hoping for him to do that, you turned over your shoulder, humming.

"This Saturday!" Jungwon gulped down those dumb words that threatened to spill out his mouth, the ones that would make him look even more like a fool. "Go out with me this Saturday, 5PM."

You only smiled. "Okay. Saturday, 5PM. Got it."

The two of you stood like that for what felt like hours. Jungwon darted his tongue out to swipe over his bottom lip. He wanted to say something to you, but he simply couldn't bring himself to utter words.

"You won't turn into a cat, on me, yeah?" you teased him, the corner of your lip raising up. Oh, how much he wanted to kiss them. How would your hand fit in his? What should he wear? Where would you go?

"No..." Jungwon answered, too dazed. "I won't."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

You slipped out of his grasp, making your way out of the room. Though, your footsteps as they faded away sounded more excited than usual.

Jungwon was left there in the classroom, alone. He blinked a few more times, letting a few more pulses pass, before his face broke out with a smile.

There he stood, hiding his face in his palms. 

Oh, he couldn't wait until Saturday.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! <3

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode III

Calm After the Storm

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, profanity, age gap, rut cycle, heat cycle, extreme knotting, marking, scenting, territorial/possessive behaviour, breeding kink, p in v, mating/bonding, multiple climaxes, creampie, belly bulge, actual breeding, let me know if I forgot anything?

Word Count: 6.3k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Happy halloween guys! I know I literally fell off the face of the earth and I will make another post to address that. But I know I haven’t participated for @pandoraslxna ‘s kinktober event (I’m so sorry bby) but if I could only participate for one of the days it would be today for sure. So I definitely wanted to get this out before midnight. It’s not purely a/b/o but honestly entails all the aspects of it. I think we can all definitely tell who’s the alpha and omega here (Ralak is alpha material hands down, ofc). I hope you guys enjoy this one, and I apologize for such a wait <3 Also I feel like I’m a bit rusty, so apologies for any typos, errors, or just plain suckish writing.

ALSO a big happy birthday to my babe @neteyamsoare <3 love you and hope it was a good one!!

Synopsis: Your heat starts to subside, but Ralak’s rut is only getting stronger. What could possibly go wrong?

<- Previous -> Next

——

Only an hour has passed before you feel your not-so-gentle giant stirring behind you, waking you from your sleep. You’d both been on your sides for too long now and everywhere seems to ache. You whine when you feel his hips shift against you, tugging at the immense pressure between your hips. The bulge protruding from your lower abdomen has barely gone down and you feel almost as full as you did when he initially emptied his load inside you.

Silken strands of his hair fall onto your prickled skin as he props himself up on his elbow from behind you, perching his chin on your throbbing shoulder. He inhales deeply – longingly. His hot breath gently blows against your neck just as you feel his arm snake under your leg and yank it back in one rough tug.

“Ralak.” His name falls from your lips through a nearly inaudible croak. “‘m so full.” You barely mumble out, rolling your head to the side. Yet, the flame within you is without a doubt reigniting with a vengeance.

And he can sense it.

Simply by the way you push back into him, making that bulge in your belly protrude a little more. His large hand resting on your stomach can indubitably feel it. And the smile that it puts on his face is almost baleful, bearing his lengthy canines that yearn to sink deep into you once more. “Sorry, tìyawn [love].”

He just can’t help it.

No matter how hard he tried. The desire—no, the need—to fuck into you and claim you as his time and time again is… irrepressible. In this moment, nothing else felt better than your little, used cunt hugging his cock so tightly that it almost hurts. He yearns to fill you over and over. Again and again until your womb is overflowing with his seed. The mere thought has his balls pulling tight to his body, firming up by the second all just to flood your womb again.

“Muntxate [wife].” Ralak growls into your neck, sliding his hand down to your inner thigh. “I will try to be–” He groans slowly, his pointer finger now burrowing itself between your tied pelvises, “–flrr [gentle].”

The final accented word comes out roughly, and if it weren’t for his finger slipping past his knot and into your cunt, you would’ve probably heard it clearly. You yelp out when he traces his finger around his knot, stretching your already taut skin, attempting to work a little space to allow his bulge to slip out.

It's all consuming and you’re simply too overwhelmed with his size that you fail to realise how your body is synced with his and bearing down to push him out. All whilst he’s struggling to fight the snap of hips to avoid hurting you. But the tugging is nothing like you’ve felt before adn you can finally understand why he was so insistent in the first place.

ut there was no getting out of this now, not that you even wanted to.

“It–it’s…” You brace yourself by grabbing onto his forearm, “...t-too big.”

“Ngaytxoa [sorry]” He huffs out his fourth apology, losing himself once again as his hips finally jerk back out of his control.

Pop.

His knot slips out of you with such force that the squelch it makes is as loud as your whimper. It’s so wet and slippery that his cock follows behind his knot, sliding out of you effortlessly. He’s more than half-hard yet so heavy and hung it rests close to your knee. Then you feel it. His cum dribbling down your thigh, still warm and sticky as if he just filled you up seconds ago.

It’s such a conflicting feeling — a mixture of relief and pent up frustration. Your heat is still in full bloom, despite it being so quenched until you’re almost nauseated. It’s as if you were two pieces perfectly linked together, allowing nature to run its course with no second thought. He grunts when he feels the crisp night air against his groin, his cock now springing up to its full length in just a few seconds.

He, too, feels some sort of feverish way now. Itching to be back inside your warmth, enveloped by your gummy, slimy walls. He opts to pepper wet kisses along your neck, and then up to your jaw, lingering there as he tries to distract himself from the ache to shove it back inside you.

Until it becomes too much.

“Tanhì.” He moans into your ear, heavy lidded eyes struggling to stay open as his tongue trails the skin on the back of your neck. “Need you.” It’s his way of begging for permission. Permission to slam his cock back inside you and hammer into you until the annoying itch deep in his core goes away again. You were the only one to make it go away. To stop the hurt. “Please.” He whines out a plea of desperation, now gritting his teeth from the way his stomach is tensing. “Now.”

But that last plea wasn’t much of a question, no. It was more of a demand. A way of saying, ‘give it to me, or I’ll take you on my own terms’.

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath, sliding your free hand down your side to hook it under your leg. You pull it back and reposition your hips to give him access to your cunt. “P-Put it in, ‘Lak.”

Ralak’s hips begin to stutter — the leaking, mushroomy tip of his cock now repeatedly prodding between your puffed up folds. His breath turns raggedy as he tries to guide himself back inside you handsfree. Your slick is overflowing, making it even more difficult for him to align himself with your entrance. The frustration brewing within him bubbles over when his cockhead glides past your swollen clit instead of sinking in your cunt. So he pulls back in one swift move and —

Thrust.

Your body jolts from how quickly he slams every inch of his cock inside you, forcing you split-open. Ralak huffs a shaky sigh of relief, his breathing growing a little steadier now that he’s deep inside his mate. Meanwhile, your mouth hangs agape yet no sound falls from your lips. Your eyes well up with tears and your ears lay flat against your skull. Your body is in complete submission to the beast dominating it and there’s nothing else you can do but give in to the pleasure.

“Your scent.” He whispers open-mouthed, tips of his canines grazing the nape of your neck. “It is driving me crazy.” You release the breath that you didn’t even realise you were holding. You didn’t even know what to say. Not like you could really say much right now anyways. You’re too lost in the fog of your own heat. For once, Ralak is doing most of the talking. “It makes me…” He snaps his hips back, only leaving half of his length inside you. “...lose myself completely.”

A deep roll of his hips.

A lewd moan dripping off your lips. 

“How do you do that?” He huffs, pressing his teeth against your neck. You don’t answer yet again. You just can’t find the words. Not right now. Not when he’s so deep inside you. “Hm?” A deep growl vibrates up his throat, his teeth just barely piercing the first layer of your silken skin.

“I—” You’re cut off by your own squeal when you feel the sting of his bite. Your breath catches in your throat and he immediately unlatches, lapping at the nicked skin to soothe it. “Sorry.” He whispers breathlessly, planting a quick kiss on each of your marks. “Sorry. Sorry.” A few more apologies flow from his mouth, as if he were drunk off of too much fermented fruit. Somewhat lucid but still so spaced. “I cannot —ngh— help myself.”

Thrust.

“‘M sorry.”

He knows he went a little too deep just now. But you feel so fucking good around his cock.

Chomp.

Another mark. Right on the bend of your shoulder, next to your first.

“Ngaytxoa [I’m sorry]”

A small cry from your quivering lips.

“S-Stop. No more apologies. I am yours to do what you p-please with.” You finally get out in one, weary breath.

Ralak’s languid, deep thrusts are laced with desperation. And with each stroke they become harsher and harsher. Faster and faster. Now he’s got your full permission he lets go once more, falling into the thick fog of his rut.

Within seconds his cock is pumping in and out of you, his half-deflated knot continuously prodding and poking at your entrance. The tip of his cock drags against your walls, putting an immense pressure right on your sweet spot. Yet still, sounds barely fall from your flushed lips. You’re too out of it. Too focused on the raw sensations rippling through you all at once. His overwhelming pheromones. His marking. His relentless pounding.

Rather, hot tears well over your eyes and stream down your face.

He can’t stop slamming himself inside you. He doesn’t want it to stop. It’s absolute rapture and he’s unapologetically drowning in it.

“Tanhì. Tanhì.” He groans needily. “y/n.”

He only says your name when he’s serious about something.

And hearing it drip from his tongue onto the nape of your neck has your hairs standing high and your clit throbbing.

“Eywa. Yes, ‘lak? T-Tell me what you need.” You blubber out, tightening your grip on his forearm.

“Haa — spread yourself.” He demands, prompting you to tuck your leg back as far as you can. His pace quickens, hips striking you with a sinful vengeance. But no matter how hard he fucks you, or how deep he buries himself inside you — its just not enough. He needs to be closer. To be deeper. To really be inside you. To knot you.

“More.” He grunts, slowing his thrusts into rocking, grinding himself inside your slippery, tight cunt.

You go to tug at your leg and meet nothing but resistance. “I-I’m trying.” You can feel it now. Perhaps it’s the bond or maybe it’s the way his knot is working you open but he’s growing more and more frustrated by the thrust.

“Mmmh. Wider.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” You’re quick to answer, feeling nothing but pressure from the way he’s trying to shove more of himself inside you.

“Agh.” He growls in frustration, pulling out of you and grabbing you by the ankle to flip you onto your back.

Ralak situates himself between your legs without hesitation and pushes them so far back your knees graze against the tips of your ears. You can barely breathe in this position and are having a hard time seeing anything else but his raging cock at your entrance. You can feel the burn in your thighs from how far back he’s shoving your knees but that sting is masked by the pleasure of him plunging himself back into your pussy.

The moan that rips from your lips is obscene and like no other. The crown of his cock is drilling itself directly into your sweet spot, causing it to swell with unadulterated pleasure. And each time he pulls out just to sink it back inside you he winds you in the process – making you sputter out absolute nonsense. Even he knows you're close, despite being in the thick of his rut.

But frankly, he doesn't care.

All he’s concerned about is satisfying his own urges.

“Not enough.” He grits through his teeth as his eyes shift to an even deeper shade of mauve. “‘ts not enough.” He pants, voice laced with something of worry. Panic that this feeling won’t go away. It makes you panic too, wondering if you’re doing enough for him. If he’s going to take even more from you. If you can manage it.

“You’re okay. Do what you need.” You try to reassure him, grasping your feet and holding them back–opening yourself up even more. But fuck, that only made things worst for you.

And by worst, you mean better. It feels like you’ll burst any second now, especially with how much pressure is on your bladder. “Fu-ck me. God, fuck–ahaa-fuck me.”

His brows bunch together as he peers down at you, beads of sweat rolling off his face to drip onto your chest. His jaw is so tense it looks as if it may fracture. He’s grunting with every push and huffing with every pull.

“Right there! Fuck. I’m close. I’m so fucking close. I-I need you to cum i-inside me. Oh—please ‘lak. Please!” Your cries are choked and muffled, breaths short and raggedy. The heat pooling in your core is unbearable. It needs out. Now.

Ralak swallows. Hard. Through his own haze he can see that you’re in need too. He shuffles closer to you, tucking his feet under him to assume a squatting position. Now he’s all but on top of you, folding you into a merciless mating press. This one shift in position has you coming undone on his cock, coating it in your thick slick as you sob from the white hot pleasure. The force of your climax has you pushing him out and only has him drilling himself further inside you. If it’s not for the way your pussy walls tighten around him surely his knot would have popped inside you by now.

He’s still fucking into you, right through your orgasm and towards his.

“Say what you need.” He panics through a tightened jaw, grinding himself inside you – pushing his knot against the resistance.

You know what he’s actually asking from you. To say something. Anything to tip him over the edge. To rid him of this maddening itch.

“Breed me.” You whisper, locking eyes with him. You watch as his pupils blow into thin rings and then constrict into nothing but dots. You try to swallow what spit you could, attempting to clear your throat. “Breed me. Please.”

“Then take it.” He lets loose a sinister growl, putting all his weight into his final push. For the first time, you feel his knot pop inside you, veiny and as thick as can be. You let out a high-pitched whimper, and feel your teeth begin to chatter. That doesn’t make him ease up, though. He continues to grind himself inside you until you feel the familiar, warm sensation of his sticky seed spraying inside you – filling your womb to the brim. His cock throbs wildly, in perfect synchrony with his own heartbeat, and soon yours too as the bond equilibrates your souls once more.

Strangely, you thought you’d be sore and overstimulated by now, but your body has never felt better. You’re full and content and more than satiated. Ralak heaves a sigh — one of pure relief. It’s glued to his face. All panic washes away and he’s feeling more at peace the longer he remains inside you. He’s rigid, firmly holding his position on top of you — ensuring he empties every single drop inside you. Yet, his heavy lidded eyes begin to close.

“I can’t breathe.” You mumble, snapping him out of his tranquil trance. His eyes meet yours and the corner of his mouth pulls into a little smirk. He exhales a breathy chuckle and carefully manoeuvres you both into a more comfortable position. He settles himself on his back and supports your body whilst positioning you on top of him.

“Better?” Ralak husks, drawing circles into your back with the tip of his finger.

You take a deep breath, filling your lungs to full capacity and then slowly release it. “Much.”

“Nga yawne lu oer [I love you]” His accented words slur together as he dozes off.

“Nga yawne lu oer, Ralak [I love you].”

——

Ralak woke repeatedly throughout the night for his fill. If it wasn’t him, it was you. Waking up in a clammy state, shaking and nuzzling into his chest from your heat. You honestly thought that the more time passed — the more rounds you went — the more he would calm down.

But, you thought wrong.

He’d start by leaving tender kisses wherever he could, whispering he’d do his best to be as gentle as he can be. Then, he’d slip a finger inside you, stretching you out in attempts to pull his knot out without hurting you. But it would always sting, even just a little bit. After that he’d beg. Pleading with you to let him back in, and apologize right after plunging inside you regardless of your answer—which was always yes.

At this point your own foggy haze would take over. Perhaps it was your body’s way of coping with the overstimulation, but you pined for every single second of it. Sometimes it would last for a few minutes. Where he’d be quick to fold you in two and growl in the shell of your ear, ‘you’re mine, haah — fuck, take me’. 

Sometimes it was closer to an hour. Where you’d both be so tired you’d take breaks, lazily taking turns fucking each other, telling him to ‘put it back in’ whenever he’d slip out. But one thing remained the same every time. You’d sob when you’d cum and then beg him to breed you. And he would, without a doubt, breed you.

Mercilessly.

And with each breeding, he’d lose himself a little deeper. Knotting you over and over. Marking you repeatedly until your body’s littered with bites. Until you were so fucked out you’d lost the feeling in your legs. Until your throat was so dry you could barely speak. Until you needed a break.

——

“Wait.” You crawl towards the bedside table with wobbly knees. “Just need some water, Lak.”

Ralak pounces on you, knocking you onto your stomach and pressing himself against you. You extend an arm out, fingers splayed out and shaking from you trying to reach the cup of water Ka’ani left there more than a day ago. Ralak grabs your hips and hoists you up onto your knees and elbows, and mounts you from behind.

“Water. Water, Lak.” You beg with a hoarse cry, only for him to line the crown of his cock up with your sopping cunt. He growls next to your ear as he stretches over you and reaches for the cup of water, filling his cheeks and putting it back down within a couple seconds. With a quick grip of your jaw, he turns your head and meets his lips with yours.

Before you can process what’s going on you’re gulping down water as fast as you can. And when he pulls away, you’re yet again met with the hazy eyes of his rut. That’s when it dawns on you that whilst your heat is coming to an end, his rut is only getting stronger.

Rather than looking away, he locks his gaze onto you, just so he can watch your face screw as he slams his cock inside of you in one, hard thrust. It works a sudden, breathy moan from your mouth, eyebrows pinching together from the stretch. He holds his position, basking in the warmth and tightness of your cunt as his breath goes shaky.

“Wait.” You mumble weakly, shoving a hand behind you to push against his lower stomach. “Please.”

For the first time, you were telling him to stop.

His jawbone flutters as his eyes search yours. Restraint plasters to his face, and the only audible thing is his heavy breathing. He nods. Just once. A firm and intentional nod. He swallows the residual water left in his mouth and tenderly pulls out of you. You hear the thud of his footsteps quiet down as he nears the marui door, and then the splash of the water when he dives into the rough sea.

It’s pouring outside.

Storming, actually. Thundering and lightning. Yet he feels this is the only way he’d be able to resist the urge to storm back in and fuck you. But the instinct to protect his mate, even if it’s from himself, is more than enough to give him the willpower to walk away.

You take this moment to just breathe, turning your head to face the plush bed beneath you as you gather your thoughts. Did he just show that much restraint? Enough to walk away from a female na’vi during her heat cycle… all whilst in the height of his own rut cycle?

“Lekye’ung [insane]” You mutter, using your trembling hand to grab and bring the cup to your lips. They, too, are sore and chapped. Having gone so many hours without any food or water, you knock it back, shaking the cup to get out every drop. Finished already? You think to yourself, looking inside the cup with hazed vision, confirming it’s indeed empty.

After setting it back down onto the table, you slump back into the bedhead, relaxing your body. You’re sore. Actually, sore is an understatement. Every single muscle and fiber in your body burns—and that isn’t entirely due to your heat either now that it’s finally subsiding. Perhaps you should be taking this time to have a look at your… condition, but you’re finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

So you give in, sinking further and further into the bed as you doze off.

—

A few hours go by and Ralak returns with a net of fish thrown over his shoulder and a bucket of fresh water perched on his hip. He carefully sets down the bucket and rests the net next to the fire pit. He’s cautious not to wake you, nor come too close to you. Ralak ignites the fire and fans the flame. As quietly as possible, he prepares and cooks the fish, setting them aside to wrap in the leaves of a spartan tree.

Since coming to Awa’atltu, one of your biggest adjustments—despite the obvious—has been your change in diet. Fish weren’t uncommon back home, but they certainly weren’t the main source of food. You prefer the other foods here, your favourite being what you call ‘inland boar’, which is an animal that resembles what your father calls a ‘pig’ from his star.

But not even that, (boar) could smell better than this (fish).

The aroma alone rouses you from your sleep.

Your eyes open to a dark room and a glowing fire pit. The fire is out but the wood remains hot, shifting among different shades of orange and red. Ralak sits beside it, with his back leaning against the support beam of the pod. His arms are crossed over his chest and his knees are slightly bent. It’s hard to see more than just his silhouette with the lack of moonlight.

“That smells good.” You rasp. Ralak’s eyes fly open to reveal a familiar shade of deep blue. Like the sea. They glow and flicker before you, examining you now that you’re sitting up out of bed.

Crack.

A bolt of lightning strikes in the distance, illuminating the room. For a moment, you were able to see every single bike mark, scratch and bruise you’ve given him. It also reveals that he’s shaking. Trembling from being wet and cold, or possibly from the strain he was putting himself through from just being in the same room as you.

Ralak moves quickly, shuffling to his feet and going right for the leaf that holds a few sloppily rolled fish. He brings it to you, setting it slowly on your lap, being overly cautious not to touch you. Grabbing your cup on the table, he dunks it in the bucket and sets it beside you.

“Eat.” He whispers, backing away to sit next to the pit. You watch as he slides down the beam and into a sitting position, and then glance down at your food. Saliva pools in your mouth from the aroma wafting up your nose.

You’re hungry.

“Thank you.” You say quietly, hastily stuffing an entire roll into your mouth.

You moan as you chew, nodding your head from how good it tastes. It’s hard to swallow, given that you bit off more than you could chew—literally—but when it finally goesdown you feel your stomach grumble for more. Ralak watches you intently. A wince screwing his face with every swallow he witnesses. And when you finish, you chug down your water and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

Another crack of lightning strikes, and then a low, lengthy rumble of thunder follows.

“That was… one of the best you’ve made, lak.” You say with a wobbly smile, slowly getting on your feet to wash your hands. The bucket is nearby your mate, who is still fixed in position. Although he remains unmoving, his eyes follow your every move. You shake your hands to dry them and shuffle over to Ralak and sit next to him.

“so… how do you feel?” You ask quietly, raising your hand to check if he’s feverish. He turns his head before your hand can make contact with his skin and his gaze locks onto the charred wood in the fire pit. 

“Fine.” Ralak mutters.

Eyebrows pinching in confusion, you tilt your head to try and look him in the eye. Your brows relax when you come to the realisation that he’s already taken care of himself. And only Eywa knows how many times.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that. I would have—”

“Ma’ muntxate [my wife]”He croaks, swiftly turning his head to look directly into your eyes. “Oeru txoa livu [please forgive me].”

“Txoa? [forgive?] What for, ma’ muntxatan? [husband]”

“I have… neglected you.” He’s struggling to speak. You can hear it in the strain of his voice.

Regardless, none of his words are really making any sense to you right now. How has he been neglectful? Despite the circumstances, it’s obvious he’s been trying his hardest to be good to you. Somehow, even conjuring up the strength to pull out of you and walk away.

“Ralak. You have not. Please, I—”

“Look at yourself.” He snaps, taking a quick glance at your body before dropping his head in his hands.

Crack.

Conveniently, another strike of lightning and boom of thunder, revealing exactly what he’s talking about. For a few seconds, you’re met with the sight of your battered body—scabbed and bruised. You lift your head, staring at his shameful demeanour. But the more you stare, the more you see your own reflection.

“And have you looked at yourself?” Your words bounce as you shuffle closer to him. “I bet you can’t even feel all that damage I’ve done to you.” You coo, using your thumb to gently graze past an easy six-inch scratch mark on his bicep. “I haven’t been so gentle with you either.”

Ralak shakes his head, allowing it to sink further into his hands. “You were starved.” He mumbles into the palms of his hands.

You sigh, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin in the dip between them. Your eyes wander over to the fire pit, catching sight of the outline of a few fish rolls.

Has he really punished himself by not eating?

“Have you eaten?” You ask, resting a gentle hand on his back.

“No need.”

“You should, you know. Don’t want you starving on me, lak.” You say lightheartedly, allowing your hand to slide up his spine and to the base of his skull.

He lets loose a quiet groan, fighting the twitch of his ears. Your fingers smooth over the base of his kuru, playing with the braid encasing that covers it. “If you do that—”

“Do what?” You whisper coyly, quickly running your hand down the length of his kuru.

His spine immediately straightens, his head lifting from his hands. The tips of your fingers gently make their way to his tendrils, carefully teasing them as they try to wrap around your digits. He sucks in a sharp breath and closes his eyes, allowing a shiver to run through him. It feels like your fingers were inside his skull, tickling his brain in the best way possible. 

Reaching for your kuru with your free hand, you bring it up and over your shoulder. You lean into Ralak, your lips only inches away from his. You pull away your fingers to grip and pull his queue forth. The loss of contact has him sitting up straight, opening his eyes to look at you.

“I will not let you suffer alone.” You whisper, lessening the distance between the two of you, tilting your head to the side ever so slightly. He stills himself, even limiting his own breath so as not to make any sudden moves. “Okay?”

You wait for just a moment. For him to say something. To move away. But he remains stock-still, waiting for you to initiate this. You smile, your top teeth briefly rubbing against this lower lip, and lock your lips with his. He exhales through his nose, coming to life from your kiss and returning it full force. You take this as a good sign. A sign that you’ve broken through that wall once again, and bring your kurus together — making tsaheylu [the bond].

Both your eyes fly open, blown pupils staring into one another as your spirits unify. You both pull back, shoulders and chests heaving from your quick, unsteady breaths. You feel all that he feels – the frustration, the panic, the tension. It’s all fading, now finally nearing the end. He feels your subsiding heat, your soreness, your overpowering urge to care for him.

Before another second could pass, your lips crash into each other again—tongues intertwining as they explore one another’s mouth. Using his hand to support your upper back, he slowly lowers you onto the woven floor, parting your legs with his free hand. He situates himself between them, pressing his crotch firmly against yours. He’s warm, just like the toasty fire pit next to you.

I will try to be gentle. Ralak thinks to you, just like he’s been promising to be night after night.

I know you will. You smile, moving your kisses down his jawline as he slides his hands between your sticky pelvises.

——

It hasn’t even been two full weeks since the synchronous heat that had you and your mate locked away in your marui pod for a little over two days. Your back and thighs–and honestly everywhere else– still ache but outside of that, you feel like a brand new person. You weren’t able to confidently say that Ralak feels the same way, however.

Of course, he was adamant on limiting intimacy until you were ‘healed and recovered’. But, he had a bounce in his step. As if he were physically lighter. As if the weight of six years of pent up sexual frustration and self neglect melted off his back when you satiated the ‘insatiable’.

The constant aftercare was almost sickening. Even after most of your marks had faded he remained adamant on treating them with your own omaticayan herbs from back home. He praised them at every use, thanking your people for making such exceptional ’umtsa [medicine].

But as you entered the second week, after tons of reassurance, things dissipated and went back to normal. Ralak went back to his usual routine—fishing, hunting, responding to a few calls to Tonowari and your father. Ralak, without a doubt, made a vow to you and himself not to initiate anything until you were more than healed. But nonetheless clung to you in the nights.

He even, in fact, added a new step into your usual nighttime regimen. As usual, it began with the snuggles and tucking you under his arm just right, providing you with enough warmth to endure the cool night air. Then, he would release the perfect amount of pheromones to get you drowsy enough for bed.

But recently, he’s spent the past seven nights delaying the nightly routine until he’s had his fill of your scent. He’d lay himself down on your chest, nuzzling his face into your bosom and just breathe. You allowed it, thinking it was his own newfound way to wind down for bed.

Yet, the real reason was much different.

——

Right on the two week mark, Tsireya had roped you in with helping her with some of her Tsakrem duties. You were always happy to help her though, as it meant getting away from the marui pod for a little even if it meant being poked and prodded at.

And it certainly didn’t take long for that to happen.

Tsireya lets out a frustrated sigh and plops the medicinal pouch she’s weaving in her lap.  “I can no longer ignore it, y/n. You smell different.”

You lift your head, tearing your focus from your task of weaving and look at her with a puzzled expression on your face. You bring the end of your tail to your nose and sniff, but smell… nothing. “Like what?” Her brows lower and her eyes glisten with concern. She purses her lips and unsheathes the lengthy pin from its casing and grabs your hand. “Here we go.” You mutter to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as you anticipate the sting.

Prick.

“Sss—ah! You need to be careful with how deep you go with that, you know. You could really—” The tsahik in training puts the wooden stick to her tongue and stares at you wide eyed, mouth agape. It’s as if she wants to speak but the words are lodged in her throat. “What? What is it?”

“You—perhaps I am wrong.” She stutters, quickly sheathing the tool back into its casing. “You should see my mother, y/n.”

“What? Why? Just tell me.” The words come out in a haste, and your voice is laced with panic. Do you have some sort of disease of the sea? Is there a cure? 

“You — you are with child.” Her lips tremble as she says the words in an uncertain tone of voice.

“What?” You stare at her dumbfounded, a little caught off guard by her choice of words.

“Pregnant. You’re pregnant. But I am likely mistaken. I am only in training. Which is why I said you should see my moth—”

“Oh. No. You’re… you’re probably right, Tsireya.” You swallow the spit pooling in your cheeks, avoiding eye contact.

“H-How? I mean. I know how. But how? Surely Ralak knows not to do such a thing during your heat. He can control himself. R-Right?”

“Right. If I were the only one… in heat.” You say the last few words under your breath, fixing your shawl before picking back up your task.

“What do you mean?” Tsireya leans in with a tilted head, looking a little closer at your covered shoulder. “Did you help him with his rut?” Tsireya asks bluntly. “He’s been unmated for six years, y/n. Did you reall—”

“I am his mate. Of course I did.” You nearly snap, baffled by the tone she’s having with you.

“H-How did that even work?” Tsireya shakes her head, slowly raising her hand towards you.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You finally lift your head to shoot her a puzzled, yet offended stare. “It worked like it would for any other Na’vi.”

“Y/n…” Tsireya quickly grabs your shawl, pulling it off your shoulder to reveal a large, deep and scabbed up bite mark. It looks almost infected because of the strange omaticayan herbal concoction smeared over it. “You should have just let him ease you into it. Look at you, you’re all bruised and—”

“Tsireya.” You interject, “thank you for the concern, but—” you aggressively pull up your shawl, “I feel just fine. Besides, being in heat was the best way to ‘ease me into it’…He was as gentle as he could be.” You mutter, twiddling with the twine as you think back to the way he tried to handle you with care.

“By the looks of it, he was anything but gentle with you.” Tsireya seethes, angry that the man she grew up looking at like a brother would do something like this to you.

You wince at her words. They’re like a knife to the heart.

A long, awkward silence fills the space between you and Tsireya. She reflects on everything she’s said, realising that perhaps she was a little more harsh than needed. She softens her gaze, “I’m sorry. I should not have said that. I just hate seeing you hurt.”

“I get it. I know you’re just looking out for me. It’s alright, ‘reya.”

You exchange lighthearted smiles.

“You are definitely pregnant then. After six years, he must have really filled you—”

“Tsireya!” You laugh, giving her shoulder a light shove.

Tsireya’s grin morphs into a more serious expression. “See mother to make sure. Okay?”

Your smile also fades into something softer as you nod your head in agreement. “Okay.”

[dwaekkicidal]

Hii sian!! Im new to your page and i love your writing! I don't know if requests are open rn tho. So feel free to ignore this! I was thinking if you could write something like dom!hyunjin x fem!reader and like hyunjin punishing reader for flirting with some other guys. feel free to ignore it and if you do want to write it i will be more then happy to read it! Also it can involve anything:3

hi nonnie❤! thank you :') I'm glad you've enjoyed everything so far! requests are open :3 if you're ever not sure just check my pinned post!

hope you enjoy hehe <3

Much Needed Reminder

˚ʚDom!Hyunjin x Model!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: ~2.3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, rough sex, meaner Hyunjin (my staple at this point sry not sry), dirty talk, ‘slut’ name calling, some spanking, overstim, mentions of edging

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: fun fact: the name Choi (최) is actually pronounced "Chwe/Chwi" :)

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

You’re currently in some random studio in Seoul, modeling for an upcoming collaboration you were having with Beauty of Joseon, a skincare company. Your boyfriend happily tagged along for once, since he finally had some free time outside of his schedule. He sat in the sidelines and watched you do your thing, giving you a huge smile anytime your eyes met his. It led to some of the team’s favorite shots of you: your genuine smile shining from the attention of your lover.

All was going well until a few hours in, you noticed the lingering eyes of the producer staring at your cleavage any chance he could. It made you feel grossed out, but when your eyes landed on your boyfriend’s murderous gaze, you couldn't stop your legs from pushing together. ‘It’s been a while since we’ve had sex anyways… why not make a little game out of it.’

So, a game you started. It started with fake bashful glances at the producer, making sure both mens eyes were on you when doing so. Then, it quickly moved on to overly dramatic whines and puppy dog eyes whenever the producer would come up to you in order to describe a new pose. You could tell by the pink cheeks of the producer and the narrowed eyes of your boyfriend that the game was already going in your favor.

The final straw was when everybody was wrapping up, putting away the products and their cameras. You all but skipped over to the producer, placing your soft hands on his bare arms and squeezing. “Thank you so much, Producer Choi! I had soooo much fun today.” You made sure to say it loud enough so that the outraged boy watching your every move could hear your tone clearly. If Hyunjin wasn’t so blind by anger, he would’ve seen right through your fake act.

However, he is NOT God’s strongest soldier, and the sight of your hands on another man had him rising to his feet. He turned his back to the scene and walked towards the snack tables to grab a bottle of water. You watched him from your peripheral and the nonexistent victory screen was already in your line of sight.

Feeling quite proud of yourself, you suddenly tell the producer that you couldnt wait to ‘have him as a friend’ and quickly moved your hands away from him. You ignored the way his eyes widened and his smile faltered, and you offered him a sweet smile as you swiftly made your way to the double doors labeled “EXIT.”

As you’re walking down the long hallway, you hear long steps following you. You smirk to yourself and make a show to sway your hips with each step you take. There’s a faint groan and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. As you step in front of the door with your name on it, you’re suddenly pushed against it. You let out a sigh as the ‘unknown’ man behind you pushes you into the door, rubbing his bulge between your ass cheeks. He sighs out a low “Jagiya..” and your mouth moves before your brain can stop you from digging yourself into a deeper hole.

“Oh~.. Is that you, Producer Choi?”

The man behind you tenses before essentially growling into your hair. He swings the door open and shoves you in, slamming the door behind him before stalking towards you. You’re quickly turned and pushed up against your vanity, meeting the angry and narrowed eyes of your boyfriend. His eyes dip down to your smirk and he rolls his eyes before grabbing you by the chin.

“You are such a pain in my ass.” He mumbles out, pulling you into a wet kiss and pinning between his body and the table. His hands fiddle with the bottom of your dress, pulling it up and above your head as he pulls away from your lips. You go to complain and ask what he thinks he’s doing all of the sudden but his hand moves to grab your cheeks, squishing them together and making it hard for you to speak clearly.

“If you wanted to be fucked so bad you could have just asked me, honey. No need to go rub your pretty hands all over some filthy freak who you don’t even know. You’re mine.”

You giggle against his hold and when his hands move down to cup your waist, you finally speak out, “Yeah but where’s the fun in that?”

“You think you’re just sooo cute, don’t you baby…” He whispers into your ear, his hands teasingly trailing down your sides to rest against your hips. When you nod with a big grin on your face he can’t stop himself from laughing. “Yeah, you really are. But I think you need a reminder of who you belong to. That cuteness won’t stop me from fucking you stupid all over this room.” He spins you around and roughly pushes you into the laminated table top by the back of your head.

You wiggle your hips impatiently as you hear him unbuckling his belt and pulling his lower clothes down in one go. He lands a loud smack to your right ass cheek, pulling your hips against his own when you squeak and run from the contact. His hands grip onto your waist and pull you back into him, also pushing you into the table to angle you downwards.

His free hand traces his tip along your folds to gather your wetness before pushing in rather impatiently. Off the bat he set a brutal pace, pummeling into you with each thrust as his hands roamed all over your body. He possessively squeezed at your hips and your shoulders anytime he passed them, hoping if he did it enough it would mark his name into your skin forever.

“F-Fuck! Hyunjin, wait! The d-door is unlocked.”

“Good. Maybe I’ll even fuck you up against it and let the staff hear your slutty moans so they know who you belong to.”

You whine at the thought, letting your eyes flutter closed. Your cheeks constantly rubbed against the table as your hands dug into the edge of it. Your hands shakily move near your chest in an attempt to push yourself up. But before you know it, one of his hands trails into your hair and grabs a fistful from your scalp. He angles your head back and uses his grip as leverage to hold you in place against the vanity as he fucked your brains out.

You cry out when your eyes land on the mirror above you. You were met with the sight of your boyfriend’s thick lips caught between his teeth, his eyes narrowed and focused on where his hips smacked against yours. His arm muscles flexed with the sheer strength he used to hold you down, and the sight had your legs shaking.

“Jinnieee.. Fffuck. I’m so close, pleaaase.” Your pleas sounded so desperate, but you couldn’t find it in you to care when one of his long fingers reached under you to rub messy shapes onto your clit. With the added stimulation, it took you no time to gush around him. Your legs shook beneath you as your orgasm ran through your body. It passed fast and once you were finished, Hyunjin quickly pulled out. You didn’t feel him cum and you looked back at him confused.

“I’m not even close yet, so we’re not done. You wanna act like a slut, you’re gonna get treated like one.” He growled out, pulling you away from the vanity and towards the loveseat in the room. He took a seat, spreading his legs widely before pulling you onto his lap. As your hips went to rest on him, he positioned himself so that you sat on his dick. You both let out low moans at the feeling, but his hands quickly moved away from you in favor of resting behind his head. When you made another confused face at him, he just smirked and leaned back against the couch. “C’mon baby. Work for it. I won’t do any of the work this round.”

You whine loudly and frown down at him, getting ready to complain that your legs were too weak but he thrusts his hips upwards roughly after your whine. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Now hurry up before I leave you high and dry for the rest of the day.” You both knew he would never actually do it, he was way too obsessed with you and your body to even think about doing such a thing. But the way he casually lounged had you believing it and you clenched tightly onto him, pulling a cocky smirk from him.

Your bottom lip quivered but you dragged your hips against his, grinding against him slowly for a few minutes. You barely processed one of his hands moving as you ground yourself harder against him, whimpering at the way his shirt rubbed against your puffy clit. There was a harsh sting and a loud slap to your ass that sent you jumping forward. You expected to land against his broad chest, but instead you landed in a grasp that was his long fingers wrapped against your throat. Your gaze moved to lock with his but your eyes quickly shut feeling another slap hit your ass cheek.

“F-Fuck!” you cried out, tightening even more as you felt his fingers tighten around your neck. 

“Do it the right way, baby.” He commanded, moving his hand from your ass to rest on your thigh. You finally lifted yourself and bounced on his dick, letting out desperate moans as you swore you could feel him in your stomach. You rode him like this for some time, only slowing down to admire his features.

He was leaned as far back as the chair allowed, face dripping with sweat as his lips held the biggest shit-eating grin ever known to mankind. From your movements, the hand on your thigh had fallen to your knee and his other hand continued to rest like a puzzle piece against your throat. Your hips stuttered as your orgasm suddenly snuck up on you. Creaming from just looking at your boyfriend must have been a new record.

Your movements almost completely stopped as your thighs shook uncontrollably, but Hyunjin wasn’t having any of that. His hands moved from their spots to grab your wrists, pinning them to your back in an X formation as he pulled you to lean on him. You were too distracted to notice the way your head fell to his shoulder, but you nestled into his neck when you felt his hips begin to slam into you.

You silently screamed from the overstimulation, quickly biting into his neck and crying out against his skin as he gave you no chance to recover. With the way his hands held yours, you had no choice but to take what was given. You felt saliva pooling in your mouth and you tried desperately to swallow it but one deep into your cervix thrust had you seeing stars. It finally dripped down your chin as he spoke up for the first time in what felt like forever. 

“Nice and d-deep, right baby? Just how my little slut likes it?” He stuttered through the teasing statement at the feeling of his balls tensing up, and you could feel his thrusts getting sloppier. You nodded into his neck as your third orgasm built up fast, causing your nails to dig into your palms.

“You’re MY girl. This pretty pussy and this?” He pauses to land a slap on your ass, “This nice ass? Is MINE. Nobody can fuck you or love you like I do.” This sends you over the edge and you let out an porn-star like moan as you cum, your tightness finally being too much for him to handle and he finishes next.

The room is filled with nothing but your combined breaths as your heartbeats slowly return to normal. Your legs shake almost nonstop for a while after you calm down, and you find yourself whimpering at the feeling of Hyunjin pulling out. His dick slaps against his stomach and he coos soothingly against your ear.

Your forehead was still shoved against his shoulder when your eyes finally noticed your drool connecting your lips to his jacket. You shakily pulled away and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

You sat on his thighs, feeling his cum drip out of you and onto the floor as his pretty hands massaged circles into your hips and his pretty lips whispered sweet nothings into your ear. Ranging from “You did so good for me, honey. Took me so well.” to “You’re so pretty, my little masterpiece. I got you, I got you. Don’t worry.”

By the time you both return to normal, you’ve been changed into new clothes and Hyunjin has become distracted and newly obsessed with the drool stain on his jacket. He could feel himself getting hard again while staring at it, but forced himself to tear his eyes away once it was time to leave. He grabbed your combined belongings and had you hold onto his arm as he led you to the taxi he had called on the ride down the elevator.

Everything was back to normal and extra sweet as he opened the door for you to sit first, then shoved your things into the truck before taking his own seat. You smiled up at him with those pretty eyes and whispered into his ear, “That was so much fun, Jinnie.. Sorry I flirted with the producer, but you see what my vision was.”

He laughed and pulled you into a soft kiss before leaning into your ear to whisper, “Oh, don’t worry baby, your punishment has barely even started. Once we’re home I’m edging you all night.”

[joostsblog]

I love love loveee your writing for Joost!!

Could you do a longer one shot, where Joost is playing the reader his album (preferably Fryslân) with Florida 2009, a she comforts him? Would be amazing <3

Leyla, write one fic as it was requested challenge, level impossible 😅 so I altered your request to be about Liverpool bc I didn't think I could do it justice with florida 2009 being such a personal song, I hope you understand ❣️

Liverpool ~ Joost Klein oneshot

My masterlist here ✨💌

Pairing: Joost Klein x female!reader

Description: Your boyfriend Joost shows you his new album and the end of Liverpool holds a little surprise for you which will change your relationship forever.

Word Count: 0.8k

A/N: Here I am still writing something while I said I wouldn't do so on vacation lol ☀️ if you liked it, you can show your support by leaving a reblog 🫶

Warnings: not proofread

"I think I'm ready," Joost stood in the doorway of your shared apartment.

You looked up from your phone and your face lit up as you knew what this meant. Joost was a perfectionist and avoided showing you rough mixes of his songs because he wanted you to experience them as they were intended - perfectly finished. He had only shown you two finished songs from the album he was working on and now he was finally ready to play the album front to back for you.

"Are you sure?" you asked as you got up from the sofa and walked towards him. He nodded and you could tell that he was nervous. "I'm sure it's gonna be amazing," you said and gave a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Don't sing your praises too early," he laughed.

You sat down in his makeshift home studio and he handed you a pair of headphones, putting some on as well. You put your hand on his knee as he was looking up the files on his computer. Just as he was about to press play, he looked at you again.

"I'm not sure I should even look at you," he laughed nervously. You gave his thigh a reassuring squeeze.

"Do whatever feels comfortable to you," you said with a smile. "I'm gonna love it."

Joost nodded took your hand into his and pressed play. Before you closed your eyes to focus on the music you gave a quick peck to Joost's cheek.

As you were listening through the album, you bopped your head along, smiled and noticed all the shy glances Joost was giving you to check for your reaction. You were right, you did love it. As the last song Liverpool slowly came to its end, you could tell that Joost was watching your face very intently now. The song ended with a series of shout-outs to Joost's friends and collaborators, which warmed your heart.

Shouts-out to Tantu Beats

Shout-out to Joost Klein

Shout-out to Dylan meine brudi

Shouts-out Stuntje shouts-out Wim Hof

Shout-out to Jack Parow out in South Africa

Shouts-out to Apson

Shouts-out Nathan Vandergunst

Damn, shouts-out Enzo Knol

Shout-out to (Y/N)

Shout-out you for listening to my album

I fucking love you man

Your heart skipped a beat as you heard your name appear in the song and your eyes immediately began to water.

You and Joost had both agreed pretty early on in your relationship to keep it private. No one knew that Joost was in a committed relationship and especially no one (except for your friends and family) knew that the person he loved was you. It was the right decision at the time because it allowed you to love and live in private without any unwanted attention. But the longer you had been with Joost, the more the both of you had talked about wanting to actually express your love for each other publicly as well. You just didn't expect that Joost was ready for a step like this - putting your name in one of his songs.

As the song finished you both put your headphones down. Your eyes were still welling with tears and your smile was wide.

"I can take it out if you want to," Joost offered hesitantly and you shook your head no immediately.

"No, please keep it," you said and cupped his face with your hands. "I love it," you said before kissing his soft lips which curved into a grin.

It didn't take long for fans to pick up on your name in Liverpool after the album dropped. Fans took to Twitter, TikTok and Tumblr to voice their opinions of the album and also their confusion about that unknown name.

"Who tf is (Y/N)?"

"IKR? I swear I've never heard that name before"

"Maybe she's his manager???"

"I doubt it, why would he thank her last after all of his friends?"

"Wait, let me check something, I think I've seen her Instagram account before!!"

To your surprise, it also didn't take long before fans found your Instagram account with just a few hundred followers just because you appeared on Joost's follow list and he commented on your posts frequently. There were no pictures of the two together on your account but through puzzling together locations and outfits, some fans quickly found out that you spend a lot of time together.

The follows, likes and comments slowly came flooding in and you realised that your relationship wasn't so private anymore. But even the few nasty comments didn't make you regret your decision.

So when a few days passed and the comments persisted ("is she Joost's gf?") you decided to upload a picture to your story.

the cat's out the bag, you captioned a picture of you happily cuddling with a cat in your arms, another hand also visible stroking the cat. A hand with a 1983 tattoo.

[cactus-cuddler]

¸.·✩·.¸¸.·¯⍣✩𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

Natasha Romanoff

x female reader

¸.·✩·.¸¸.·¯⍣✩¸.·✩·.¸¸.·¯⍣✩¸.·✩·.¸¸.·¯⍣✩¸.·✩·.

Word count: 1k

Plot: after an argument with Natasha, your partner, you retreat to a friend's place feeling lost and devastated. Two days later, Natasha surprises you by showing up to leave a letter. Filled with anxiety, you're unsure whether to read it, fearing it might end things between you.

Genre: dramatic(?), hurt & comfort

Author's note: English is not my first language so sorry if you find several errors!

You and Natasha had a big argument, and it's been two days of silence since then.

The tension had been building for days. You were caught up in a demanding project with your colleague Wanda Maximoff, leaving Natasha feeling neglected. When you finally got home, exhausted, you barely acknowledged her before heading straight to bed, which only fueled her sense of isolation.

Things came to a head during dinner with friends, where they praised your successful collaboration with Wanda. Natasha made a joke that inadvertently embarrassed you, hinting at jealousy and discomfort about your relationship with Wanda. The atmosphere soured, and the argument erupted as soon as you got home, lasting for hours until you stormed out, slamming the door behind you.

Now, without Natasha, you feel lost. After two years together, the thought of it all ending over a silly argument pains you deeply. But neither of you is willing to break the silence. You're now at a friend's place, barely eating or sleeping, yearning to be close to Natasha again, to talk to her, to feel her lips on yours.

You're lying on your friend's couch, looking and feeling like a shell of yourself. Your friend tries to comfort you with your favorite ice cream, but it does little to lift your spirits. The only thing that could truly make a difference is Natasha, but you doubt she would come – until her familiar voice surprises you at the door. You're almost convinced you're hallucinating; why would Natasha show up now after days of silence?

"Do you want me to call her?" your friend asks softly, unaware you can hear every word.

"I don't think she wants to see me," Natasha's voice replies, resigned and filled with sorrow.

"Are you planning to leave her a letter without talking to her?" your friend asks more urgently.

"It's all I can do," Natasha murmurs quietly.

You leap from the couch, rushing towards the door, but your friend manages to close it before you can reach Natasha.

"Was she here?" you ask tearfully upon returning, heart sinking as your friend nods and hands you a letter Natasha left for you. You're torn; each line could either heal you or hurt you further.

You leave the letter unopened on the coffee table, sealed in a red envelope. Is it a cruel gesture signaling the end before you even read it? You hesitate, fearing more pain, as your friend sits beside you, offering a comforting embrace.

"Natasha looked just as lost as you do now," your friend says gently, stroking your hair with maternal warmth. "She's scared of losing the person she loves most in the world. You both scare each other."

"I love her so much," you whisper, choked with emotion. The anguish threatens to overwhelm you.

"Do you want to know what she wrote?" your friend asks softly.

You manage a smile, acknowledging she's right. Taking the letter, you retreat to the bathroom for a moment alone with Natasha's words – words that could either devastate you or offer hope.

A smile of relief spreads across your face. Natasha wants to work things out. Leaving the bathroom with renewed determination (and lingering anger), you tell your friend you're heading home to face things with Natasha. She offers to accompany you, but you choose to go alone. Natasha deserves the chance to make amends, even if you, too, have apologies to offer.

The walk home, typically a twenty-minute journey, feels longer under the weight of uncertainty. You hadn't bothered to change out of your pajamas and slippers, a minor detail that you know won't bother Natasha.

"You're adorable," Natasha says softly, a faint smile lifting her tired eyes and dark circles. Despite her disheveled appearance, you find her endearing. Her smile, however small, warms your heart – a glimmer of hope that you both can mend what's been broken.

"I owe you an apology," she whispers, fidgeting with her hands nervously. Her agitation is palpable, a rarity in your typically composed partner.

"Me too," you reply in the same hushed tone, sitting together at the kitchen table, side by side. Silence hangs heavily between you, filled with unspoken words and shared history, the essence of your connection.

With hearts in hand, you begin to talk – really talk – sharing everything you've bottled up during these tumultuous days. There's a flicker of possibility, a chance that your love might survive this storm.

"Do you remember when we tried to bake a cake together?" Natasha asks suddenly, a hint of mischief in her voice. It's a memory you promised never to share.

"You were the one who said to put it in the oven. I was sure you meant the fridge, but I didn't dare contradict you," you say, laughing softly. The memory of burning an ice cream cake had led to blaming each other before eventually blaming the kitchen.

"And do you want to try making that cake again?" Natasha asks.

Your eyes light up with joy, eagerly accepting her offer. This cake symbolizes more than a sweet treat – it's a metaphor for overcoming a crisis that nearly tore you apart. Perhaps this time, the cake will turn out perfectly.

Thanks for reading and let me know if you want me to bring you a one-shot where you and Natasha burn that ice cream cake!

[cornsoupflavour]

Sorry, I Found Better (Twice NSFW Smut)

[ New Collaboration Pt. 2 – See Pt. 1 ]

⚠️18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI⚠️

TWICE Mina Myoi x Manager!Male Reader

Tags: 3.5k words, semi-cheating, multiple creampies, sweat, sharing, manager x idol, romance, wholesome, possible breeding/impreg, body praise

Months after her encounter with the new idol, Mina realised that she wanted more. Not more of him, but more of that feeling he gave. After some reflection, she realised he didn’t satisfy her as much as she wanted him to. Even the collaboration faded into the back of both their minds. After the two drifted apart despite the hope he had for the both of them to continue to see each other, Mina was left feeling rather empty – both physically and figuratively.

The feeling became worse after the whole incident with you and Momo. That whole ordeal made her feel some type of way, like that was what she wanted. She wasn’t sure if it was you, Momo or the both of you, she wanted to get a taste of whatever you two had. But alas, with the fact you and Momo were dating now, it felt as if that were to never come true.

It’d been a while since she treated herself to some retail therapy, and thought that might be what she needed at the time. She grabbed her things, put on a really spicy outfit, and headed out.

She walked around the mall, checking out branded bags and jewelry when she heard a familiar voice call out to her.

"Mina?"

Mina turned around to be greeted with Momo’s bright smile and tantalisingly curvy body. Mina’s smile widened even further as she saw you approaching from behind Momo.

"Momo!"

The two girls leaped into each other’s embrace excitedly. It’s been a week or so since they last saw each other in person but it seemed as though that was long enough. The girls chatted for a bit, giggling and gossiping. You couldn’t help but notice Mina, sneaking in glances at you, once in a while.

You flashed a warm smile each time you felt her gaze on you. You might be with Momo, but you couldn’t deny the allure Mina had on you.

"Anyway, I’ve gotta be somewhere now, you two have fun, alright~?" Mina chimed as she pulled Momo in for a really tight hug. "Mr. Manager, huh? Good job, Momo... Say, you up to share?"

"With you Mina? Of course~ TWICE’s J–Line has to stick together right?"

Wow, she thought Momo would be more possessive... Maybe this could be the start of something new and special.

"Mhm~"

"But I mean, I won’t say no if the other girls ask to share him either... As long as I remain his favourite~"

"Hehe~ Of course~"

Your eyes shifted around, unable to discern what the whispering was about. But as quickly they embraced, they pulled away. Mina gave Momo a fluttery wave before turning to you and winking.

As Mina left, Momo wrapped her arms around yours before continuing the errands you had to run.

Later on that night, as you had settled into a comfortable routine with Momo by your side, nestled in your bed. You were about to drift off to sleep when your phone buzzed. It was Mina.

"What? It’s like... 11PM..."

Momo turned over, her beautiful eyes locking with yours with a soft gaze.

"Who is it, baby? Is it Mina?"

"Yeah, how’d you know?"

Momo giggled, bringing her hand up to your cheek and caressing it gently.

"Us girls just know... But I encourage you to go, trust me."

A soft smile graced her lips as she leaned forward and planted a soft but longing kiss on yours. A few moments later, the both of you pulled away. You nodded reluctantly as you got out of bed, walking over to your closet to grab some new clothes.

"If she asks to head back to her place, do it. I’ll be fine tonight, baby. Don’t worry about me~"

You frowned a little, as you approached her side of the bed to give her a soft kiss on the cheek. "Are you two planning something?"

"Hmm... You’ll just have to find out~"

You shook your head amused before grabbing the keys and heading out. "Love you, Momo. If you need anything, just call, alright?"

Momo nodded, "Love you too, Y/N~ Bring my beloved Mr. Manager back in one piece, alright?"

"I will," you chuckled as you left your home and made your way to the meeting spot Mina had picked. Luna Cafe... 

Upon arriving, the lights around the cafe were dim. Not in a ‘scary, dangerous alleyway’ dim but more of a ‘romantic evening with your spouse’ type dim. You walked in, amazed that a cafe would still be open at this time of night. The lights within the cafe were the same romantic dim, a soft jazz tune playing in the background.

You scanned the patrons before spotting Mina, seated in a corner. Her eyes zeroed in on you the moment you walked in. When your gazes finally met, she waved you over. She wore a white turtleneck, a black coat and some tight black jeans.

You approached the table, a soft smile on your face as you took a seat. "So, Mina, you wanted to see me? What’s going on?"

"Mr. Manager... I have to come clean... Earlier this year, I met a new idol..."

Mina began to explain her situation and what she did. You sat there listening attentively. Once done, she sighed.

"But, I don’t know. Something felt missing between us. Or well, it felt as though HE was missing something..."

"What might that be?"

"I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but... when we caught you and Momo in the hotel room the other night... I realised that was what he was missing."

You blushed deeply. You and Momo had already slept and fucked well over three times now, but somehow, you still feel embarrassed and shy when someone brought it up. "W–What do you mean? What did you realise?"

Mina breathed a deep sigh before placing her hands onto yours, her thumbs tracing circles on the back of your hands. "I realised... he wasn’t you, Mr. Manager..."

"...I guess I’ll just come out and say it... Mr. Manager, I want you to fuck me the same way you did Momo."

Your eyes widened. Did she really just say that? "Mina... Y’know, I..."

"If this is about how Momo would react, don’t worry about it. I made sure to discuss this with her and Jihyo before this. Please, Mr. Manager... please show me that you love me as much as you love Momo and the others..."

You froze. This was... quite the temptation. You took a moment to yourself to think. As you looked into her eyes, her motherly yet youthful appearance, her gummy smile and her toned body... You couldn’t say no.

"Alright, Mina. I’ll do it. Is there anything else you’d want me to do before we go through with this? I take it you want to join my relationship with Momo."

Mina's eyes lit up with excitement, a wide grin spreading across her face. "Yes, please. Let's go to my place. It's not far." she said, standing up from the table.

"Like right now...?"

Mina nodded, a slight seductive glint in her eye. That’s when you remembered what Momo said and decided to go with it.

You followed her out of the cafe, the two of you strolling through the quiet streets. The night air was cool, the city lights casting a soft glow over the surrounding area. The both of you engaged in some small talk, discussing music, the latest gossip within the industry and what it’s like to be dating THE Momo Hirai.

"Y’know, you’re a lucky man. In–charge of a group of attractive girls, even dating one of them? I know people who would kill to be in your place..."

"Yeah, I really lucked out. Momo’s the best thing to have ever happened to me... besides becoming TWICE’s manager, of course."

The both of you chuckled as you felt her body leaning slightly onto yours. She wrapped her arms around one of yours as you walked. Initially, you felt a little put off, but you slowly warmed up to it. If Momo says it's alright, it's alright.

A few moments later, the two of you arrive at her apartment. Mina's apartment was cozy and filled with a sense of warmth. The smell of recently–baked cookies lingered throughout the space. There were posters of various artists adorning her walls, including TWICE and some of her solo endeavors.

"Comfortable, right?" Mina asked, leading you to a couch.

"Very much so. I didn’t think you’d keep all the posters I gave all of you for each of your tours..." you replied, taking a seat.

"Yeah well, you gave them to me, so I gotta, right?"

Mina sat beside you, her hand gently brushing against yours. "I appreciate you coming here, Mr. Manager. I know this is a little confusing for you, especially since you're already with Momo."

"It's alright, Mina. Momo’s alright with it and I want to make you happy too," you assured her.

Your gazes locked as she slowly brought her face closer to yours. Your lips met, your tongues dancing together in an intimate embrace. Mina's hands slid down, gripping your waist before moving lower to unbuckle your belt.

She pulled away momentarily, "Mr. Manager–"

"Please, Mina... call me Y/N."

Mina blushed slightly, "A–Alright, Y/N... I want you to breed me, alright?"

Your eyes widened, unsure if what you heard was right. Breed? Like... start a family? Mina could sense the shock behind your widened eyes.

"You heard me right, Y/N... I discussed this with Momo... she said that she’d allow you to get me pregnant... but if you want to breed her first, I’d totally understand."

You stuttered, unable to get words out of your mouth. Before long, your body moved on its own, leaning forward and joining your lips together once more. It appears your decision has been made. Whether it happens or not, you are going to attempt to breed Mina.

As the makeout continued, Mina pulled away once more. "Y/N, wait. Let me get changed into something... nicer for you~"

Your hands lingered on her hips, almost not wanting her to leave but a little wink from her left a smirk on your face. You waited patiently, checking your phone for any messages. Momo had just sent some.

Momo 🥰🥰: hey baby~ everything going well?

You: everything’s fine here baby, im back at mina’s

You: how about you? everything alright back at home?

Momo 🥰🥰: mhm

Momo 🥰🥰: just missing my beloved man is all~

Momo 🥰🥰: anyway, im not gonna bother you

Momo 🥰🥰: breed her well okay, baby? im trying to be an auntie here~

You chuckled to yourself.

You: alright baby, ill do my best

Momo 🥰🥰: okay~ get home safe, and if youre still not satisfied, im always open for a breeding~

You blushed hard as the both of you bid farewell. As you put your phone away, you looked up and felt your cock spring out from your undone pants. Mina sauntered in, her tight and fit body adorned in a beautiful feathered–blue jacket and a sexy light blue top and skirt.

Your mouth hung slightly agape as the goddess of a woman entered the room.

"So? How do I look?"

"...I need you so fucking bad."

You leaped up and wrapped your arms around her waist, engaging in a hot makeout once more. You dragged her back onto the couch and adjusted your member so that its tip is perfectly aligned with her slit.

It felt as though you weren’t in control any longer as you impaled her onto your cock, the tip bottoming her out almost immediately. She moaned loudly, arching her back to meet your every thrust. "Fuck, Y/N, you're so fucking big~! Just like Momo said you’d be~" she cried out.

You increased your pace, slamming your whole length into her as you showered her upper body with kisses. You began to lick her breasts erratically, it felt like you’d gone insane with lust.

As the intensity increased, Mina’s moans grew louder. "Ahhh, Y/N... you’re making me cream all over your cock," she panted.

You grinned, loving the wetness engulfing your length with each plunge. As you drowned in the sensations, you reached up, fondling her breasts while you ravaged her pussy. Mina arched her back, her heaving chest begging for more as her moans morphed into cries of pleasure.

"Mmmm, Y/N... you feel... so fucking good..." she groaned, her fingers digging into your shoulders.

You could feel her warm folds begin to quiver around you, a sign that she was nearing her climax. Her walls clenched tight, making you feel like you were the owner of the most sought–after toy.

"Gnnnngh... Y/N... oh, fuck... don’t stop..." Mina pleaded, her nails digging into your flesh as her orgasm claimed her.

Her cunt milked you like a greedy monster, and you couldn’t help but match her rhythm, feeling the familiar tinge of your own impending release.

"Mina, I’m close, baby..." you warned, your voice raspy.

"Knock me up, Y/N..." she cried out, her voice shaking as she looked deep into your eyes, urging you to fill her with your seed.

Your thrusts became more erratic, your hips bucking as you lost all semblance of control. With a loud grunt, you exploded, flooding her insides and filling her with your hot cum.

Mina continued to shake, her orgasm reasserting itself as you spilled your load into her. When your orgasm subsided, you collapsed onto her, panting heavily.

"Holy shit, Mina... you’re... unbelievable..." you said, your breath still catching in your throat.

Mina smiled, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. "Momo said you’d say that."

You began to pull out, admiring the evidence of your defilement on Mina’s thighs. Her hand rested on your abdomen. "Hold on, you didn’t think we were gonna stop after one round did you?"

Mina gazed longingly into your eyes as she pushed her lips against yours in a deep and passionate kiss. "Until further notice... I’m claiming you... You belong to me and Momo now~"

The both of you smirked before Mina broke the kiss, a wicked grin on her face. She readjusted herself as she made you lay back on the couch. Before long, she straddled you again. This time, however, her demeanour was different; she was in full control... Mina was in–charge now. Her hands gripped your shoulders tightly as she lowered herself further onto your cock, her pussy swallowing your whole length once again.

"Ahhh, Y/N, I’m..." her voice quivered as she bounced, her sultry voice pleading for more of your thick shaft. Mina began to ride you, her movements slow but deliberate. Each time she rose, she’d slide almost entirely off you, teasing your tip with her wet entrance.

"Mmmm, Y/N... you feel... so fucking good..." Mina’s tone was demanding, taking charge of the situation. She set a relentless pace, her slender thighs gripping your hips, her pelvis rocking back and forth. Her hands rose to her soft breasts, groping and squeezing them desperatrely. You did the same.

"Gnnnngh... Y/N... oh, fuck... don’t stop..." She cried out, her moans deafening within the small apartment. She leaned in, her lips brushing against yours. "THAT’S IT– YOU’RE MINE~"

Mina began to bounce faster, her cries growing louder as the scent of sex began to fill the room. Her hand reached between her legs, rubbing her clit while she rode you. Within minutes, she began to shake, her inner walls clenching you tightly.

"C–CUMMING–! C–Cum with me, Y/N!" Mina begged, her voice trembling.

Your hands gripped her hips. You didn’t think either of you could cum again this quickly, but Mina has shown you her sexual prowess and you just couldn’t hold back your own release anymore, your hips bucking to meet her rhythm. 

Together, you both climaxed, Mina’s orgasm pushing you over the edge. You pumped her full once more, your seed spilling into her as she collapsed on your chest, her hair draped over your face like a veil.

Panting, she whispered into your ear, "You better get used to this, Y/N. Momo and I are going to milk you dry."

"Oh, Mina... What do you think Momo has been doing with me the past few days?" You chuckled, sweat dripping down your forehead. "But hey, I’m not complaining, Mina."

Mina hugged you tightly, her heartbeat syncing with yours. You both remained intertwined, sharing this intimate moment in silence, savoring the afterglow.

She leaned up slightly, her outfit messy but still intact. The way her back arched made you shoot a little cum into her still impaled body.

"One last time?" she asked.

"I can’t say no to you~"

Mina leaned all the way back, your cock still engulfed within her folds. She arched her back a little, pushing her tits upwards. You could see the outline of her ribcage but for some reason, that turned you on that much more.

The both of you were now positioned in this desperate and hungry missionary, you began to drive yourself into her, your thrusts quick and forceful. Mina arched her back, her breasts jiggling with each plunge. She gripped your shoulders tightly, her nails digging into your flesh as her moans grew louder with each thrust.

"Aahh, Y/N, I’m... oh, fuck, Y/N, don’t stop..." Mina panted, her voice almost hoarse from all the screaming.

Your brows furrowed as you gritted your teeth. You’ve grown sexually frustrated. It’s like you couldn’t get enough of this woman. You kept thrusting, your hands reaching forward to squeeze the wonderful pair of mounds in front of you.

You could see a slight bulge on her abdomen form each time you thrusted inwards. Her loud yet sultry moans pushed you forward. You squeezed her hips, your hands gripping tightly on their sides.

"Fuck– Mina– I don’t think I can ever get enough of you– Momo was so right to invite you to join us– FUCK–"

Your own breathing grew ragged as you neared your limit yet again. Mina's sweat–soaked skin glistened under the light, her ribs visible beneath her smooth skin.

"Mmmm, Y/N... you feel... so fucking good..." she cried out, her words becoming more and more desperate.

Each thrust was now a battle for dominance, both of you vying for control as you forced your bodies to submit to the rhythmic pounding.

"Gnnnngh... Y/N... oh, fuck... don’t stop..." Mina begged, her voice now a mixture of pleading and demanding.

You slammed into her one last time, the sound of your flesh meeting hers echoing in the small room. "That’s it, Mina, squirt for me–" you groaned, your voice hoarse. Mina began to scream out in pure ecstasy and pleasure.

"OH MY GOD– FUCK~ KNOCK ME UP, Y/N– DO IT–!"

Mina's walls convulsed around you, triggering your own orgasm. Together, you both unleashed powerful orgasms. Her cries of ecstasy intermingled with your guttural grunts. Your seed flooded her once more, the heat of your release igniting another wave of pleasure for Mina.

With both of you completely spent, you collapsed onto her, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweat dripped from your brows, coating both of your trembling forms.

"God damn, Mina..." you whispered, panting.

Mina smiled, her cheeks flushed from exertion. "I–I’m glad you approve, Y/N."

"Approve? I don’t think I ever wanna be away from you anymore... I guess it’s official, you’ve joined my relationship with Momo."

Both of you stayed entwined, sharing this intimate moment, the room now filled with the scent of sex and the heavy thumping of your heartbeats. After a while, Mina let out a content sigh, her body relaxing beneath you.

A few hours later, you were back at home with your beloved Momo. She could see the look of a man who had just been drained of what is essentially his soul. She playfully called out to you.

"Y/N, baby~ Come and sit with me."

As you waddled over and sat down, she gave you a soft kiss. You reciprocated.

"So, how was it? Looks like you had fun~!"

You nodded.

"Yeah, baby... Uhh, Mina’s gonna join us now... like you and me, us..."

"Mhm! I told her she could, I mean, you didn’t seem to mind when Nayeon was actively touching herself to us..."

"You’re right... I love you so much..."

Momo smiled, knowing she made the right choice, both for herself, for you, and for the both of you combined. Knowing that, you and Momo look forward to whoever else that would be interested in joining your little circle here.

You and Momo shared another sweet and loving kiss as she straddled your lap. Just then, you both heard a knock at the door. You stood up, walked over and opened it. There stood Mina in a white tank top, a tight blue jacket and a short yellow skirt. She presented her phone to you, a message already typed out to who you presumed to be the idol she slept with a while back.

Mina: hey, i dont think we should see each other anymore

Mina: sorry, i found someone better

Your gaze met hers as you brought her in for a passionate kiss. As you did, you brought your finger to the send button and pressed it. As the kiss broke, you brought Mina in to see Momo and the two sat on the couch together and faced you.

"Wait, what’s happening now?"

"You know~"

[Let me know if you want a part two or if you want me to make this a long running story. And let me know who else you'd want to see a fic about.]

[hearts4chriss]

Slice of Pizza.

Horny!Chris + Jake’s!little sister

prompt: your filming with ur brother Jake and the sturniolo triplets ur meeting for the first time, you and Chris had already been secretly talking behind their backs, he finally gets to meet you in person. After the videos over he offers to take you home and he can’t resist

Contains: public teasing, horny Chris, pet names (ma, mama, sweetheart??, baby, good girl, my girl, princess), m!oral receiving, unprotected sex ( wrap before u tap ), doggy , dirty talk, phat ass reader, creampie yktv

a/n- a lot of ppl wanted this one hope u like :)) ALL CREDS DUE TO ANYONE WHO INSPIRED ME ILYSM !! ( tags ran out )

fuck fuck fuck fuck

Today was the day.

My brother Jake and I were collaborating with the sturniolo triplets, and I was so so nervous.

The main reason is that I was talking too one of them, Chris sturniolo.

We’d been talking for a little over a month and I was actually gonna meet him, but the thing is.

His brothers and my older brother Jake have no idea we’ve been talking.

let alone how much of a freak he is, as well as I am.

We’ve sent each other, images and texts and said things but I was going insane over meeting this man.

I had decided to reach out to one of my brothers friends and ex Tara fucking yummy.

my baby💞🫂

Tara help me, yk how I’ve been talking to Chris?

I’m fucking meeting him tdy bc Jake and I are collabing w the triplets.

taraa💋

baby you’ll be okayyyy

he wants you so bad trust

Chris is gonna beg to fuck you js wait 😛😛

My cheeks grew a pink hue just thinking of that, it was obviously Chris is very attractive and I’d love to have him fuck the absolute shit out of me.

so there I sat in my room wearing this outfit praying too impress him.

A white mini skirt and a fitted skims crop tank pushing my tits up even more highlighting my figure as I threw a grey zip up over it.

I walked downstairs being greeted with my brother.

Finally, took all day. Jake rolled his eyes and I stuck my tongue out

shut up come on I wanna meet these kids. I chuckle and he raised an eyebrow at me but didn't utter a word as we hoped in the car and began driving too the location.

We got there pretty quickly and I thankfully hadn't seen a text from chris today which calmed my nerves, but it was until I saw him standing outside of my car along with matt and nick.

I quickly got out the car.

holy- shit. was all I could utter under my breath at the 3 same faced men.

Matt had tattoos which i'd always loved and he was fairly attractive.

Nick also had tattoos and he was absolutely adorable I could see us becoming close.

Chris.

The one of three i'd been "sexting" and oh my fuck he was so attractive.

He had a small stubble but not too much, his pink plump lips i'd been dying too kiss and lord the all grey- I could see his dick outline was he not wearing boxers??

wow kid ur short. Chris chuckled reaching in too give me a hug

hey baby, I finally get too meet your fine ass. He whispered low enough in my ear so I could feel a wetness grow in my panties seeping from my cunt.

Hey chris! we wanna hug her too! Nick rolled his eyes pulling me in for a hug.

ur so pretty holy shit- nick said softly and i smiled giving him a thank you.

Why am I last? Matt rolled his eyes playfully and I gave him a tighter hug than the rest.

Alright, can I have my sister back? My older brother basically emerged from his tesla and they all gave me a smile and we piled into the car as we pulled out foods from, McDonalds, a pizza place, Wendy's and more.

I sat in the passenger seat and Chris in the driver whilst nick matt and jake were in the back and he started the intro

“Hey guys welcome back to another video, this time I’m actually In my car, I’m joined by…”

Y/n Webber, the better sibling. I give the camera a wave and Jake rolls his eyes at me

“And also this collab was highly requested so…”

“Nick, Matt and Chris are with us today the sturniolo triplets!” As we all clapped for a bit.

"So today we are gonna be eating a bunch of our favourite foods and just talking and yeah that’s it!" I smiled.

"McDonald’s first?" Chris asked and everyone nodded as we each grabbed fries.

The video was super funny, Chris kept making me and everyone else laugh as well as nick and Matt attacking him it made the whole thing better. Until…

"Alright last thing?" I asked and everyone nodded

I opened the pizza box letting everyone grab a piece, I watched how Chris’s almost slipped so I helped him.

"They weren’t wrong, you are the clumsiest one". I let out a soft laugh and he rolled his eyes

"Yeah yeah". Chris chuckled and I held up the pizza for him as he looked me in the eyes, god I felt something. As he shook his head slowly trying to get a bite he managed to do so after about 7 seconds.

"Is it good bro? "Matt asked him and I let out a laugh as well as nick and my brother

"Shut up Matt". Chris spoke in a monotone and everyone laughed at that as if he wasn’t just fucking teasing me, so I decided to get him back.

"Guys it’s kinda hot-" I say unzipping my jacket Chris’s eyes follow my hand on the zipper

"Right I was gonna say".. Nick chuckles eating his pizza.

I take off my hoodie leaving my tank top as is my tits sitting perfectly upright and I noticed Chris’s eyes and I smirked continuing to eat my pizza occasionally licking the grease off my fingers looking him in the eyes.

Paybacks a bitch huh

little did I know, Chris was a fucking freak

"what did you say too my brother to even allow me to be alone with you". I let out a laugh and he chuckled pulling me onto the couch.

"Im good with words baby. He gave me a small wink before pulling me onto his lap for a kiss".

"Mmm this was well worth the wait". Chris mumbles in between kisses before grabbing my ass making me gasp as he slipped his tongue into my mouth as they played together.

He moved me on his lap, groaning as my clit rubbed on his growing boner.

"Fuck- I need ur mouth so bad" - Chris rested his head on my shoulder before tapping my ass signaling me to get up.

I got on my knees and leaned up pulling down his sweatpants along with his boxers watching his cock spring out and my eyes grow wide.

The length of it wasn’t even describable, let alone the girth, the tip was a dark pink and the veins going up the side had my panties dripping.

"you gonna suck me off or keep staring because I love the sight baby". Chris smirked biting his lip down at me and I wrap my hand around him and he moaned softly.

"baby.. please I need you- been waiting so long for you to do this" - he pleaded, almost in a whiny voice of need for me and I’d been waiting to do this.

I kiss his tip first before spitting on his cock stroking him and he throws his head back on the couch cushion.

I wrap my lips around his cock hollowing my cheeks as I began to suck him off sloppily and his hand gravitated towards my hair.

"oh fuck- just like that" - he moaned softly his eyes fluttering shut his mouth slightly agape as his chest heaved as he felt my plump lips wrap around him beginning to deep throat his dick

"oh shit ma- feels so fuckin good" - he shudders on his words as his eyes open looking down at me sucking his cock, the sound of my gagging on him were enough to make him squirm, Chris’s large hand on my head guiding me while running it in my hair.

Sucking Chris off was an experience I’d never forget and the fact I was making him feel so good whilst doing it only made my thighs clench together with anticipation, needing his cock buried inside me.

his hips occasionally thrusting allowing his tip to hit the back of my throat aggressively knowing I’d be sore tomorrow.

"F-fuckk love that pretty mouth on my dick" - he shudders when my nose presses against his lower abdomen as I deep-throat him having to hollow my cheeks due to his size.

Chris always told me he loved sloppy head and that’s exactly what I was giving him, salvia and his pre cum was running down my chin whilst spit bubbles formed on the corners of my mouth and my mascara was sweating off from the tears in my eyes.

"God you look so fucking pretty sucking me off baby" - he praised, breaths in between each word pulling on my hair slightly tighter as we made eye contact and he moaned at the sight.

"there’s my girl, keep ur eyes on me, wanna see that pretty face- shit" - Chris tried to maintain eye contact with me as best he could, but the way I was looking at him alone made him cum deep in my mouth filling it to the brim and a deep moan as he came.

Chris’s cum smeared along my lips as I swallowed it and getting up off my knees and he smiled.

"C’mere, I gotta stretch you out". Chris’s fingers pressed against my panties and I moaned softly at the touch and he chuckled.

"Hold on baby, you’ll thank me later, trust me". He smirked sliding two of his fingers inside my sopping cunt making me squeal.

"Shit Chris" - I moaned as he held me by my waist on his lap stretching me out for a bit.

"hold on ma, I don’t want you to get hurt". He kissed my cheek curling his fingers making me moan in his ear.

"You feel stretched out?" He rubs my back and I nodded

"I need words princess". Chris spanked my ass and I jolted.

"Yes yes! I do, please Chris- please fuck me" - I beg and he halts his movements sliding his fingers out of me.

"On all 4s for me and strip". He taps my ass and I do so getting on the couch pealing my panties and skirt off along with my tank top allowing me to be bare for him.

"Your so beautiful, gonna fuck this pussy so good" - he pulled his sweats down fully positioning himself behind me rubbing his cock between my folds making me whimper with frustration and his hand came down smacking my ass.

"Patience baby, such a needy girl". Chris shakes his head before gripping my hips pushing himself inside me making my back arch at the girth and sudden sharp pain from the stretch.

"Chris I-it’s not gonna fit" - I cry out and he massages my hip reassuringly.

"shh it’s okay just tell me when, take ur time". He whispered, I took some deep breaths as I felt my body finally adjust to him.

"Y-you can move now" - I sigh deeply and he holds my hips beginning to thrust slowly at first.

"Oh fuck- m’faster" - I moan peering behind my shoulder and he gives me a sly smile before picking up the paste making my jaw hang open as his hips came in contact harshly with my ass.

"shit- ur so tight ma" - Chris groaned his hands grip my ass occasionally letting go to give it a slap rubbing over the soft skin.

"oh god- ur so deep Chris" - i drop my head breathing heavily before he grips my hair thrusting harder.

"huh? I wanna hear that again". He holds his grip firmly waiting for me to respond as I’m dazed out on his cock.

"f-fuck! Your so- deep" - I moan in between words shuddering in his grasp as he releases his grip from my hair gravitating towards my hips again.

"that’s a good girl" - Chris praised rutting his hips into mine, the sound of our bodies connecting and my moans and heavy breathing along with his filled the empty room creating a sex aroma

"shit Chriss" - I dragged out moaning as he arched my back making his cock reach depths I don’t think we’re possible before he paused.

"W-what are you doing?!" I whimper in frustration and he shushed me.

"I wanna watch you fuck yourself on my cock can you do that for me?" He whispers into my neck, tickling my skin, his raspy voice going to my core.

I positioned myself on my forearms arching my back beginning to move my hips back and forth on his dick and he moaned in response holding my hip for comfort.

"fuck- keep throwing that shit back on me ma" - Chris shuddered, biting his lip at the sight, my moans shooting to his throbbing cock as well as my moans fueling his ego and filling his ears

"fuckk yes- feels so good- I cried out". clenching my fists at the pleasure and the angle his dick was hitting, the tip feeling on my g spot made me shake each time.

Chris was in heaven, just the sight of this could've made him cum inside me.

"shit- there you go baby- love that ass" - he lets out a deep groan laying a smack across my cheeks making me squeal as he rubs over the soft skin as I continued fucking myself on his cock, picking up the pace, our breathing syncing picking up.

"oh shitt- yes yess!" I squirm and shake ever so slightly as his tip kisses my most sensitive spot.

"Looks like I found it". He mumbles to himself before grabbing my hips beginning to thrust his own into mine making my jaw hang open whilst only heavy breathing comes out

"shit- fucked you speechless?" He lets out a breathy moan and I can’t help but mimick his actions because he quite literally fucked me speechless.

"God you take me so well" - sound so pretty on my cock- he lays a harsh smack to my ass making me squeal out as I close my walls around him.

"Chris I-I’m gonna cum" - I turn my head to the side seeing his facial expression as my breath picks up fists clenched as his hand rubs my clit.

"come on baby give it to me" - he praises his fingers play with my pussy overstimulating it as I cried out Chris’s name repeatedly until I creamed his cock.

He pulls out painting white ropes on my back giving me a second to catch my breath.

"You okay?" Chris pants pulling me onto his lap.

"yeah I’m okay- that was- well worth it". I smile pushing the hair sticking to his forehead away.

All over a slice of pizza huh.

Shut up Chris. I roll my eyes as he presses kisses to my shoulder

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