#I nearly cried at both of these things lol

[aroandawkward]

I get so emotional thinking about the kids who will grow up knowing words like aromantic and asexual...

I visited a junior school (for ages 7-11) the other day and they had a display of pride posters including one for ace! My 13 year-old neighbour identifies as aroace and has told her parents!

I get so emotional thinking about the aspec kids who will grow up knowing that those identities are an option, knowing that it's a valid way of existing in the world, knowing that it's okay if they don't ever feel (a particular kind of) attraction.

[angelltheninth]

that sukuna and yuji alpha post was foul!...and I LOVED it, what would they do if they came home from work and they're omega's stomach was slightly swollen and they could hear two heartbeats inside of the omega ??? lol like what a way to find out someones pregnant

I'm so happy people liked the omegaverse post!

Pairing: Alpha!Yuuji Itadori x Omega Fem!Reader x Alpha!Ryomen Sukuna

Tags: fluff, smut, established relationship, omegaverse, mating bites, pregnancy, kissing, protectiveness, nesting, gentle sex, Sukuna is still rough

A/N: I could do more omegaverse, just tell me who you wanna see.

Alpha!Yuuji almost cries when he hears the second heartbeat when he comes home. He sinks down to his knees and holds you against him, already babytalking to your belly, his scent swirling around you with so much happiness. Meanwhile alpha!Sukuna acts like he's not surprised at all, he knew you would get pregnant the first time he knotted you. But you can tell how happy and proud he is by the change in his scent, even if he tries his hardest to dampen it.

When you sleep alpha!Yuuji likes to rest his head on your stomach. It doesn't matter how big the babybump is or if he can hear the heartbeat, he wants to wake up with your sweet scent amplified and your hands in his hair, telling him to move just a little but he really wants to be even closer. Don't even try to get alpha!Sukuna away from you when you sleep, he's spooning you from behind and holding his hands against your stomach protectively. He doesn't want to come off as soft, but this is the first baby he made in so many years, he will protect it and you.

If you have sex while you're pregnant then alpha!Yuuji won't knot you again even if you ask him too. He'll be so gentle when having sex that you almost cry at the fact that you landed such a caring and soft alpha as your mate. Alpha!Sukuna isn't nearly as gentle. He acts almost like he's trying make you pregnant while you're pregnant. There's no stopping him when he catches your scent, the hormones, all amplified now that you're pregnant, he will knot you even if he's not in rut and you're not in heat.

Both alpha!Yuuji and alpha!Sukuna want you to show both your mating bites when going out, no matter which version you're with. When you're pregnant they both feel like you could you all the extra protection you can get. No alpha can come close to you without one of your mates taking over and getting protective. The level of violence that ensues will warry though. Someone could end up in a hospital and won't be you or your mates.

Alpha!Yuuji takes over a lot of chores as you get further along. Every morning he pushes his nose against his mating bite and bites it lightly, the pressure making you throb in such a pleasant way. He will have sex with you if you need it but first he wants to take care of things around the house. Alpha!Sukuna hovers around you a lot more when you're further along. The only time he bites you is when he's balls deep inside of you, he is a bit selfish still, he wants to feel good too. At the same time he will also kiss you every time he feels you melt against him and call him your alpha.

If you're feeling lonely alpha!Yuuji will throw as much of his clothes on the bed and let you nest there any time you want. He won't complain even if you walk up to him and ask for the shirt he's currently wearing. Yeah, just take it, right off his body. On the other hand alpha!Sukuna likes it when you cuddle up to him in search of his scent. He'll hold you but you have to come to him first, you kiss him, ask him to take you to bed he will be there for you, covering you in his scent all you want.

[theragethatisdesire]

aot men as dads - headcanon!! some 18+!!

includes: eren, jean, reiner, & levi

i'm still working on some full-fledged one-shots and parts of my series', but i'm nannying for the summer and have BABY FEVER. please enjoy my little headcanons of my fav aot men as dads <3

DISCLAIMER: some of this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

Eren

ok but eren is such a cringe dad lol

buys himself all of the #1 Dad! merch. he’s got mugs, tshirts, hats, all of it, and all of it went on his credit card.

10000% a girl dad. loves all the little dresses and bows; he puts your daughter’s hair in its first bun, nearly tears up when she points at his matching hairstyle and babbles “like da-da!”

you have to parent eren as much as the children. when you turn the corner into the living room where he’s supposed to be having “quiet time” with your toddler only to find that they’re buried in a pillow fort and eren’s signed his own name in crayon on the wall next to your daughter’s scribblings. “babe, we can just repaint it! she’s being creative.”

loves when you’re pregnant. after your first, eren keeps a calendar on the wall marking off the days until it’s safe for him to fuck you again, fuck a baby right back into you. already has a breeding kink before your first. develops a lactation kink after.

TERRIFIED (and i mean terrified) of hurting your little angel. has absolutely zero concept of “cry it out”; if he hears his baby crying, he’s sprinting into the next room, kissing a nonexistent boo-boo.

refuses to admit it but he has no backbone when it comes to your daughter wanting literally anything. she wants it, she gets it.

favorite thing in the world is matching outfits. favorite. “babe, where’s her green hoodie? i’m wearing mine today for the park!” “of course it matters, we have to match! on that note, where’s yours?”

lets your daughter use his hair to learn how to braid. usually has a few pink hair ties or glittery clips sticking out of it when you come home from a mom’s night out.

really big on your baby getting to see the world. drags you on vacation to any place he can think of, even as you try to explain to him that she can’t form any long term memories yet. “but baby, she’ll have pictures. how many kids in her class can bring a picture of them at the eiffel tower to their first show-and-tell?”

accidentally ruins santa and the tooth fairy for your daughter. cries harder than she does over it.

aggressively vets babysitters. ends up settling for a nursing student in the labor & delivery school who’s the oldest of seven children and probably more knowledgeable about child development than both of you combined, but he’s still suspicious.

wants to watch while you push, watch his baby come into the world. you’ve never seen a sweeter sight than eren in his scrubs, crying while holding your baby girl.

Jean

most people picture eren as being the roughhousing dad, but it’s jean, and i will die on this hill.

freaks out every time he drops your first boy while throwing him around like a ragdoll, but he’ll never stop because “listen!! he’s laughing!”. when it comes to the rest of them, he’s experienced enough now to tell the difference between a real booboo and an imagined one, and he simply brushes their little pants off caringly before shouting “now you tackle me!”

jean’s got no gender preference for your first, or the rest of your little brood for that matter. he raises them exactly the same, regardless: tough.

it takes him awhile to get used to the concept of babies’ minds. you’ve walked in on him having full-blown arguments with your shrieking toddlers several times. “what’s not making sense? if you let your goldfish ‘swim’ in the toilet, it dies, simple as that.”

plays “bad cop” for you because you’re terrible at it, but he’s always having to turn around and snicker into his elbow in the middle of scolding because your babies get the same little throbbing forehead vein as you when they’re mad

wants a big family, and gets it. you practically have to drag him to get his balls snipped after your fourth, him reminding you that “it’s reversible!” the entire way there.

the newborn phase is his favorite. he’s rarely home for any longer than ten minutes without scooping your most recent addition into his arms, squishing their little cheeks and marveling at their gurgling noises.

the kids never give him anxiety, but when you’re pregnant??? jean’s a wreck.

“do your feet still hurt, love?” “what do you mean you have indigestion? that could be the baby coming!” “of course we can’t have sex, what if we poke its little head?”

definitely the dad that’s got a delivery bag and a backup bag and an emergency third backup of the backup bag in his car at all times. the first week of your third trimester, he starts watching you suspiciously for any signs of labor, even though this is your fourth together. you think you’ve got it down by now, you tell him, but he won’t listen.

always gets the kids to work together on little surprises for you. every mother’s day they wake you up with breakfast, every valentines day your dining room table is covered in handmade cards, every birthday your kitchen is coated in flour from jean and four little ones attempting to bake

SO HARD to drag him out for a date night. he wants to bring them everywhere: the fancy restaurant, the couples' get away trip

jean's that dad standing in the bar, watching the game, beer in hand, with an occupied baby carrier strapped to his chest

wants to watch during delivery, but he passed out the first go-round, so now he’s content standing up by your head, trying not to turn white as you squeeze his hand hard enough to break.

talks you into just one more on your fourth’s second birthday. “they’re all so big now. don’t you miss it, babe? my baby in your belly? c’mon…” turns out he reversed that vasectomy without telling you

Reiner

another girl dad. hardcore girl dad.

buys his little princess all number of dresses and barbies, is confused when she’s more interested in the baseballs her classmates have.

accidentally raises the most tomboyish, toughest little girl. still babies her, and she hates it.

cries more than you do on your first date night out when you leave her with your mom. forgets to order his entree at the restaurant because he’s watching the baby monitor app on his phone.

definitely the best at splitting baby duties with you. reiner’s up before you most nights when she wakes, grabbing a bottle and cooing at her lovingly even as she screams. you always try to stay awake to watch him on the baby monitor, though, heart melting as his massive arms rock the tiny bundle back to sleep.

all the neighborhood kids love him because of his size. at every cookout, reiner can’t help on the grill because he’s buried in the grass in a little army of toddlers, led by your daughter, shrieking with joy.

always taking pictures. literally always. unflattering ones when you fall asleep breastfeeding, candids at the zoo, eighteen identical pictures of the lock of hair from her first haircut clogging up his camera roll.

can’t be the bad cop. literally ever. he just can’t say no to his little princess, can’t break her precious little heart by telling her that throwing her food onto the floor is bad.

takes your daughter to mommy & me classes with him

DILF DILF DILF. all the moms in the classes swoon over him and gossip about him when he’s not there; much to your annoyance, reiner never notices, insisting that they’re his “mommy friends”.

always sporting a little bit of glitter on his face or a sticker on his back from your daughter

coming from a fatherless background, reiner nearly kills himself trying to be a constant presence in your daughter’s life (you have to remind him that he has to rest too)

never misses an open house night at school, even if it nearly gets him fired. coaches all of her sports teams. literally almost cries when she makes her first soccer goal. actually does cry when she tells you the boy sitting beside her in class called her his girlfriend. full-blown breakdown on her first day of school, so bad he has to stay home from work.

the absolute BEST through your pregnancy and delivery. always cooking your craving of the week, constant foot and back rubs, stays up all night with you for the three days before the birth when you’re just too swollen and miserable to sleep.

holds your hand through the entire delivery, gets in the doctors’ way when they’re performing checkups because “i’m her father, i need to know what’s going on”

Levi

levi never pictured himself as having children, but when your little surprise arrives, blinking up at levi with his own grey, owlish eyes, levi can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

very easily irritated with anyone asking questions about your home life.

when his coworkers ask for your newborn’s name, levi simply says “child.” are you two trying again? “why the fuck do you need to know?”

super overprotective. your baby waves at someone in the supermarket, and levi’s leaning down to explain (in words your eight-month-old can’t yet understand) stranger danger.

totally one of those parents that goes half-crazy trying to get their child into the top-notch, snobby preschool in town.

“we’re not wasting his intelligence on the public school”

levi grew up with basically nothing, so he goes all out buying the best baby products on the market. $2,500 strollers, researching “best baby toys for development”, the whole nine yards.

100% spends months trying to get your child to make a game out of picking up his own toys after playtime, but it never works.

has a meal plan for your child to “optimize nutrition” that you have to sneak around to give your baby little chocolates and junk snacks.

“why are there pringles in his playtime bag? they have no nutritional value.”

vets anyone that comes around your child, even other children. “no more playtime with that evan kid. he’s always got a cold or something.”

he’s always been a light sleeper, but once you have your child, levi snores beside them watching kids’ cartoons on the tv like you’ve never seen him, even drooling as his head lolls, arm tucked tight around your little one.

learned everything he could about labor and delivery beforehand

you almost killed him in the delivery room as he explained each medical detail of your labor symptoms to “reassure” you. he finally got the hint when you threatened to decapitate him.

he thinks it’s shameful, but watching you be a mother turns. him. on. 

wants to take you right there when he catches you breastfeeding, watches you read a bedtime story, spin your child around laughing. you’re just so naturally good at it and it makes him love you all the more, all that love going straight between his legs.

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | y’all accidentally adopt a kid

♡ fandoms; Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (original + 2006), Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡cw; parenthood (?), mentions of violence

♡notes; i work with toddlers all day yet still somehow get baby fever- so here’s this i guess lol.

i can’t see Brahms as a dad so skipped out on him this time, Vincent is iffy too but we might come back to him

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Micheal Myers

> micheal never wanted to be a father before he met you

> he knows for a fact he has something terribly wrong with him

> and while it never bothered him…it was far too dangerous to pass on

> but the way you light up when little kids on the street wave to you

> how you talked about building a family when you got drunk and sappy

> and how soft and gentle you were holding your friend’s baby…

> he knew you’d be the perfect parent, good enough to balance any bullshit he was bring to the table

> so it’s maybe not a complete accident when he stalks into the house with a banged up stroller out front

> the baby is crying, his parents passed out from some shit they snorted in the living room

> it makes his job easier when he slits their throats, and he’s sure as hell not sympathetic

> not that he ever is

> he follows the cries upstairs- a tiny little boy is wailing in his crib

> but he stops and stares at Micheal, blue eyes wide as he looms in the door

> at first Micheal thinks the racket it going to start again and braces for the scream

> but the boy reaches for him eagerly instead, making grabby hands and squealing

> it takes a bit of snooping but Micheal finds some paperwork after he’s secured the child in a carrier

> Miles. The boy’s name is Miles, and he’s ten months old- just tiny for his age

> you think he’s fucking with you when he sets a baby carrier on your table that night

> “…that’s Miles.” He mutters and walks away

> you’re pissed but you can’t say you have anything but an urge to protect this tiny boy

> he has red hair, and light freckles and the sweetest disposition

> he’s perfect, surely Micheal wouldn’t just steal a child…not without good reason

> and you notice Micheal still lingering, watching you both

> you try not to smile

> “…well. Gonna help me find somewhere he can sleep or not?”

Thomas Hewitt

> when Charlie brings in the little girl, Luda Mae is beyond excited

> she had no idea the couple she’d sent down their road had a baby

> her dark curls and chubby legs and ruddy pink cheeks remind her so much of Thomas at that age too

> not too far off from one if she’s got it right

> she’s thinking selfishly, she’s always wanted a daughter

> but Thomas’ eyes go so wide when you both walk in

> he’s in awe of the tiny lil thing sleeping against his mama’s shoulder

> he won’t hold her, terrified of hurting her

> but you’re eager to take her for a bit and he gets real close, chin hooked on your shoulder so he can inspect her closely

> she’s all giggles as she touches his mask

> and you’re nearly in tears when she snuggles up against you

> “…yknow…i’ve been thinkin. i’m much closer to grandmama age than mama age now”

> you say yes before Luda can finish her ask - there was nothing you wanted more than a child with Thomas

> he’s hesitant, but he already adores her

> you have no way of knowing her name, so what you should call her is a bit of a hot topic for a few days

> Charlie wants to name her Charlotte because he’s a self centered bastard , and Luda Mae has about a thousand suggestions that come from baby books decades older than you

> but you let Thomas decide

> Audrey Mae Hewitt is what he chooses

> Audrey from a book he read

> Mae from his mama

> and it suits her perfectly

Bubba Sawyer

> “hey cook! look what i got!”

> Drayton about beats Choptop in the plate when he sees him carrying a toddler under his arm like a log

> but he’s kind of impressed such a scrawny dirtbag can carry a chunky kid like that

> the little boy is a healthy weight for two or so, with lil chipmunk cheeks that dimple when he grins

> and the cutest damn mullet you’ll ever see

> Drayton is getting too damn old for this, and there’s only one person he trusts even a minuscule amount in the house

> so he just. hands him to you when you walk into the front room

> “congratulations, it’s a boy”

> you’re confused but excited

> and a bit concerned with how he and Bubba will feel once the man gets home

> a kid is a big commitment- and a man that wears people’s faces can be scary

> but Bubba immediately squeals and beelines for the little one when he staggers in

> they both tilt their heads curiously before the boy tries to climb up his leg

> when he picks him up, the boy gives a huge belly laugh, kicking his legs

> you choose his name- politely declining your boyfriend’s brothers’ insistence on Lil Choppy or Drayton II

> Jedediah Junior sounds perfect to you - little JJ

[rabbittf2x]

how would the mercs make the reader flustered???? or reader makes the mercs flustered, doesn’t really matter lol. thanjk you

Mercs make Reader flustered

Includes: Scout, Demoman and Medic

Scout💖

You held a clipboard, reading through a contract Miss Pauling gave you when Scout entered the room. You looked up from your work at the sound of your name rolling off his tongue

“How you doing?” Scout grinned

You cradled the clipboard to your chest, pressing your back against the wall. He set his hand by your head, grinning at you. A blush was soon creeping along your face

“Hey, Scout. How you been?” You chuckled nervously

Scout adored how flustered he got you. It was a huge confidence boost (not that he needed it)

“Better now that I’m talking to you.” He purred

The line was cheesy and cliche, but you couldn’t help but giggle. You covered your mouth with your hand, trying to hide your blush and smile

“Aren’t you cute?” You cooed

Scout flashed a bright smile at that. He leaned in closer as you both laughed softly. You clutched the clipboard tight to your chest, heart hammering at his forwardness

“Y’know, I think you’re pretty cute yourself.” Scout smirked

Demoman💖

You entered the rec room, planning to just pass through, until Demo spotted you. He was super drunk, and apparently in a clingy mood. He cried your name affectionally, nearly falling off his chair

“I missed ye!”

Demoman stumbled over to you, slipping an arm around your waist. He pushed you closer into him, leaning his head on your shoulder

“Hi, Demo! I—I just saw you earlier! Don’t you remember?” You giggled shyly

Demoman hummed in response, hiding his face in your neck. You froze up at the feel of his beard scraping against your soft flesh

“That was ages ago. Plenty of time to miss ye.” He slurred

A smile made its way onto your face as he wrapped his arms around you. “I missed you too.” You squeaked

You had to keep a firm hold on him too. Because he was nearly making you both fall every five seconds

“Oh,” Demoman slurred your name. “Yer so pretty. The things I’d do to you if you let me…”

Your face was instantly on fire. He kissed your neck, gliding his hands up your waist. You tried to sputter out some kind of response, but nothing came

Medic💖

“Hey, handsome.” You flirted

You entered the infirmary, beelining it over to Medic. He grinned as you came in close, gliding your hands up his chest

“Me, handsome? Look at you! You look lovely today, liebling!” Medic exclaimed

He slipped his arms around your waist, placing a sweet kiss to your cheek. He pulled you as close as he could against him, beaming that big smile

“Oh, Medic.” You giggled bashfully. “You’re too sweet to me.”

“Nonsense, dear.” He brought a gloved hand to touch your flushed cheek. “I love you!”

Goddammit. He had no right to make you feel all flustered like this. You had to advert your eyes, face completely red

“I love you too, honey.” You cooed, feeling like a giddy schoolgirl

Medic cradled your cheek tenderly, leaning in for a kiss when you weren’t looking. Your eyes widened, but then fluttered shut at the feel of his lips on yours. Your arms found their way around his neck, as he placed his hands firmly on your back

[carakook]

Bloom. °˖✧✿✧˖°

“I said, don’t. Just shut the fuck up and let me have this. Just one more time, please…”

→ Chapters list ←

⚘4. Spring Is Gone

🔞For Mature Audiences Only🔞

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

⚘Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

⚘Synopsis: After being granted with “closure”, you try to enjoy your last night with Jungkook. It’s an emotional and fucking steamy mess.

⚘Genre:Forbidden love

⚘Word count: 13K+ 🥴

⚘Warnings: 18+ for mature audiences only, MDNI, emotional, mentions of cheating, active cheating, HEAVY smut, mouth spitting, wine kissing (idk if it’s actually called this but it’s what I have always called it LMAO), crying during sex, emotional sex, EMOTIONAL EVERYTHING YOU WILL CRY I AM WARNING YOU, grief, breaking up (sort of?), panic/anxiety attacks, alcohol, stealing (lol it’s kinda cute you’ll see,) making love (different from fucking), sort of rough, unprotected sex (always be careful, Y/N is on BC!), SAD JUNGKOOK I REPEAT SAD JUNGKOOK!!!! let me know if I miss anything there is a lot in this chapter.

⚘Disclaimer: This story in no way reflects the characters of those who are mentioned. It is pure fiction and for entertainment purposes only. Please don’t take it seriously. Nothing is real in this story.

⚘A/N: The long awaited chapter. This is a long one. I cried. A lot. Holy shit? It’s actually so sad lol but also has some good smut. This isn’t the last chapter, as I said before this is a full on fanfic, I also have it on Wattpad but it gets barely any reads so if you are interested in that let me know. After this chapter, things get very… drama filled? Idk a good word for it lol. I hope you enjoy, and I’m sorry in advance if you cry. I highly recommend listening to the songs, each of them have a place in every chapter which is why I list them lol. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy. Love you.❤️

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :

♪Merry Go - DPR Ian

♪Gimmie Love - Joji

♪The Astronaut - JIN

♪Dope Lovers - DPR Ian

♪sex money feelings die - Lykke Lie

♪Angel - The Weeknd

♪Nerves - DPR Ian

♪505 - Arctic Monkeys

♪I Love You So - The Walters

♪Apocalypse - Cigarettes After Sex

♪Cry - Cigarettes After Sex

✧━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━✧

Since you both agreed on enough of the heavy shit, you spend time together. The mood is heavy for some time, almost awkward, which is why you break out the several bottles of wine you bought this week in an attempt to cope with the end of you and your flower. You’d much rather drink it with him anyway.

You can always buy more.

The wine helps. After you’ve both had a glass, it feels less strained. You continue eating pizza and watching whatever sappy drama is on TV. He picks up on his rant, starts explaining how sex is definitely comparable to pizza; sex creates life, and without sex, we wouldn’t have discovered pizza. Makes total sense. It’s stupid, but he has a point—a very Jungkook thing to think up.

By the time you’re both three glasses deep, you’re a bit wine-drunk. He holds his liquor much better than you do, but you can tell he’s feeling all fuzzy inside. You check your phone as he sits sprawled out on your couch, taking up almost the entire damn thing with his bulky ass. It’s nearly 11:30 pm… around the time he should probably go home.

You glance at him, debating whether to subtly kick him out or not. You don’t want to, god no. It literally makes you sick thinking about it. But you shouldn’t let him stay either, should you? You’re supposed to end this. This was the last night.

But you see how content he looks—like a big, overgrown spoiled dog with a belly full of treats, relaxing next to his favorite person.

You did say one last night… technically the night isn’t over. And he shouldn’t drive in this state, really, if anything, it’s just for his safety…

So you nudge his leg with your foot, and he turns his head lazily towards you, arches a brow, “Hm?”

“Sleep over?”

Oh, he fucking grins. His dimples on show, his eyes crinkling up adorably, and his big bunny like teeth saying hi.

Because what you don’t realize is he wasn’t going to leave. Fuck no. You said one last night, and he was going to milk that for everything it was. No way in hell was he going to go home tonight. If he’s being frank, that’s why he drank three glasses of wine. He didn’t need it. But he knew he could use it as a loophole to staying the night. You wouldn’t let him drive drunk.

He knows damn well what he’s doing, and he’s elated that you offered to let him stay. It means you want him here.

Even after all the bullshit, you still want him here. You want to prolong it, too.

“Hell yeah.”

He winks and then leans up a bit to stretch, causing his shirt to lift and give you the most indulgent peak of his stomach. You shamelessly stare, and he absolutely notices, lifting his arms a bit higher just to give you a better look.

He loves it when you look at him like that.

But then he stands up, casually grabs his car keys from the coffee table, as if he isn’t fucking teasing you.

Fuck. The wine is definitely kicking in. The warm fuzzies in your tummy are spreading elsewhere.

“Gonna go grab some stuff from my car then, make sure it’s locked, I’ll be right back.”

You hum in response and lean back into the couch. Watch him as he walks out the door, and find comfort in the fact that you know he’s coming back… even if it’s the last time.

Jungkook is doing his best not to let his mind wander to the more damning thoughts as he walks out of your complex and into the parking lot. Because he feels the opposite, no comfort at all. His anxiety is spiked now that you’re out of sight. What if you don’t let him in when he makes his way back to you? What if you change your mind about the sleepover? What if you decide you hate him?

Not only that, but he feels like he’s wasting precious time. As if the five minutes he will be away from you (barely) are irreplaceable and he’s just wasting them. It’s literally the end of the world… he shouldn’t be wasting time.

But that’s just his anxiety speaking. In truth, he doesn’t actually need the things in his car… but he packed a few things before showing up unannounced—things he wanted to leave you with.

Such as the little Polaroid camera you bought for him months ago, one that you yourself have used every single time you’re together. You always snap little candid pictures of him, sometimes yourself. He finds your fascination with the thing so fucking cute. He uses it, too, of course. He often takes pictures of you without you even knowing it… and you’ve both definitely taken some more raunchy pictures, pictures that he keeps hidden away in a box for when he misses your touch. For his eyes only. They’re priceless to him, probably some of his most prized possessions.

Speaking of those photos, he also packed a box full of them just for you. Pictures you’ve taken of him, of both of you, of anything and everything. He wants you to have them, wants you to be able to look at them when you miss him a little too much. He went through the photos over the last few days of no contact, greedily picked out his favorites, and put them into his own box for the same purpose. But he picked a generous amount out for you, too.

And as corny as it may sound, he packed a few pieces of his clothing. He knows how much you love stealing his shit, especially his shirts. Several are still missing, but he won’t ask for them back. He’Ll gift you with more, made sure to spray his cologne on them too, so that you can smell him on them. He packed his favorite shirt, hoodie, and something he will reluctantly, but willingly, part with. His denim jacket.

All of them are Calvin Klein branded. The shirt is basic, just a black shirt that’s fitted on him but swallows you whole. It’s the one you often steal when you sleep over at his second apartment, but he never let you take it home because it was his favorite. It’s worn in and soft, that’s why he likes it. But it’s yours now, just like him.

The hoodie is the same, basic black, one that you always tried to steal but never succeeded in doing so. It’ll be like a warm hug when you miss him, he thinks. You’ll love it more than he will. You’ll need it more than him on nights that you feel lonely.

The jean jacket isn’t anything special in appearance. It’s dark denim but is lined in that soft wool that keeps you warm and cozy. He wore it often in the cold months, thought it made him look handsome, but also kept him comfy. He’d rather you have it. He wants to keep you warm forever, hold you in his arms and never let go, make sure you never feel cold again… but he can’t exactly do that. So instead, he’ll give you his jacket.

The last thing is one of his chains. God, he knows you love those damn chains. He almost always wears one, silver or gold, depending on the day. And you always make sure to tell him how much you like them. He never really understood it; it’s something so simple. But you swooned for it. After you guys fuck, you’re always touching it, playing with it. Even when you guys aren’t fucking, you seem to have the impulse to touch it. Maybe it’s a girl thing, he doesn’t know. But he’s giving you one since you liked it so much.

Definitely a girl thing.

He also brought the bottle of perfume you dropped on his floor that night you stormed off… he was going to give it back. Return it to its rightful owner. But as he’s grabbing the bag full of goods out of his car… he impulsively takes it out. Wants to keep it. Wants to be able to smell you, too. He’s sure you won’t miss it.

You won’t miss that perfume as much as he’s going to miss you.

He quickly grabs the bag of stuff, nearly dropping it as he grows more restless because he’s not with you right now. You’re too far away, and every single second counts tonight.

So he rushes back into your complex building, nearly full-on sprinting back to your door.

As he lets himself back in, you’re in the exact same position. Sitting comfy on the couch, eyes on the TV, your wine glass a bit more empty now. Thank fuck.

He wasn’t even gone for more than four minutes. And yes, you did notice, you didn’t like it. But you knew he’d come back. So you waited. Wasn’t a big deal.

He’s just dramatic, for good reason of course. You can see the unease written all over his face as he pads his way back towards you, sets the bag next to your couch. He doesn’t disclose what’s in it and you don’t ask, you just assume it’s the bag he usually keeps in his car for impromptu nights like this.

He doesn’t want to present these little gifts to you yet… because he feels like that’s what’s going to really finalize it. So he’ll wait a little longer.

Would put it off forever if he could.

He takes a seat next to you, obnoxiously close. Your couch isn’t big, but there’s enough for two people to have a comfortable distance from each other. He doesn’t care. He wants to make sure he’s touching you in some way, so he nearly squishes you as he sits down as casually as ever and slings one of his arms on the back of your couch so that his fingertips rest on your shoulder.

He has an almost jittery energy about him right now. Obviously, emotions are heavy; it’s your last night together. It’s kind of hard to act totally ok and normal when you’re both well aware that this is the last night. But even then, somethings a bit off.

You study him for a moment, notice how he’s running his teeth over his lip ring again, how his leg is bouncing up and down a bit even as he tries to mimic a relaxed position on the couch. Maybe he’s anxious?

He is. However, that’s not what this is all about. He wants to kiss and touch you so badly it hurts. But now he’s unsure if he’s allowed. He doesn’t know what’s on and off limits tonight, and he doesn’t want to jeopardize your time together by fucking it up and making unwanted advances.

Overthinking. He wishes he didn’t do that. But he doesn’t even realize it’s happening until after things are said and done, doesn’t know how to stop it.

You assume maybe it’s just nervous energy thanks to the impending sense of doom you both feel. You feel similarly… but you hide it better.

More wine would help, you think.

So you lean forward and grab the bottle which is half empty, this is the second bottle of tonight. You top off each of your glasses as Jungkook watches, and you take a sip.

His eyes stay glued to your lips. He loves your lips. Loves all of you, but especially your lips. He thinks that will be one of the things he misses the most. How soft and pillowy they are, how they’re a bit rosey in color, how they taste, how they pout out a bit when you drink wine, how wine stains your lips so prettily, how they feel wrapped around his—

Yeah. Fuck it. One last night.

“Gimmie some.”

You glance at him and arch a brow, wonder if he’s referring to the wine… or maybe pizza? You literally just topped his wine glass off. He’s being weird.

“I just topped you off?”

He shakes his head, “Nah, I want yours.”

You scoff at him because now he’s just being childish. But he’s looking at you so expectantly, almost stubbornly, as if he’s asking for something more than the wine he’s demanding.

And he is. He doesn’t even really know what though. He’s being greedy, wants your wine because your lips touched the glass, because remnants of your spit might have melted into the wine after taking sips. He doesn’t want his own damn wine.

He wants to be greedy tonight. It’s not like he has anything to lose, he’s already lost it all.

So he reaches over and takes the wine glass from you, gets a bit impatient when he sees you aren’t gonna give it to him right away. He takes a slow sip, places his lips in the same exact spot yours have been every time you’ve taken a drink. It’s ridiculous, really… but he swears he tastes the faintest essence of you on the glass. Closes his eyes, swishes the wine around in his mouth, trying to see if he can taste more of you…

Ok, so, he’s definitely being a bit ridiculous. But fuck, he already feels like he’s going crazy. Can’t really help himself when he is desperately craving any little crumb of you.

You don’t know what to make of this. Part of you is amused, part of you is irritated, because he just stole your damn wine. But you also know there must be more to it, there has to be.

He cracks an eye open, sees you staring at him like he’s crazy, because he kinda is. Only for you, of course. He just swallows the wine and shrugs innocently.

“Yours is better, mine tastes weird.”

You roll your eyes at him because he has the same wine as you do. You can’t figure out what his game is here. So you reach over and take his wine and say, “Yours is literally the same as mine.”

To prove a point you take a sip of his. Just as expected, tastes the exact same as yours. He watches you carefully… gets an idea. An incredibly impulsive,almost intrusive idea.

But again… it’s the last night. And he’s greedy.

You huff at him and point his wine glass (which is now yours apparently) at him as you watch him take a huge gulp out of your glass again.

“Yeah, see, tastes the exact-“

He abruptly grabs the nape of your neck and cups your jaw with his free hand, his thumb coming to rest on your bottom lip and lowering it. He places his lips on yours, waits until your mouth instinctively opens just as it always does for him, and then funnels the wine into your mouth.

Fucking feeding you the wine like a baby bird.

It catches you by surprise at first, causing you to cough a bit and causing the wine to dribble down your chin, but you quickly gulp it down just like he gulps down the little gasp and cough you let out. He kisses you greedily, doesn’t even build up to it before he’s pushing his tongue into your mouth and swirling it against yours, tasting the heady mixture of wine and you. Fuck, you’re his favorite taste.

You don’t protest; of course you don’t. Was definitely a bit bizarre, but also… fuck, that was hot. Was a bit weird but in a super sexy way. You kiss him back, letting out little huffs of air into his mouth as one of your hands also finds the nape of his neck. The other hand automatically rests against his chest, clings to the fabric of his shirt tightly.

You both stay like this as long as possible. The kiss only grows more desperate and aggressive, teeth and tongue clashing beautifully together like thunder and rain. Your soft pants turn into eager breathes at some point, and he knows you need to breathe. But fuck, he wants to stay lip locked with you until he passes out.

This is when you start to second-guess things. Yes, this is the last night together… but knowing it’s ending makes the guilt a bit more prominent. This wouldn’t be ending if it wasn’t wrong, but it is wrong; sleeping with him again just seems so contradictory or maybe even hypocritical.

So you push at his chest lightly, a silent signal for him to slow down. God, he hates the way his stomach lurches. Can’t fathom the idea that you might kick him out right now. Please, god, don’t do this. I’m not a weed, I swear, I’m her fucking flower. I need her one more time, he silently prays even though he’s never been religious or prayed before.

When he pulls back with heavily lidded eyes, you speak up hesitantly, even though you don’t wanna stop, god not at all.

“Kook, we shouldn’t…”

That’s all you say. Because it’s really that simple. You shouldn’t be doing this; you should never have done it at all. But even then, you lack the ability to convince him. Because you want him, one last time. You’re just having a hard time willingly giving in again.

Jungkook knows you well. Knows your body language. He knows that if you truly wanted him to stop, you would’ve been more self assured when speaking. You wouldn’t sound like a meek little mouse, you’d be firm in telling him know. He can see the same thing in your eyes, it’s pure unadulterated want. But maybe you need reassurance, reassurance that one last time is ok, is needed.

You’ve both sinned so much already, one more time won’t change shit.

So his grasp on your jaw firms up a bit, he starts feeling a little too passionate about this. He coaxes your mouth open by smooshing your cheeks a bit before saying,

“Y/N, fucking don’t. Just let us have this, please.”

“But Kook-“

He grunts in frustration. Just as impulsively as he fed you wine kisses, he spits in your mouth. It makes you flinch, makes your pussy clench because fuck it’s so filthy but so hot. So intimate in a sort of fucked up way.

“I said, don’t. Just shut the fuck up and let me have this. Just one more time, please…”

He leans back down and starts kissing you again, licking into your mouth and adding more to the spit he put there moments ago. Doesn’t even give you a chance to protest. He kisses you like he’s going to die if he doesn’t. He’s sure he will. He’ll die a miserable death if he doesn’t love you one more time.

It's a bit harsh, but you know each other enough to know he isn’t trying to be forceful or rude; he’s just desperate. You are too, honestly. You know damn well if you said no and meant it, he would pull away and stop immediately. Your body has always been safest with him. You don’t want to stop, not really. You’re thankful he’s being like this. It’s the push you need to ignore the guilt for a while longer and share your body with him one last time.

When he feels that you’ve melted into him, with no more tension or hesitancy in your body, he pulls away, nipping at your lower lip once and then sucking on it. Then his lips travel down, and he licks the wine staining your chin off before placing sloppy kisses down your neck.

He doesn’t even ask before he starts sucking and licking on your sensitive skin. Not kitten licks, not gentle sucks, no, he’s full-on giving you hickeys, and you know it. You know it’s intentional when you feel him pull back a bit to take a peak, only to lean back in a second later and bite.

The hand on his nape fists into his hair, and your back arches a bit, causing your chest to push against his chest, “Fuck, Kook…”

You should tell him to stop marking you up like this. You don’t like showing up to work or visiting friends with visible hickeys because questions get asked. And as much as you wish you could admit who they’re from, you can’t. No one knows about Jungkook. No one even knows you’re seeing someone right now, and you don’t want to have to come up with some story to cover your ass.

It’s a secret for you too.

But it’s the last night together… and the idea of having his hickeys on your neck, just to remind you a little longer that this was real, he was real, it’s an idea you quite like. Fucking love, actually.

He grunts at you, bites down a little harder, “What? Told you your wine was better…”

You let out a little breathy laugh when he says this, because of course he would play it coy, as if he didn’t just randomly start devouring you. Of course he’d blame it on the damn wine.

That breathy laugh quickly turns into a moan when one of his hands finds your tit, he starts squeezing and groping it through your shirt shamelessly, tweaking your nipple in the way he knows you love. God, he loves your tits. They’re the perfect size for him, he swears. They fit into his palm perfectly, feel like pillows, just like your lips. All of you is just so soft.

He kisses his way down your neck now that it’s all marked up in pretty purple and pink bruises blossoming, much like you do every single time he touches you like this. When he gets to your chest, he looks up at you through his lashes, and then he nearly rips your shirt off of you when he pulls it down.

His eyes leave yours as he looks down at the beautiful pillows on your chest. He just admires them for a moment, as if he’s at an art gallery studying each piece of art. That’s what you are, art. Everything about you inside out is otherworldly beautiful to him, tits included.

At this point, you’re lying down on your couch, legs parted for him. It’s a bit awkward because of how small the couch is, but that doesn’t stop either of you. He doesn’t give a fuck that he barely fits. He’ll make himself fit… just like he’s made himself fit into your life for months.

He wants to fit into your life just one more time, one more night, wants to meld together and tangle your roots so that it’s impossible to untangle them. He knows it’s wishful thinking, but that’s where this is all coming from. He’s not being aggressive and eager and greedy just because he’s horny, no, he’s doing this because maybe, just maybe, if he shows you with his body how much he loves you… how much he needs you… you’ll change your mind one day.

His mouth descends on your left breast, and he starts licking and sucking on your nipple. Your eyes roll back, and your entire body shudders at the sensations, fuck, it always feels like the first time. Before him, men didn’t pay such close attention to your body. Never even had a guy play with your tits before, Jungkook was the first. It was so odd at first, but it quickly became one of your favorite things. Makes you get so wet so fast.

You love how he looks up at you when he does it, his eyes full of asters and stars alike, hearts and moons, lust mixed with love and it’s a dizzying sight. You wonder if this is how you look when you go down on him, if that’s why it unravels him so quickly. You’d understand if so, you wish so badly you could snap a picture of him like this and preserve it.

It’s funny because he’s thinking the same thing. How beautiful you look when he goes down on you, how your eyes mimic his own, and how you have a hard time controlling your facial expressions when the pleasure is too intense. His favorite thing is when you start furrowing your brows and almost pouting at him without realizing it; the little pants and mewls you let out without meaning to, it drives him absolutely insane.

He wants to capture it, too. Fuck, tonight is a night to remember, he wants everything solidified in film. Every single kiss and touch and whisper spoken tonight, he needs to preserve it.

He sucks on your nipple for a few more seconds, his other hand flicking the nipple on your right breast. Wants to get you all worked up for him. he then pulls back, letting go of your tit with a wet pop sound. Lets his hands rest on your thighs and rubs his palms up and down them as he takes you in.

You let out a little whine when he pulls away, but you don’t protest. His pupils dilate heavily as he looks down at you because, holy fuck, you’ve never let him mark you up like this. He doesn’t even like giving hickeys, thinks it’s a bit immature, something meant for college. But seeing you blooming pink and purple from your neck down to your pretty tits? It makes his cock twitch hard in his sweats.

He removes one hand from your thigh, and reaches down to palm himself through his sweats. He squeezes his cock as he takes in your already debauched look. Marked up, tits out, lips swollen, eyes heavy… fuck. You may be what kills him, not heart break.

One last squeeze to his cock to relieve a bit of the pressure, and he lets go of it. He knows you’re getting a bit impatient by how you’re shifting in your spot, but you know he wants to take his time tonight. So you don’t say anything, no matter how much you wanna beg for his dick or his mouth.

He leans over the couch to unzip the bag he brought, grabs the Polaroid, and then readjusts himself between your legs. He sets the camera down on your stomach and brings his hands back to where your thighs are spread prettily for him.

You arch a brow, and he gives you a little smile. He still looks a bit fucked, his eyes black with want and his cock literally tenting his sweats. The smile is much too sweet for what you’re both doing.

“Take as many pictures as you want, there’s a full roll of film in there. Can keep ‘em for when you miss me.”

Now is not the time to cry. Fuck.

You nod at him, grab the camera and keep it close. You wonder if he planned this or if it was a coincidence that it was in his bag. Regardless, you’re thankful. Elated even, that he’s going to let you capture this and preserve it for those nights you doubt he was ever even real. There's no time to be sad now; you can grieve him when he’s gone.

He flicks his tongue over his lip ring as he looks down at you again, there’s so much that he wants to do tonight, but he knows damn well the moment his cock so as much touches you, he’s going to lose control. He needs to lavish you with love and attention first before even thinking of himself.

He grabs the hem of your shirt, gently pulls it over your head. You lay pliant, let him take the lead and do whatever he wants. God, anything for him as long as he keeps looking at you like that, like you’re the reason he breathes.

Next he takes off the pajama shorts you had on, slowly fumbling with them because of the awkward position on the couch. It makes you giggle at him, which makes him giggle at you. Now that you’re both a bit calmed down, not quite as worked up, you realize maybe the couch isn’t the most practical place.

Even then, you take the Polaroid and snap a picture, capturing his bashful smile on camera as he tosses your shorts away. He doesn’t protest; he lets you. Watches as you take the photo it spits out and stare at it lovingly before setting it on the coffee table.

His hands are on your thighs again, and despite the fact you’re nearly butt naked now, his eyes stay steady on your face. He reaches forward, grabs the camera from you, and snaps his photo of you. He focuses the Polaroid specifically on your neck to capture the hickies he left, wants to remember you marked as his. He retrieves the photo after the camera spits it out. He doesn’t look at it yet; just tosses it inside of his bag next to the couch.

At your huff and shy little glare you send him, he chuckles, hands you back the camera, and before you can scold him, he lightly swats your thigh. Then he gets off the couch and picks you up bridal style.

It’s hard to be mad at him when he makes you feel like a princess. You don’t actually mind that he took the picture, as embarrassing as it feels. You know it’ll be for his eyes only.

He easily carries you into your bedroom, kicks the door open, and deposits you on your bed. Wasted no time before he’s taking off his shirt and sweats, and fuck, you swear he’s a Greek god. Perfect, in every way. You could drool every damn time you see any bit of his skin. His broad shoulders, his tiny waist, his subtle and toned thighs, it’s a lethal combination. Any woman who sees him like this surely could keel over at how beautiful he is, how sexy he is.

He gets on the bed with you, and you set the camera on the pillow next to your head. He settles between your thighs once more. He can feel himself starting to get impatient now that you’re both in only your underwear; his cock is still hard. Only getting harder as he stares down at you, looking at how pretty you look with your hard nipples glistening with his spit and your soft thighs spread just for him.

He descends, placing open-mouthed kisses on your tummy. Your hands come to rest in his hair as they’ve done many times because you know you’ll need to hang on. You know where this leads, and anytime he eats you out, it’s an out-of-body experience. The things this man’s mouth can do are unholy, but still feel like heaven.

His eyes stay on you as he kisses his way down to your thighs. He nips at them lightly, causing you to whine. He covers your lower half in kisses, not missing a single ounce of your skin as he lavishes your inner thighs with sweet little declarations of love that just aren’t enough.

You lift your hips ever so slightly, tug on his hair a bit, send him a silent message that says please fucking put your mouth on me before I explode.

He smirks against your skin, looks up at you as he trails his lips upward, “Just feel it, baby, let me love on you.”

You want to roll your eyes at this, but don’t say anything. Just try to regulate your breathing. You know he’s wanting to savor it, savor you. He has every right to.

But he knows what you need; can tell by the way you’re scratching his scalp that you’re itching to feel his mouth on you. And if he’s being honest, he’s growing a bit impatient, too.

So he finally trails his lips past your thighs, onto the mound of your cunt which is still covered by your panties. The moment he sees the wet spot seeping through, smells your arousal, his patience disappears. Suddenly, he’s fucking starving.

He doesn’t even take your panties off before he starts kissing your cunt, sucking on your clit through the fabric. The feeling makes your body nearly jolt, your hips bucking into his face as you tug on his hair and let out an incredibly strained moan. Fuck. So much for taking it slow and dragging it out.

He becomes a man possessed once he tastes you. He’s letting out grunts as he borderline makes out with your panties, suckling the fabric to get every drop of your essence off of them and onto his tongue. It’s genuinely filthy, debauched, but god, it’s hot.

He leans back with flared nostrils and glistening lips, looking like he’s wearing lipgloss. Made specially by you, of course. He nearly rips your panties off and throws them into the pile containing his clothes at the end of the bed.

A coincidence, he tells himself. He’s totally not planning on ‘accidentally’ taking them home with him… not at all.

He leans back down, grabs your thighs, and props them over his shoulders as he maneuvers himself to lay flat on his stomach on the bed, his knees keeping him steady as he presses his face into your pussy.

He inhales you, takes in your scent. So musky and pretty, so uniquely you. He wishes he could bottle it up and wear it as a fucking cologne. He rubs his nose around in it, nudging your clit back and forth, almost as if he’s motor-boating you but instead of your tits, it’s your cunt.

God, it’s lewd. But he can’t get enough.

You already feel yourself becoming a little too turned on but wanna capture this moment. Wanna preserve how fucked he looks when he does shit like this, only ever for you. So you grab the Polaroid with one shakey hand that leaves his hair, and you snap a quick photo. It comes out a bit blurry, but you don’t mind. You place the camera back on the pillow alongside the fresh photo and have to double down on gripping his hair because, holy fuck, this feels so good.

His tongue finds your entrance and starts licking inside, trying to get every last drop of your cream greedily into his mouth. He uses his nose to stimulate your clit, one of the perks of having a big nose. He’s grunting as he licks into your cunt, almost sounds feral doing so. He doesn't even recognize his own voice with the damn noises he's making.

As much as you don’t want to admit it, watching this all unfold has you dangerously close already. Your thighs are quivering on his shoulders, and your toes are curling along his back. The way he’s breathing into your pussy, sucking and licking and nudging it with his nose, fuck, it has you a mess. The noises you’re making you can’t control; you’re starting to sound just as feral as him.

“Mmmph… Koo… gonna cum soon, slow down…”

You babble at him. You wanna cum so bad, but you also don’t want it to stop so soon. If you had one wish at this very moment, it would be that he does this forever. He looks so lovely in between your thighs, licking and sucking you up as if it’s his last meal.

Because it is his last meal. After this night, he’s gonna be starving for eternity without you.

He huffs out a little laugh against your clit, the hot air causing your back to arch and fingers to tighten in his hair; if he doesn’t ease up, your thighs are surely going to crush his damn head.

“Cum then. Fucking give it to me, Y/N. Let me earn it.”

He nearly growls at you before he dives back in with renewed vigor. He replaces his tongue, which was deep in your cunt, with his fingers. He uses his mouth now to suck on your clit. As you look down at him, you’d swear he was kissing it, making out with it, making love with his fucking mouth. The added pressure of two of his long fingers crooking inside of you is quickly bringing you to your end.

But what nearly makes you cum on the spot is the way he starts fucking humping the bed. Acting like a virgin humping a pillow, he moves his hips back and forth on the mattress just for some sort of stimulation to his cock because it started getting so hard it was damn near painful.

He knows how desperate he looks but doesn’t care. Clearly, you enjoy it, judging by the way you start panting, and your pussy starts pulsating and tightening around his fingers. They fuck into you harder, rubbing up against the spongy flesh inside, all while he makes out with your clit.

His eyes open to meet yours, and you’re done for. Seeing that desperation and love in his eyes mixed with the fact he’s fucking humping your bed makes your pussy throb. You begin cumming hard, tugging on his hair as your thighs clasp around his head. He damn near whines into your cunt, the noise only causing vibrations to make it so much more intense for you.

“Nnngh oh shit! Fuck, oh fuck Koo… oh my god, shiiit…”

Your hips buck up into his mouth eagerly; you can’t even control it. Your feet planted on his back, toes curling, thighs trembling around his face, and your face scrunched up in pleasure. You see stars- no- you see an entire fucking galaxy as you cum all over his face. Full of stars, moons, planets, gardens, all of which are full of him and every single fiber of his being.

All for him, just as he is all for you.

He fucks you through it, does his best to prolong it, but he knows he’ll make you cum again on his cock. He is aching to be buried inside of you. He wants to make love to you, not fuck you, he wants to meld your bodies together and become one tonight.

After what feels like forever, your body relaxes, and the spasming of your clit dies down, causing it to become sensitive. He can tell by the way your legs shake and your body jolts when he applies too much pressure with his tongue.

He reluctantly pulls back, licking your juices off of his lips before placing little kisses all over your thighs and pelvis. He looks fucked, his nose and his lips are glistening obscenely in the dim lighting, and his eyes don’t look brown anymore but black.

When your eyes travel downward, you whine at him. His cock is nearly tearing through his underwear, which you now realize he’s wearing your fav, the purple CK’s. There’s a little stain where the head of his cock presses, so much precum, all for you.

He looks down where your eyes are trained, and he snorts at himself. Jesus fuck, he really is acting like a desperate teenager, isn’t he? But he can’t find himself giving a shit. He wants you to know how desperate and unhinged you make him. He can’t say he’s ever been so horny he borderline fucked a mattress, not until now. And it’s all because of you.

He takes off his underwear with shaky hands and tosses them somewhere in your room. Then he settles between your legs again, rubbing up and down your thighs as he takes you in as if it’s the first time.

Your hands come up to his chest, scraping your nails down it slowly, which earns you the most beautiful groan from his lips. He bites down on them, and his cock jumps upward, begging to be touched. So you trail your hands lower until you find his aching length and take it into your hand, start stroking him lazily.

His breathing becomes labored, and his eyes flutter shut. Even just your hand feels so fucking good. His hips jerk forward, seeking more stimulation. Fuck, he can’t get enough.

One of his hands remains on your thigh while the other reaches for the camera. He boldly angles it directly at your cunt, snaps a photo of it, making sure to capture the way your slick folds glisten in the light, along with all of the purple flowers blossoming on your thighs. His tattooed hand is barely in the shot but is visible enough to make it clear it is him in this photo.

He tosses the photo in the same pile his clothes and your panties lay next to the bed, and then angles the camera towards your face and body to take another. He thinks you’re so pretty like this. Cheeks flushed, lips puffy because you always bite them right before you cum, eyes bright with afterglow. You look like an Angel, especially in this moment.

He’s sure you’re an Angel sent from the God he doesn't even believe in.

He snaps another photo and tries to steady his shaky hands because the way you’re stroking his cock feels borderline painful. Too slow; he needs more. Beads of precum drip down his cock as if it’s crying. It may as well be crying for you.

He quickly takes the photo, tosses it in the same pile, and then does the same with the camera without thinking. Is getting way too worked up with how you’re stroking his dick and looking at him like a Greek god.

Because he is one. You’ll say it time and time again.

He leans over your body and settles in between your legs. You remove your hand and wrap your arms around his shoulders, burying your fingers in his hair again. He grinds his cock onto your pussy, coating it in the remnants of your cum and juices, and starts kissing you slowly.

The kiss isn’t like the one with wine; this one is sweet, loving, still desperate, but more patient. His lips work with you in unison, your puzzle pieces coming together once more. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it makes you moan into his mouth, which causes his cock to twitch against your pussy. God, he loves the sounds that you make. Music to his ears, he’d play it on repeat if he could.

He slowly drags the tip of his cock down to your entrance which is well prepared for him, and even more slowly starts thrusting inside of you. He wants to feel you deeply, feel every ripple and ridge of your pussy, every pulse and throb. He wants to catalog it and replay it over and over in his head for when he misses you.

Jungkook is definitely gifted when it comes to his manhood. It’s not too long, a good seven and a half inches, but fuck he’s so girthy. When you first fucked him, you could barely handle how thick he was. Nowadays, you can absolutely handle it, but that first push always gets you fucking squirming. The pressure and stretch are nothing like you’ve ever felt before.

You let out a stuttered gasp into his mouth when he buries himself to the hilt, his balls flush against your ass, and he stays there for a moment so that you can adjust. You break the kiss, wincing a bit as you turn your face to try and hide the way it scrunches up as it always does the first few moments he’s inside of you.

He doesn’t like that. Not at all.

He pulls his face back from yours and steadies himself on his elbow as one of his hands comes up to grip your jaw. He turns your face towards him, doesn’t let you look away or try to hide.

“Uh-uh, you look at me when I fuck you. I wanna see every single detail of your pretty face if this is the last time I get you like this.”

You whine at him, your eyes fluttering shut and cheeks warming. For some reason, that’s embarrassing, like being called out for talking in class or some shit. But even then, your pussy clenches around his cock, because you love it when he takes control like that, when he makes it clear what he wants.

He shakes your jaw a bit when he notices you closing your eyes, causing them to open instinctively. He looks just as fucked as you do, his nostrils are flared, and he’s sweating slightly, clearly holding back.

“Eyes on me, Y/N. Don’t you fucking dare look away. Look me in my eyes while I make love to you.”

Fuck. It takes every single bit of strength you possess not to cry. There he goes, voicing the fact that tonight isn’t going to be some hard fuck. It’s making love.

That terrifies you.

Making love is something entirely different compared to fucking. Some people disagree, but you don’t. Fucking is mindless, meant for pleasure and pleasure alone. Sometimes, there's intimacy after, but it’s mostly just sex. Making love, of course, comes with pleasure, but that’s not its purpose. Its purpose is to come together with your partner, show each other how much you love them, let all of your emotions run wild and free while sharing the most intimate parts of your body together.

Fucking is like buying a bouquet of roses. You get to see them, water them, keep them on display, but the joy dies quickly because the roses die, too.

Making love is like growing a garden of roses. You can’t make love until you grow that love with someone; nurture it, watch it morph and evolve. And then the flowers bloom. The love bursts, the petals are vibrant in colors made up of you and your partner.

Both are lovely. Everyone loves buying a bouquet of roses, but few get to experience growing their own.

You’ve never made love. Tonight will be the first time.

And it will probably be the last.

You nod at Jungkook stupidly, keeping your eyes on his just as he asked you to. Once he sees your eyes remaining on him, he starts slowly moving his hips. His cock slides in and out of you, your arousal can clearly be heard by the noises your cream coating his cock every time he slides in and out makes. It’s beautiful.

This is beautiful… and so goddamn tragic.

He’s also fighting tears. Because, unlike you, he has made love before… or thought he did. He swore on his wedding night he made love to his wife, but it was nothing like this. You’ve barely even started, and he can feel the stark difference. God, it makes him question fucking everything. He never felt this way with his wife, with anyone, only ever with you.

But now isn’t the time to think of such things, to dissect the fact that maybe what he had with his wife was never actually love, but comfort. Now is the time to share your love together, one last time.

He starts moving his hips a bit faster. His arms reach under your body and wrap around you, trying to get as close as humanly possible. He rests his forehead on yours, keeps his eyes on yours, too. He starts panting, is fighting back tears. He is trying so hard not to cry right now.

“I love you.”

Fuck.

You let out another stuttered breath, and then your breathing picks up entirely as you fight back tears. Your arms are wrapped around him now, nails digging into his back like you’re afraid he will float away. Because you are, you’re so scared that if you let go, he will disappear. You don’t want him to disappear.

He starts pounding a bit deeper, grunting with each deep thrust as he grits out again,

“I love you.”

Fuck he needs to stop.

“Jungkook— nngh… don’t…”

He shakes his head, his breathing heavier, and his thrusts bordering on aggressive now. That’s not abnormal for him; sex with you both is regularly rough. But this is so different. It isn’t the dominating kind of aggressive but desperate, full of passion and love and grief.

“No, Y/N, look at me. I love you. I fucking love you so much, Y/N. I love you.”

And you break.

Crying for you also isn’t abnormal during sex with him specifically. It’s always intense, so sometimes you cry. Not out of sadness or pain; it just happens sometimes. He came to learn that quickly.

But just like how he’s making love to you, these tears are different. You’re weeping for the loss of your lover, but also because you are still so full of love for him. You’re crying because for the first time since this mess started between you, you believe him when he says he loves you. Deep down in your core, in every single crack and crevice of your being, you feel his love for you.

You see it in his eyes as he looks at you, you feel it in the way he touches and kisses you, you hear it in the way he speaks to you when he says it. He loves you so fucking much, and you regret refusing to see it until your last night together. You wish so badly you could have savored his love more seriously rather than deny yourself of it.

You wish things were different.

So you cry for him. The moment the first tear falls, you don’t hold back. You let out something between a moan and a sob as he fucks his cock into you, and his hips stutter when he realizes you’re crying. He didn’t want you to cry, fuck, he doesn’t think he can handle that right now without crying himself. He just wanted you to know, needed you to know that you are loved by him. So fucking loved.

He keeps his eyes on yours, watches the tears fall. He tilts his head slightly and starts kissing the tears away, even as they continue to fall. Greedily kisses them away because they are for him. This will be the last time you water his fully bloomed flower, so he will be greedy. Because he knows that after this, his flower will wilt away, maybe he will, too. So he lets you cry and he kisses and fucks you through it.

He feels himself getting close, his cock starting to twitch and his hips grinding harder into your pelvis. He feels you getting close, too, the way your cunt starts pulsing in rhythm with his cock. You’ve never come at the same time before. He hopes that tonight, he can make it happen.

“Fuck, you feel like home… I love you so much…”

A strangled sob escapes your throat at his words. It’s like he can’t stop saying it, can’t get the words out of his mouth enough. You’ve yet to say it back because you’re afraid his glittery eyes will water, too. But god, you need him to know.

“I love you too, Koo… more than anything…”

And you were right. Hearing you say it amidst your tears, combined with the way your pussy starts rippling around his cock, throbbing and clenching directly after you say it, it’s too much.

He cries. Tries to hide it with a moan, but it’s no use because his tears fall onto your cheeks. You both start crying harder, and he starts fucking you faster. His arms tighten around your waist, and he starts kissing you. Lets you taste your melded tears, his sorrow, his devotion, his love all poured out into this kiss and his tears.

You both water each others flower for the last time.

You feel the familiar pressure building as you kiss him back, your tears mixing with his, the taste addicting. You hate seeing him cry; you know it’s going to haunt you for weeks. But right now, you’re consumed with wanting to be as close to him as possible, and you want to share this moment with him.

You wrap your legs around his waist, and your hips start matching his thrusts. The kiss turns a bit sloppy and uncoordinated because he’s very clearly about to cum; you can feel his cock start twitching and pulsing aggressively inside of you.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you. I. Love. You.”

He groans loudly, his voice sounds strained and distraught. “Come with me.”

You assume he means he wants you to cum at the same time as him. He wants you to cum together, which is definitely going to happen; you feel the string about to snap on both sides.

But really, it had dual meaning. Cum with me, but also come with me. Anywhere, everywhere, please run away with me, please love me forever and ever, please save a piece of your heart for me, please don’t stay away from me forever.

One last thrust and his pelvis grinds into yours as his balls draw up taught. He whimpers into your mouth, and his pelvis grinding into you, mixed with how fucking deep his cock is inside of you, is enough stimulation to your clit to cause you to hurl over the edge a second time. You cream all over his dick, your hips writhing beneath him as you whine and moan into his mouth. His cock jerks hard inside of you, shooting hot ropes of cum that seem endless. Your souls meld together much like your tears do, and you both cum harder than you ever have.

It’s like, in this moment, you are one. You both share a garden, flowers at full bloom, no pesky cages or fences to hinder you from flourishing together. There’s sunlight, and bees, and soil, and plenty of water. It’s peaceful, it’s heaven, it’s home. It’s where you both swear you belong.

Both of your orgasms seem to last eternally. It’s endless, his cock jerking and spurting in rhythm to the way your pussy milks him and pulses around him. He stays buried to the hilt until his cock tires out and your pussy stops milking him.

Even after, he stays like this. You both say nothing as you silently cry together, still connected intimately as you share little kisses between tears.

You made love. He made love to you.

You know damn well you’re ruined for any other man going forward after that.

He exhales a shaky breath and starts peppering your face with little kisses. Despite the tears, he feels lighter than before. There’s still that impending sense of doom, but he knows in his heart that you know he loves you now. That’s all he wanted from tonight…

And despite the sex being pretty vanilla compared to what you usually do, Jesus fuck, that was the best sex he’s ever had.

As he attempts to kiss all of your tears away, he starts whispering the sweetest shit to you, even as he continues crying.

“My baby…”

Kiss.

“My love…”

Kiss.

“My pretty girl…”

Kiss.

“My angel…”

Kiss.

“My heart…”

Kiss.

“My soul…”

Kiss.

“My fucking everything…”

Kiss, kiss, kiss.

Fuck, it makes you swoon hearing all of those sweet words. Not sweet nothings, but sweet declarations. Pure truth. You are and have been his everything despite how fucked up it all is.

You always will be. Fucking always.

You cry a bit harder, nearly blubbering now. He keeps crying, too, not quite as hard as you because he doesn’t want this to be harder for you than it already is… but he knows the moment he leaves you in the morning, he will cry twice as hard.

You realize you’re still clinging to him; there are definitely going to be red marks all over his back. Your legs are still wrapped around his waist, keeping him buried inside of you because that’s where you swear he belongs. He would agree with you.

But you remove your hands from his back and bring them to cup his face, and you feel so fucking drained from the intense sex and crying and the entire goddamn rollercoaster of today… but you don’t want it to end. Fuck, you’re so afraid for it to end.

You place a soft kiss on his lips, “I love you. I really do. Always have, always will, forever and ever…”

He smiles sadly down at you, nods. Because he knows. He never once doubted how much you loved him; every single time he was with you, he felt your love. Even when you were mad at him, you made him feel loved. He wishes so badly that he could’ve made you feel as secure as you made him feel.

You will never know how utterly thankful for you he is.

“I know baby, I know…”

You let out another choked sob and bury your face in his neck. He lifts himself off of you slightly, and he moves himself so that he’s lying beside you instead of on top of you. You cling to him again, refuse to let him go. Can’t. Won’t. Don’t want to. Can’t fucking bear it.

He gently slips his cock out of you and then wraps his arms around you, one hand coming to cup the back of your head and stroke his fingers through your hair, the other rubbing your back soothingly.

You cry and cry and cry. It’s pitiful how hard you’re crying; if anyone saw you right now, they’d be certain someone had died. It really feels that way, as if he’s dying while holding you right now. He feels like he’s dying watching you crumble like this, but he doesn’t dare stop you.

He doesn’t even reassure you because all that would do is give you false hope for something that may not happen ever again. For all you know, after this, you will never cross paths. He may just become a ghost to you…

A flower that bloomed in the spring and died come winter.

There were so many things you wanted to do tonight. You wanted to shower together, wash his hair for him, show him how to bake those cookies you know he loves, stay up and talk about a bunch of pointless shit, rewatch your favorite movies together, fuck a few more times, choke on his dick one last time, kiss him and touch him all over all night. So so so much more.

You didn’t want to stop here. You wanted to stay awake and savor every last second together just as greedily as him. But god, as you sob in his arms, you feel yourself growing so heavy with exhaustion that you can’t keep your eyes open.

“Don’t let me fall asleep, Koo, make me stay awake…”

He buries his face in your hair, his tears making wet patches in your strands. He inhales deeply just to get another whiff of your shampoo, fuck, he needs to figure out which one it is before he leaves so he can buy it and use it. Doesn’t even care if it’s weird. Wants to smell like you. Wants to be surrounded by reminders of you forever.

Like you, he’s been crying this whole time but so quiet that you don’t even realize it. He made sure you wouldn’t realize it. This is your time to get comfort from him, he can’t offer you reassurance, but he damn sure can comfort you through the pain that is his fault.

“Rest, baby… I’m here…”

You shake your head at him, keep your face buried in his neck even as your eyes start to lull shut.

“No, slap me, keep me awake… don’t wanna… sleep… please…”

He can feel your body start to go limp, can feel your tears running down his neck. He knows you’ll be out cold soon. You were fighting a battle you just couldn’t win, and god he wishes he could keep you awake. But he knows you’re emotionally overloaded right now…

And maybe if you fall asleep in his arms, you’ll rest peacefully for tonight. You deserve that, he thinks. You deserve so much peace and happiness.

“It’s ok Y/N… I got you. Just sleep. My baby needs rest, hm?”

You try so fucking hard to respond. But he’s right; you’re fighting a losing battle. Your body can’t keep up with your brain to the point you’re slurring your words. Maybe it’s the after-effects of a fight or flight response because it really felt like you were fighting for your love when making love tonight… fighting to keep hold of his roots as they slowly became untwined from yours. And now, you’re simply too tired.

“I… I love you… so… much…”

He lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes. Holds you a little tighter. Because, fuck, your last words before lulling into a deep sleep were that you loved him. It’s as it should be, but for some reason, it wrecks him, knowing that this is the last time he will hear them.

When your breathing evens out, he pulls back, stares at you. Your brows are furrowed even in sleep, clearly troubled. But you don’t stir and your grip on him loosens. You are so fucking beautiful. He wishes so badly he could just stay like this, watching you rest, in your arms while you’re in his.

Holding each other, as if you’re both one person instead of two.

He knows he won’t sleep tonight. He’s just as overwhelmed as you, but instead of his body shutting down, his adrenaline has spiked. He’s dreading leaving this bed, dreading leaving you.

He stares for an almost pathetic amount of time. Just lays beside you and takes in every soft detail of your face, traces his fingertips over your features. He finds himself wondering, what if he married you instead? What if you met sooner? What if you lived with him and had his babies one day?

What if… he left his wife?

He has to stop himself there. He makes a pained noise and buries his face in your hair again because he knows he can’t think like that. He could leave his wife; he probably should, but he feels like he owes her his life, his devotion. He married her, for fucks sake.

And even if he did leave, he doubts you’d ever be capable of having a healthy and stable relationship. People in these situations rarely do; it’s a form of karma, he thinks. Husbands who cheat and marry their mistresses often get cheated on, or they end up do it again.

He swears, fucking swears on his life that he would never do that to you. But he knows you probably wouldn’t trust him; any woman in your situation wouldn’t. You’d always be left wondering if he’d turn around and do the same to you one day.

Oh, Jungkook, how badly you’ve fucked up…

He has no idea how much time has passed by the time he checks the little alarm clock on your bedside table. He honestly can’t recall when he got here or what time ‘one more night’ started, but as of now, it’s 5 am.

He wants to stay. Wants to fall asleep holding you, wake up and make you breakfast, draw you a cozy bath and massage your back for you… wants to treat you as a lover would.

But he knows that if he doesn’t leave soon, he won’t leave at all. The moment you open your eyes, he will beg again. He will cry and beg and plead for you to change your mind.

Which is way too selfish, considering he’s still a coward, still unwilling to leave his wife both out of fear and knowing the reality of what happens once he does.

So he places one last kiss on your forehead, breathes you in one last time, and then quietly extracts himself from your hold. Standing up and getting off the bed, he looks down at you.

He swears he can see the exact place you keep his stolen heart inside of you. He doesn’t want it anymore, it’s yours. Always will be.

He slowly starts dressing himself again with robotic-like motions. He isn’t crying anymore; he feels kind of numb at this point, or maybe his tears have just run out.

Acceptance? Or the calm before the storm? He isn’t sure.

He doesn’t bother taking a shower; can’t be bothered right now even if he smells like sex… smells like your sex specifically. He can blame it on being lazy, but he knows it’s because he wants your smell to linger a bit longer. He will shower later.

Once fully dressed he pads his way into the living room, grabs the bag full of stuff he packed for you. He takes it back into your bedroom and sits it at the end of the bed.

He carefully collects each Polaroid he took of you for himself and stuffs them in his wallet for safekeeping. After nearly considering changing his mind and taking the camera greedily, he decides he’ll leave it for you, even though it was a gift you got him. He knows you love it, but also knows you’d never buy one for yourself. And if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t think he could ever use it again without thinking of you. It would feel wrong to use it without you.

So he sets that on the end of the bed. He opens the bag, carefully takes out the clothing he packed for you, folds them, and arranges them in a neat pile. Next, he takes out the box of Polaroids; he made sure to put a label on it before coming that said ‘For Y/N.’ He sets the box next to the clothes and then carefully places the chain he packed on top of the pile of clothes.

He wants to arrange it almost as a surprise, hoping it’ll feel more like a gift and not so much like a goodbye this way.

Now that the bag is empty, his intrusive thoughts return. He wants so badly to turn into a little thief and take some of your stuff, too. You would have gladly offered it to him, anything he wanted, but you’re asleep. And he can’t stay much longer.

His intrusive thoughts win, and he can’t find himself feeling too guilty.

So he reaches down and grabs the panties you had on earlier, the same panties that he sucked on like a damn popsicle, and he puts them in the bag.

He quietly makes his way into your bathroom, looks around for a moment until he finds exactly what he’s looking for: the star pimple patches. He takes them, noticing that they’re in a cute little case with a face on it. He knows you love these things; they make pimples feel less like some kind of imperfection. He loves them, too. They remind him of a time when you showered him with love.

You won’t miss them, he thinks again. Not as much as he’ll miss you.

He greedily holds onto them, looks around to see if there’s anything else he can steal. He sees your scarf hanging on the back of your bathroom door; it was the scarf you wore one of the first times he took you to dinner. It’s honestly kind of ugly; it’s a dark and muted plaid, but you loved it because of how soft and warm it is.

It smells very strongly of you.

It’s his now.

He takes the scarf and decides that’s enough. He’s greedy, but he’s not an actual thief. Maybe more like a rat. As much as he wants to steal your shampoo, he decides just to make a mental note of the name because he knows you'll need it to shower when you wake up.

He stuffs the patches and scarf into the same bag and stands before you on the bed. Fuck. He doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want to leave you.

But now is the perfect time; you’re sleeping soundly, dead to the world. If he leaves like this, there will be no hysterical begging or crying from either party.

Still, he finds himself procrastinating. He decides to open the box of Polaroid photos he packed just to make sure none of the ones he kept for himself snuck their way in. They didn’t. He knows they didn’t. But never hurts to double-check.

He comes across one photo in particular… it was a photo he took one night after you both had some very intense sex. He rented a motel that night because he was in Busan for business, and of course, he dragged you along with him. Busan is his hometown, and his wife has always hated it. She was born and raised in Seoul and always claims Busan is too boring, not lively enough. She always refused to go with him, even if it was to visit his parents.

You, on the other hand, you were so fucking excited to go. You talked his ear off the entire ride there, and once you arrived, you were so interested in everything around you. It was so fucking sweet because you told him the reason you were so excited was because it was a part of him. He was born here, which makes the place sacred. It was dramatic, but god, it was precious.

After you guys fucked that night, you both showered together. You got out of the shower before him, and you snapped a few pictures with the Polaroid; he made sure to put those in the box for you. At some point after, you were lying in the bed watching some cartoon on the motel TV, and he was smoking a cigarette. He noticed a vivid handprint from where he was slapping your ass while fucking you from behind. It was the first time he wasn’t really concerned about it, but proud. Because in some fucked up way, he marked you, even if it was temporary. You were his, and even if you doubted it, he was yours.

It was the same feeling he got tonight when giving you those hickeys. Just a little reassurance that you belong to him.

He took the photo to kind of solidify the feeling, preserve it. It was very aesthetically pleasing. One of his favorites, he’s realizing. He almost wants to take this one.

But instead, he decides to leave it with you, and before he does so he grabs a pin from your desk and writes:

I won’t let you forget us

-Kook

It’s cryptic, he knows. Maybe it’s selfish to leave a message like that… but perhaps it’ll keep you open for him. Not that he expects you to wait for him to get his shit together, god never. But maybe you’ll allow him to check on you now and then, maybe you won’t block his number, maybe, just maybe, you’ll save a piece of your heart for him…

He sets the photo down on top of the pile of folded clothes and steps back. He looks at the clock again, sees that it’s now 5:50 am. He has no idea how time passed that quickly because it only felt like maybe ten minutes had passed. He must have been moving slowly; his brain must have realized how much he was fighting this inevitable end.

As he stares down at your sleeping form, he genuinely considers staying. Considers refusing to leave.

And that’s exactly why he chooses this moment to leave. He has to get the fuck out of here before he does something stupid.

He walks over to you once more, leans down, and places a kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, then your chin, and starts peppering your face with kisses all over again. His heart is pounding fast, and he has the urge to run. With one last kiss to your lips, he yanks himself away and grabs the bag now full of items that don’t belong to him.

He wants to take in your space one last time, wants to linger and look around because this has been his safe space for literal months. But he fucking can’t. He feels his resolve weakening quickly by the second and knows one more second here, and he won’t leave.

He quickly makes his way out of your apartment, is nearly panting as he walks out of your complex and down to his car. His hands are shaking, his heart is beating at a scary pace, and he starts to feel fucking sick.

He borderline throws the bag in his back seat, and then gets into his car quickly. His hands shake so severely that he fumbles with his keys as he starts the engine. The moment the car turns on, he’s peeling out of the parking lot.

It wasn’t acceptance. It was indeed the calm before the storm.

He’s never felt like this before. He feels nauseous and almost panicky as he drives robotically down the morning streets of Seoul. His breathing is coming in so fast he gets dizzy.

It all hits him at once. This is the end. FIN. Over.

He swears he feels his flower die at that very moment. It wasn’t uprooted and moved to another garden; someone fucking stepped on his fully bloomed Bearded Iris. One second he was thriving, flourishing, and now he’s fucking dead.

He doesn’t even recognize the sounds of his own choked sobs as he drives down the street. He can’t breathe. He can’t fucking see. He feels like he’s dying, truly, he almost considers calling for help because he feels so full of despair and grief.

But who would he call? His wife? That's a fucking joke. You? He can't call you anymore. He can't call his friends either because none of them know. He's on his fucking own now.

Nothing could have prepared him for what it feels like to grieve the death of a love who is still alive.

He ends up pulling into a random parking lot once he’s a safe distance from your apartment. He slams his palms on his steering wheel and just fucking bawls. Tears fog his eyes, and he sounds almost childish because of the force in which he’s crying.

He knew the day he lost you would be the day that that he died. And right now, he is dying for you.

It isn’t until 10 am that you stir awake. You instinctively reach for him, but your hands only find cold sheets, meaning he left a while ago…

You didn’t expect him to leave so soon. You expected to be able to wake up to him one last time, so you’re disappointed when you realize his clothes aren’t on the floor anymore, and you don’t hear the sounds of him awake and making coffee in the kitchen.

But you suppose that was a smart move. If he had stayed, it would have just made it harder for you both, most likely.

You feel oddly… numb. As of now, no sadness. The only thing you feel is almost like a little zap in your chest; it’s subtle, to the point you aren’t even sure if it’s really there.

It’s off. Somethings not quite right.

You ignore the weird hollow feeling as you sit up and stretch; you realize you never showered, and you smell heavily of sex. So you get out of bed, and you make your way into your bathroom. You start the shower after using the bathroom, and as you wait to warm it up, you look at yourself in the mirror.

Fuck.

You are literally littered with marks. Your neck, all the way down to your chest, all the way down to your thighs. Purple and pink love bites all over you. He seriously fucked you up.

You feel that zap again.

You shake your head and tear your eyes away from the mirror, don’t notice how your star patches are missing from your skincare tub on your bathroom counter yet. You step inside the shower and spend a good while letting the hot water wash over your body, washing the remnants of sex and sweat off of your skin.

After about half an hour, you step out. Dry off. Get dressed. That’s when you walk back into your bedroom and notice the pile of clothing sitting on your bed. Clothing that isn’t yours.

You slowly approach it and quickly recognize the strong scent lingering on it: his cologne. You unhurriedly pick up each piece of clothing, see the shirt and hoodie you often attempted to steal from him, accompanied by one of his favorite jackets.

He left pieces of himself for you.

Zap.

You set them aside and pick up the chain and photo. Fuck, you love his chains. You always loved them because, one, they’re fucking hot, and two, you loved how they would dangle above you when he was fucking you. You doubt he realized it, but sometimes you’d bite it as he was fucking you, tug on it like a damn dog playing with their favorite chew toy just to see if it would break. It never did, and you never stopped being fascinated with his jewelry.

Zap.

You look at the photo and immediately recall the memory. Busan, now one of your favorite places, all because of him. It was such a good little trip. You tried a lot of street food you never had before, saw a lot of pretty things, and he fucked you beautifully that night. It was rough, passionate, and he left hand prints on your ass, and much like him, you loved it. This was one of your favorites, for sure.

But then you read the note.

I won’t let you forget us.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

You drop the photo and the chain on top of the clothes, let out a shaky breathe. Still, you aren’t really feeling much, maybe a bit of nostalgia accompanying the zaps… but no despair, no yearning or grieving…

Calm before the storm.

You decide you need some coffee and painkillers. You have a lingering migraine from all of the wine and crying last night, so you leave your bedroom and make your way into the kitchen.

You start making your coffee and swallow the painkillers dry. You lean against the counter as your coffee brews, then freeze when you look at the floor.

The purple wild flower lays there, stepped on by he-who-shall-not-be-named’s boot. Wilted and destroyed, the petals disconnected from the stem.

The flower is dead.

And now you break.

Those zaps you were feeling, you suddenly understand. It was your fight or flight kicking in again, and instead of your brain responding to it, it blocked it out.

Can’t fight it now.

You drop to your knees, start breathing heavily because you feel like someone placed bricks on your chest. Your heart aches, literally, it hurts, it feels like it’s going to explode and you feel like you can’t breathe at all.

You start crying again… no- you’re fucking wailing. You’re crying out for the loss of your flower, for the death of a lover who isn’t even dead, much like Jungkook had earlier.

It finally hits you that he isn't coming back. He's gone, and now, you're expected to move on. Your heart aches for him. Without him, do you even have a heart?

No, you really don’t, not right now anyway. The moment he stepped out that door, he took it with him. He fucking stole your heart just like he stole your pimple patches and perfume.

All you can do is cry for him, except right now, you don’t have him to cling to for empty comfort. Instead, you reach for the dead wildflower, hold it in your palm, bring it to your chest, and cradle it close as if you can somehow bring it back to life.

Bring him back to you.

Little do you know, he’s currently curled up in his bed at his second apartment. He hasn’t stopped crying since he left. He went back home, took the stolen perfume, and sprayed it all over his damn bed, and now he’s hugging a pillow as if it’s you. Imagining that it’s you, that this is all just a horrible dream, and he will wake up soon.

Both of you are lovers, stars who collided, planets who aligned, flowers who grew side by side.

But it was at the wrong time. And now you’re paying the consequences of your paths crossing when they shouldn't have.

So far away in the matter of hours when you were once so close, yet you’re both doing the exact same thing; clinging to shreds of each other and wishing so fucking badly that things could be different.

Both of you left each other without returning your hearts. Both of your flowers got stepped on instead of uprooted and re-planted somewhere safer.

Spring has passed, no longer bees buzzing and flowers blooming, but the cold harsh winter is coming.

It will be a while before either of you bloom again, if at all.

[bunnyksj]

Can you do a free use or mean dom! Yoongi and then it cute to both of y’all being cute and giggly and aftercare and in love with each other :3

Converse High - MYG x Reader

Summary: You wanna spend time with Yoongi, but hes so busy, but even when hes working he always has time to put you in your place (>w<) 

Author’s Note: TYSM FOR UR REQUEST !!!, i hope you liked it lol, i love mean dom yoongi cries, more requests and fics coming (^o^)

TAGS: smutty smut (MDNI), mean!dom!yoongi, lowkey highkey brat tamer yoongi, bratty!reader, slight sir kink i guess, no willy wrapping, creampies, light choking, PWP,   degradation, he marks you up 🗣️,spanking, HES WEARING RINGS GUYS, softy yoongi at the end RAHH, bro acts all tough but he's really not. 

WORD COUNT: 1.3k 

“Cmon, baby..” He whispers huskily in your ear, gripping your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “I have to open you up for me.”

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　° 

If there was one thing you loved more than anything, it was pushing Yoongi over the edge. Flashing an innocent smile whilst you ran your hands over his chest whilst he tried to work. Kneeling between his legs, feeling him up. He thought you knew better by now, but how could you quit when being punished is so much fun! Feeling his hands grip your waist until it left pretty bruises, him ramming into you until you gushed all over the sheets, his leaving red marks all over your ass. How could you not play with him every once in a while? 

“Yoongi!” You called. “I’m so bored…how much longer are you gonna be working for.” 

You pouted, Yoongi had promised to watch your favorite movie with you when he finished working. It's been 2 hours since he said that!! All your snacks are already gone, and your friends are all far too busy to be texting you. What is his issue anyways? Can’t he put his girl first for once? 

“I told you, angel. I’m nearly done, can’t you just be patient?” 

Who was he to tell you to be patient? You’ve literally have already waited 2 fucking hours for him to get his damn ass up and join you for christ sake! Sighing, you walked back to your shared bedroom, when your eyes lit up. It was time to take matters into your own hands. 

Who could blame you really? The light pink, lingerie dress was Yoongi’s favorite. The cute bow on the front and tight material that hung to your curves like a glove, it drove him crazy everytime. It wasn’t your fault you happened to walk by his office, the lingerie hugging your ass perfectly, the thin fabric only slightly covering your backside. You didn't ask him to look at you. Or follow you into the bedroom. 

“What’s wrong Yoongi? I thought you had work to do?” You smirked softly, playing with the end of the dress, batting your lashes innocently. 

He stares down at you, his eyes darkening and roaming over your body. 

“You wanna see what happens to dirty sluts like you?”

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

The feeling of his fingers playing with your entrance brings you back to reality. Softly needing and playing with your sensitive flesh, stroking your clit. You whine softly, leaning into his touch. 

“Bend over my lap, sweet angel.” He whispers softly, like he was asking you to dance and not spank you until your ass is raw and red. 

“Yes sir.”

You obeyed, crawling over to his lap, laying down on your chest, your pretty ass in the air for him. Slowly, he peels your panties off, a small smirk forming on his lips. His hand softly caresses your delicate skin, he pulls his hand back, ready to strike. 

“You’re gonna be a good girl and count for me, right princess? Ten slaps, okay?” 

“Mhm…” You said softly, bracing for impact. 

His hands slap against your ass, his rings already leaving marks on your skin. He soothingly rubs the skin, before getting ready for the next slap. 

“O-one..thank you, sir.” 

He brings his hands down again. And again. And again. Marking your soft skin with his hands, leaving red marks all over your pretty ass, his rings only heightening the intensity of his spanking, leaving deep marks on your backside. 

“N-nine…” 

He slaps your ass even harder, the metal rings leaving a lingering sting. “Go on.” 

“N-nine, thank you sir.” 

He smirks softly, his hand raising for the final time, slapping hard against your ass. 

“Ten..” You whimper “Thank you…sir..” 

He rubs your ass soothingly, caressing the tender skin that's been all marked up by his firm hands. 

“Good girl, now lay on the bed angel. Gonna fuck you so good…you’re already dripping and wide open, so ready for me aren’t you?” 

He says, against your ear, his voice low and serious. He gives you a light shove, throwing your legs over his shoulders, lining himself up with your entrance. His tip rubs against your sensitive folds, sending shivers up your spine. 

“Yoongi, please…need you so bad sir..” 

“Yeah, my little princess wants to be fucked like a cheap whore? Want me to claim this slutty pussy, fill it up with my thick cum?” 

You nod, whining, rubbing your hips to meet his. He growls raspily, slowly sliding himself inside you, filling you to the brim. His thick cock rubs against your walls, tip hitting your sweet spot so good it already has you seeing stars. 

“Such a fucking slut, dripping from a few spanks huh? You wanna be fucked baby, beg for it, little brat.” 

His hands slide up your chest, reaching your throat, softly gripping. It doesn't choke you fully, but you feel the pressure of his firm hands against your throat, the cool metal  of the rings against your flushed skin causes you to flinch slightly, but you don't dare pull away. He moves his hips more rapidly, slamming into yours, lewd wet sounds filling the room around you. 

“Fuck baby, you feel so good. Such a little brat, always begging to be fucked, huh? You like being a little cumdump?” 

You nod pathetically, your body slamming against his, your breasts bouncing in sync with his thrusts lewdly. Your vision blurring slightly, only just able to make out his slight smirk, looking down on you with lust-filled eyes, licking his lips. 

“You look so damn good, all fucked out, can’t even think huh?” 

You whimper desperately, drooling slightly. “Yoongie~” 

You fuck yourself into him, barely able to form coherent words, just spewing out whines and babbles of his name, crying out in pleasure. He continues to fuck his thick cock into you, filling you so deep. 

“F-fuck..Yoongie…can feel you here…” You say breathless, between moans, your hand brushing over your stomach. 

“Yeah..you feel how deep I am baby? How fucking good it feels to have me claim you? You love it right? Love being my good girl, my sweet little slut.” 

“Y-yes! I love it..wanna be yours Yoongie.” 

“Yeah, pretty slut. Gonna let me fill this cunt up right? Fill you up so well?” 

“Mhm~! Please..cum in me..” You cry, arching up to meet his thrusts. 

“Such a good girl…” He growls deeply in your ear, his cock twitching before filling you to the brim with thick cum. He bites at your neck, leaving pretty marks all over you as he spills his seed inside your tight hole, riding out his high. 

You whine loudy, throwing your arms around Yoongi's shoulders as you cry out his name, digging your nails into his back as you clench around him, cumming all over his cock. Your lips meet his in a messy kiss, both of you panting heavily as you come down from your orgasms. 

Yoongi falls onto the bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your marked neck. He inhales, taking in the scent of your perfume and sweat, the scent of your arousal still lingering. He smiles softly, brushing the hair away from your face. 

“You’re so pretty, angel. Love you so much..” He says softly, kissing your cheek gently. 

You giggle, face still flushed, snuggling into his arms, throwing your arms around his neck, feeling his warm embrace comfort and soothe you. “Love you too, Yoongie. But goddamn, there's no way I'm walking tomorrow.” 

He smiles, laughing softly into your neck, his arms resting on your waist, holding you firmly against his chest. “Looks like I’m gonna have to take care of you then, pretty baby, how about we watch that movie you wanted yeah?” His hands move to squish your cheeks softly, placing a kiss on your delicate lips. 

You smirk softly, eyes lighting up. You always knew how to get what you wanted. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

[starfishoverdrive]

🖤 Enmu [NSFW] Headcanons 🖤

🌟 except these are my new ones!! i feel like this is better and specific lol, and fem ♀️ reader btw!!

I have a very interesting way of how I think of Enmu, I feel like I should share it with you all ..⭐️

now that i have your attention look at his freaky ass hand??.. that i end up mentioning in the hea—

🖤 He is bisexual, enjoys being more dominant with women and submissive with men

🖤 This isn't even a head canon it's just canon but he has a fat ass that fits his equally thick thighs 😻 Loves when you grab them both and generally likes attention towards them. He enjoys squeezing you between his thighs, too. Never went wrong with a little breath play. I think...

🖤 His dick is thick and big, like 6-8 inches :3 it's not too big to where you struggle to fit it in your mouth, but it makes it feel really full, and it easily hits your cervix. He loves to pound you deep so he can feel himself slam into that barrier, and his favorite position to do that is mating press.

🖤 When hes not snapping trains he loves taking erotic pictures of you, himself, or together. Gets off to the ones of you a lot. He likes showing his ass the most in solo pictures.

🖤 Biting and scent kink. Loves the smell of your pussy and arousal, and he loves "claiming" and marking you with his bites. You love the sweet mix of pain and pleasure they bring so there's rarely a moment where he's not biting you. And for your scent—it makes him salivate, and the fact his sense of smell is enhanced makes hiding how he makes you feel impossible.

🖤 Nearly nothing brings him as much joy as sticking his face between your legs, inhaling your sweet scent, and indulging in the addicting taste of your pussy. It's sort of a blessing and a curse that demons don't get tired because he'll be there for as long as he can. Oral fixation. He enjoys trying to fit as much as he can in his mouth and sucking like it's a little treat for him. But he also loves receiving, and his favorite thing to do is 69. He's very fun to suck.

🖤 Likes feminine clothing. Would wear your panties, cum in them, and have you wear them. :3

🖤 Praise kink. He loves saying "good girl" and he also loves being called a good boy.

🖤 LOVES public sex like... He has to. Whether it's you sitting on his dick under your skirt or him straight up pounding you in front of everyone, he loves it. Enjoys train sex a ton.

🖤 Likes having his hair pulled. Especially the blue parts. You can use them to pull him further into you.

🖤 Breeding kink... He likes breeding demon slayers in particular.

🖤 He's very keen on using his detachable hand whenever your pussy's unoccupied. So if you're sucking his cock, between his soft pillowy thighs, or really anything, he'd want to be fingering you to give you an even better experience.

🖤 He can sharpen his claws at will so it's only natural he uses them to shred apart your clothing. It's smart to bring extra clothes or else you're going to look like you just got attacked. ...Apart from the cum rolling down your legs.

🖤 He may enjoy being dominant, but being submissive to you turns him on. To have someone much weaker than him use him to get off... He loves it. He'll worship you, let you use all the toys you please on him, and reduce him to nothing but a lowly demon fuck toy. It's arousing to him. But when he's not in the mood for being completely submissive, he can simply be bratty. And he loves teasing. When he's submissive, he enjoys the amazon position (its interesting...)

🖤 He's so perfect for tentacle sex... OF COURSE he does it. Will fuck you with them, hold you down with them, and fuck himself with them while he's fucking you. Fuses with trains for this one purpose most of the time.

🖤 Gives you sexy dreams so your pussy is ready for him when you're asleep. :3 You enjoy waking up to a hot and sticky surprise in the morning.

🖤 Extremely vocal!! Whimpers, cries, fucking growls, and sometimes he even makes girlish moans. He mainly starts gasping when it's barely been a minute, then he starts panting and it all goes downhill for your neighbors from there.

🖤 Adores it when you kiss him or get really handsy. Sometimes he just wants you to touch him and hold him close while you're doing it, and that's all he needs. If you tell him you love him he'll get flustered and speechless, but just know he says it back in his head. He's just too busy pounding you. ❤️

🖤 As a human he pretended to be a doctor so I think the idea of him using that to fuck patients is amazing. Like they'll tell him they have a sore throat and he explains that it's a common illness and he has just the remedy, then he starts pulling his pants down

🖤 Has no pubes. Doesn't care if you have them. At all.

🖤 He enjoys the parts of your body that has fat on it. Whether it's your tummy, thighs, anywhere, he'd leave loving bite marks there and squeeze often. But bonus points if it's your thighs, he'd be constantly grabbing them and I can only imagine how loud it is to slam down on his thighs when you're riding him.

🖤 Stuck it in you and said "Choo choo" once. You cried hysterically

...aaand that's all I can think of right now! In general I think he's just a big horny tease who would love a human to play with. Very cute and thick demon boyfriend who holds you tight and makes sure your pussy is nice and full. 🌟

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

hi are your rqs open? if not feel free to delete this but I love your writing and was wondering if you could do will solace x platonic!fem!aphrodite kid!reader childhood friends type thing? (that's a lot of "!" s lol) like they both came to camp at the same time and have been friends since they were both in the Hermes cabin and are still besties? like I can imagine reader and will teaming up to make fun of Nico (affectionately)

⋆⭒˚.⋆ platonic! will solace x daughter of aphrodite! reader hcs

content: platonic! will solace x daughter of aphrodite! reader hcs warning: language i believe???? this ones jsut silly goofy author's note: I FEEL SO BAD THIS TOOK ME LIKE A MONTH IM SO SORRY I JUST- THERE WAS A LOT OF PRESSURE I FELT- YA KNOW??? IDK IDK HOPE YOU LIKE IT, IF NOT I TOTALLY AGREE LETS BURN IT TOGETHER-

it was will's first day at camp and he was already missing his mom

just like this deep and unstoppable want for his mom

so he was being mopey and staying away from everyone, even though he wanted to make friends and have fun, he just couldn't bring himself to do so

until he met you

you were bubbly and insistent

and annoying

but, you managed to pull will out of his slump

you were also staying in the hermes cabin, unclaimed as can be

"do you think i could catch this grape?" you asked with a wide smile

"no way," will insisted, pretending to put on a scowl

you did catch it, crushing the grape between your teeth with a wide smile before holding your perfected manicured hand out to him

"i'm y/n. you?"

"will."

that shake of hands was the start of something beautiful

beautifully annoying

you two bounce off of each other, radioactively

like annoyingly fun sunshine characters x2 fr

and then will got claimed by apollo

he'd be helping put band aids on little kids when it happened

obviously he was met with loud cheers from the apollo cabin and feasts in his name or whatever

but he couldn't shake the look on your face when you thought he wasn't looking

just pure self doubt, unsure if it would ever be you in that situation

from that day forwards, will was determined to never see you look like that again

naturally, you guys tried seeking out your godly parent through doing things to see what you were naturally good at but all the tests held no water

after a few weeks, you waved will off, arguing that you were fine and that the hermes cabin was nice

which was a blatant lie, as that place was so packed and you didn't even have a bed

but, as much as will tried to argue, you shot him down every time

then, one evening, you and will were sitting around the campfire, a burnt marshmallow hanging off your stick, but that's the way you preferred them

you were raving on and on about some son of ares before turning to will, a soft and slightly teasing smile on your lips

"what about you, any girls caught your eye?"

"yeah, i guess," will replied, half heartedly, slightly turning away

you watched him for a moment before setting your stick down and grasping will's hands, pulling them into your own and forcing the boy to look into your eyes

"will."

"y/n."

"...have any guys caught your eye?"

"...maybe."

"omg, which ones?!" you instantly gushed, smiling brightly at him and giving his hands a squeeze

will listed a few but he quickly realized they didn't matter anymore, none of it did

it mattered to him how quickly you were to accept him, how quickly you were to share the love

and also, the hot pink dove floating above your head kinda drew his attention away

you barely noticed, yapping about whether or not you thought the guys will listed off were gay or not

when it finally did catch your eye, you nearly cried, squeezing your eyes shut with a wide smile before turning to will, tightening your hold on his hands

"thank you."

"why are you thanking me?"

"i don't think i've loved anyone like i love you, stupid. clearly, my mom noticed that."

CRYING WTF

anyways moving on to the torture of nico di angelo

you literally played matchmaker for MONTHS trying to get nico and will together, only for them to ALREADY BE DATING

will felt so bad keeping it from you (but also he was having fun being sneaky)

dont worry, he makes it up to you by having you be his best lady at his and nico's wedding

i just know that wedding speech goes crazy, laughing one sec, crying the next

hot take, i think children of aphrodite will just naturally take a shine to public speaking, i just think that's something they'd be good at

now, you and will had a weekly self care day, which you've been doing for YEARS

the whole nine yards, im meaning, face masks, foot masks, gua sha-ing, click flicks, orange juice and apple juice in fancy glasses

so, when nico and will started dating, you offered for nico to come for one of them, beaming a smile at the gloomy boy

he agreed to be there but outright refused to do any of the stuff

he kept coming back and week by week he started doing more until he had a face mask on and pomegranate juice in a wine glass, yelling at reality tv louder than you and will combined

at first, nico wasn't exactly your biggest fan

he would always say you took away will time or you were just too bubbly for your own good

but in reality, you reminded him too much of bianca

you tried your best to take care of him and will, always had snacks in your purse and band aids in your pockets

you were sweet and kind and it hit nico right in the chest

and you could tell, ever intuitive to people's feelings, so you pulled back and let nico figure it out for himself

in his own time, he warmed up to you, a while you still laugh in the same bianca did and sometimes you wrinkle your nose just like she used to, now he can look it with a fondness rather than guilt

and will was overjoyed when they were starting to connect

ummm his best friend and his boyfriend being besties??? yes pls

both you and nico fight for the great cause of Will Solace Getting Eight Hours Of Sleep agenda

constantly dragging that boy out of the infirmary together, each looping one arm

those are the days that will regrets that you guys are such good friends, kicking and screaming to get back to the infirmary

OH OH OH and you and will get mistaken as a couple all the time bc daughter of aphrodite things and you guys just progressively more funny with your responses.

"ewwwww that's my uncle grossssss."

"this chick?? she's not my girlfriend! i bought her off of ebay for a nickel, please."

"boyfriend?? bro, i'm a nun, wtf??"

"girlfriend?? bro, i'm a priest, wtf??"

the person always walks away feeling very confused while you two turn into a puddle of laughs on the ground.

all in all, you and will are a silly goofy pair that have your mushy gushy moments

[ilydottie]

| You and I | 

Pairing: Albedo x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Breeding Kink, Afab!Reader, Fem!Reader, He/Him Pronouns for Albedo, No pronouns for Reader, Reader is called a good girl, Dubcon(?), Feral!Albedo, Albedo is Reader’s Husband, Pregnancy is mentioned quite a bit, Lowkey Selfship Coded lol, Overstimulation, 1.2k words. 

Summary: You’ve been laying down hints for awhile that you want kids, and Albedo finally takes the initiative one evening. 

A/n: I want Albedo to put a baby in me <3

Tags: @suyacho @neuvillettes @themovingcastlez @tighnarly

It’s five in the evening, and instead of catching up with your husband about your day, you are being stuffed full of his cock. In the same king sized bed that you both laid on and talked about having a family of your own, but instead of shaky hands interlocking and soft voices whispering sweet nothings, there was just you being shoved into the mattress while your husband’s cock throbbed within your walls. 

“Al-Albedo.” You whined.  

Albedo’s body was pressed up against your back, pushing you firmly into the bed, while his hands forced your hips into place,making sure you didn’t move a single inch without his permission. You’d lost count of the amount of times he’d cum inside of you by now, it must’ve been a dozen times, but again, you weren’t keeping count. Although, by how sore you were and the combination of your dizziness and about a billion other things overstimulating you, you had to guess this had gone on for quite some time. 

You could feel his hot breath fan against your back, feel the way he so easily slid in and out of you, but most of all you couldn’t escape the feeling of his cum spilling out of you the moment he pulled out entirely. You gasped at the sudden sensation but before you could cry those pathetic tears, Albedo had leaned off of you slightly and stroked the side of your face, hushing you softly as he did. 

“Shh, it’s okay. Just take it. That’s it, that’s my good girl.” He whispered into your ear. 

You had no choice but to listen to him, you couldn’t even get up if you tried with how weak and wobbly your legs were. Not to mention he was still pinning you to the bed, but not for long. Before you knew it he had carefully gotten off of you, sat up, and slowly flipped you onto your back. Both of your eyes met and he smiled at you briefly. Then, he leaned down, positioning himself in between your legs, pulling you down by your thighs until you were positioned in the right spot. He leaned down and tilted your chin up so he could kiss you, this time with tongue. 

Usually, Albedo would’ve asked you for a signal that you were ready, but impatience got the better of him and without asking he slid back inside of your warm cunt. The both of you groaned at the sudden intrusion. Without giving you time to adjust Albedo continued thrusting inside of you, repeating a prayer of ‘I’m sorry’s’ as he did. He held you down as he thrust himself into you at a brutal speed. Before you even realized it he had you in a mating press, thrusting deeply into you as you cried in his arms. You didn’t beg him to stop, tell him how you were sore or tired. No, instead you begged for him to fuck you harder and faster. You pleaded for Albedo to fill you with his cum, fuck you till the only thing you craved was his cock. 

“F-fuck, baby that f-feels so good.” You moaned, stuttering on nearly every word as you shivered in pleasure. “Want you to fill me with y’er cum, get me pregnant, baby. Please?” You asked in the midst of your desperation.

You didn’t have to say another word, because Albedo had already begun pushing himself further into you (or at least he would’ve if he wasn’t already snug deep inside of you) and digging his nails into the plush of your skin. He threw his head back and let out a broken moan, still pounding into you as if he’d never felt the touch of another person. With every thrust inside of you, he clawed at your flesh like a wild animal tearing apart its meal. As you clamped down onto his length once more, Albedo couldn’t help but begin to lose control, little by little those stars in his eyes grew bigger and brighter than before. 

“Fuck, baby. Gonna get you so fuckin’ pregnant. Fuck yes.” Albedo moaned, biting down on his bottom lip to suppress the embarrassing whimpers that were hiding underneath his tongue. 

It only took a couple more pumps inside of you, a few more pleadings from the both of you, in order for him to release his load inside of you. You could feel all that pent up frustration being unleashed onto you. And as he stilled his hips, forcing you down all the way onto his cock, you remember the dizziness you felt and the way in which you never wanted this feeling to end. So, you wrapped your legs around his waist and pushed him further inside of you, or at least you tried to. Begging with tears in your eyes for what the two of you shared to never end, you rocked your body against his. Thrusting up to meet his hips, skin touching skin, and a symphony of moans later, Albedo found himself cumming inside of you yet again.

“F-uckkkk.” He moaned loudly, throwing his head back as he continued pounding into you in full desperation. “Tha-That’s it.. Take it, take it all.”

You’d never seen this side of Albedo before, and you loved it. You loved feeling his cock bully your insides, the way his usually gentle hands were now forcing you into the mattress, and especially how his body pinned you against the bed making it impossible for you to escape. You loved it, fuck did you love it. Albedo was usually so gentle and careful with you, but this time he manhandled you, took total control, and nothing got you more excited than that. 

A couple moments passed and your highs had now faded into a blissful quietness and gentle, shaky touches. The moment was perfect, sensual, and overall peaceful. It was the perfect end to a rather thrilling evening. There was a moment of comfortable silence before Albedo finally spoke up, turning to you with a soft smile.

“So, how’re you feelin’?” He asked in a genuine tone. 

You smiled and allowed your fingers to crawl up the side of his body and around the curve of his back. “Amazing. You?” You replied.

He let out a dreamy sigh as he stroked the side of your face, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m wonderful, but I’ll be even happier once I know you’re pregnant.”

His bluntness threw you off for a moment, immediately you became flustered and tried hiding your expression from him. “P-Pregnant?! I mean. Albedo, I-” 

He silenced you with a kiss and pulled away finally with a big smile, looking you deep into your eyes. “You’re so flustered and yet–” He tilted your head to get a better look at your face. “You weren’t against this earlier.” 

You were too stunned for words, you didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t necessarily wrong, but you were far too embarrassed by how much you both feared and enjoyed the thought of having kids. So, for now you’d let him tease you, laugh along with him, and hope to god this little plan of yours worked. 

[its-tin]

My shot at @abbeyofcyn’s CTIYS!

Fun fact this is actually my first time ever doing something like this (or even posting art in general) and I might have gone a bit overboard with it. I coloured it twice because I had two ideas wanted to try both. My finger needs rest and I can’t fathom that Ibis is telling me that I spent 16-nearly-17 hours on this lol. But! I’m happy I did. This was so much fun to do! I only recently started with digital art and I decided to try and do new things with this. Who knew shading could be so enjoyable? I also found it very entertaining to try and shove as many small details as I can into this (an example being in the first one, Donnie’s bags (?) actually being Leo’s (he has them in the show :] ) that he *cough* borrowed to store interesting things he finds in the apocalypse).

ANYWAYS ENOUGH YAPPING HERE IT IS!

First one (what I call my normal attempt): “Gold”

(I actually forgot that his mechanical arm is green too and only realised it when I was late into the second one lol) I wanted to emphasise with the colours that they are still in the apocalypse, but it’s but brighter with those you care for. They’re the most valuable thing in the world, and hence, Gold! I also wanted to try doing a golden hour scene and MAN did I struggle. But, I’m proud of it :)

Small trigger warning! The next one contains a bit of blood and implied death.

Second one (Angst tehe): “Hollow peace”

(MY QUALITY NOOOOO-) This was actually my first thought on the CTIYS before I changed my mind and started on the other. I had the thought that maybe Leo “failed”, losing them in some recent battle and now is just chilling with their ghosts and ow that hurts saying aloud. They stumble upon a new area, and it’s so peaceful and beautiful, but Leo can’t enjoy it. He wouldn’t even know how to. He can’t remember how to feel, how to think beyond ‘survive’. He’s failed everyone and everything. He cries without knowing for what. He’s a husk caring for the hauntings of his kids, they’re the only thing keeping him alive. And as long as they’re still here, still smiling at him despite him being a monster and failing them, he still has a purpose. He will live on.

Wow I talk a lot. Anyways go follow @abbeyofcyn they’re super cool and post amazing art. They inspire me so much on so many different levels and I am very happy to be able to do this. Rad person with stunning fanart and stories.

(Incredible line art done by @abbeyofcyn (sorry I’ve tagged you thrice in one post))

And here’s the link to the Original Post if you want to try yourself! I recommend, but you do you. :D

Thanks for listening to my rambles and have a lovely rest of your day/night! :]

[underaverageheight]

Balloons

dad!lino x fem!reader genre: fluff warning(s): dad lino (yes that's a warning) kinda proofread

word count: 1k (1001 lol)

Sitting on her father's shoulders, she pat and tapped the top of his head pointing rather wildly. "Daddy. I want that." You daughter, Minji, pointed at the man selling balloons across the park.

"The balloons? You want a balloon? Okay my little star~" Minho grinned, patting his daughter's leg. You walked alongside your husband, enjoying this peaceful scene that will forever be ingrained in your mind. Minji was perched atop Minho's shoulders, her tiny hands clutching his longer hair, giving him adorable little pigtails. Minho set his daughter down on the grass as the three of you walked to the vendor. She squealed and ran quick, making a bee-line for the bundle of balloons. You giggled, putting out your arm to stop Minho from running after his little star, earning you a puzzled look from your husband.

"As much as I don't want her to get hurt, it's grass and she needs to learn that she should slow down sometimes." As if on cue, Minji fell on her hands and knees. Minho nearly rushed to his daughter's side til you tugged on his sleeve. "Watch, Min. She learns quick." You felt the tension leave Minho's body as Minji got up, dusted her hands off and simply walked to the balloons. "See?" You smiled, squeezing his hand reassuringly. Walking up to your daughter, you crouched down and dusted her clothes off. "You okay, honey?"

Minji nodded and pointed at a pink balloon. "This one. Can I- I mean, may I have a balloon, Daddy? Please?" Minho nodded and got 3 pink balloons for his daughter. She then gave one to you and to Minho. "There. Now Daddy, Mommy, and me all have a balloon!" You kneeled down to tie the balloon around Minji's wrist as well as your husband's. Minho returned the favor, giving your wrist a light peck before nudging you softly.

"I still would've given you both balloons." You looked at him in confusion.

"Why?"

"Well, you're both short." He smirked. "I can't lose both my daughter and my wife at the park today, can I?" You rolled your eyes with a laugh.

“You’re insufferable. But that’s why I love you… I guess.” Grinning, you gave Minho a light kiss and went to Minji.  “Minji, honey, what do you want to do here at the park?”

“I wanna play on the swing and… and play hide and seek and play tag…” Minji looked around almost frantically, wanting to do so many things. She gave you a look, almost identical to you husband’s pouting face, something that made you give in every time.

Minho bent down to his daughter’s level. “Race you to the swing, little star. 5… 4…” Minji screamed excitedly and took off for the swing. Minho took a light pace behind her, scooping her up before she reached for the swing. “Daddy got you, Minji~ Daddy wins!” This earned him his signature unamused look from his own daughter. “Okay, okay… You almost won. Next time, yeah?”

Minji huffed. “It’s not fair. Daddy’s a giant. Right Mommy? Cause- cause Mommy’s a lot smaller than you. Just like me.”

Giggling, you took your daughter from Minho’s arms. “I agree, it’s not fair. So you’re gonna grow up and tower over your dad. Then you can race him.”

“But I wanna grow up now! I wanna be a giant too!” Minji began pouting again. She wasn’t much of a crier though. A pouter? Yes

“Wanna be a little giant for today? Sit on the swing, Minji.” Minji sat on the swing, clutching on the chains as Minho gently pushed her. “Jagiya~ She looks so much like me.” Minho’s lips formed an adorable pout.

“I know. She’s just like you. Rarely cries, she has your pout and stare-”

“She’s gonna be a menace when she’s older.”

“Oh so you admit it?” You smirked.

“What? No. I’m just saying… Oh alright yes. I’m a menace.” His ears turned pink as he grumbled, resting his head on your shoulder as he continued to push Minji.

“Except when it comes to your daughter.” Your husband hummed in response.

“Daddy! Stop pushing me, I wanna play hide and seek!” He chuckled, bringing the swing to a stop as Minji hopped off and looked up at her father. “Daddy, you’re gonna hide with Mommy and I’m gonna find you. 1… 2… 3…” Minho took your hand and started running, his face overcome with this giant grin. There wasn’t much to hide behind in this open park but you both made it work. You hit behind a tree and Minho crouched by the bushes. “Ready or not… here I come!”

Minji ran around, searching the highs and lows of the park. From behind the tree, you saw her pink balloon trailing behind her, stopping and moving just as she did. “Found you Daddy! I found you!” Minji popped out from the opposite side of the bush he was hiding in.

“Ah you got me~! You’re good at this Minji!”

Minji smiled. “You’re just bad at this game, Daddy. I could see your balloon when I ran over here.” She tugged on his fingers. “Let’s go find Mommy.”

Minho scanned the park, nearly missing you as your own balloon barely peeked out from the tree you were hiding behind. “Star, go for the trees. I have a good feeling.”

Minji ran towards the trees, searching around. “Mommy! I found you too!” She squealed and jumped into your arms.

“Hey… I wanted a hug too!” Minho opened his arms and you set Minji down, watching her jump into her father’s arms. He swung her around, earning giggles from Minji. Your heart swelled with love as you watched them, going to kiss the top of your daughter’s head and kiss Minho.

“I love you both so much.”

“Me too Mommy!”

“I love you too Jagi.” Minho nuzzled the crook of your neck before whispering softly. “I can’t believe we made that.”

“Way to ruin the moment, Min.” Rolling your eyes, you intertwined your fingers with his.

“What?”

a/n: those ppl who put balloons on their s/o... i'm short so this is kinda cute to me ngl. i enjoyed writing this hehe thank you sage for the name~

m.list

[milkywaydrabbles]

Fluff number 18 my parents seem to love you. Alucard castlevania,

I think this would be really cute,specifically in a modern au, if you've seen the games at all, castlevania continues well into 2030s where Alucard works for a secretive government branch as genya arikado. If not then however you like, I just gotta spread the world on this lesser known lore lol.

A/N: SCREAMS I haven't played the games I'm a fucking fraud but I really want to soon bc when I hyperfixate on things it's so difficult to think of anything else but life is really busy right now cries. One day soon I'll do it!! AU where nothing fucking bad happens and Adrian gets to live a happy life with his mom and dad!!!! Hope you like it MWUAH

"My parents love you" x Alucard

“Adrian, I have no idea how you managed to catch her eye but you need to keep her.” Lisa teased, shoving her son playfully on the side. He would always be the butt of the joke whenever having dinner with his parents, and you-the absolute love of his life. Vlad stayed quiet for the most part, except for a chuckle here or there, and when he was feeling spicy a dad joke thrown into the mix. “I think he’s doing a fine job at keeping me, Mrs. Tepes.” You smiled at her, glancing his way for a moment. Adrian simply smiled, rolling his eyes in amusement. 

It was a tradition at this point, having dinner with his parents at least once a month. More if there was a special occasion like a holiday or anniversary. It ended up being your idea, really. You enjoyed being around his family more than he thought you would. And honestly, it was a huge relief. Family was terribly important to Adrian, but he knew you had a broken family. Knew that being around family gatherings was difficult. He would never push you into seeing them more than you needed to. But you just, clicked so well with them. He had nothing to worry about.

The two of you had been together for nearly four years now. Your meeting was nothing exceptional, accidentally bumping into each other at the local bookstore you both frequented. And then bumping into each other again at a coffee shop. And then again at the bookstore. “Seems like fate really wants us to meet huh?” You joked, gripping onto the book you were perusing. From there it was like you had been together forever. None of the awkward dates trying to get to know each other. None of the weird anxious butterflies in your stomach that made you feel like you had to try hard to impress him. It just felt right. From the moment he asked you out on a date, it had been like the relationship had been established for decades. 

It felt like Vlad and Lisa all over again.

And then you went to meet his parents-and he was a nervous wreck. Not because he didn’t want to introduce you, but because you had recently confided in him the harsh upbringing you had. He had no idea what that was like, and it broke his heart to see how bright and shining you were, feel small when telling him your past.  But you wanted to meet them, make a good impression. It was important to you that they accepted you as his significant other. If my parents don’t like me, at least I have yours! You joked, laughing even if it was at your own expense. Meeting of his parents went...well. Interesting, but well. Vlad was as stoic as ever, stark difference to Lisa wanting to immediately smother you with questions of yourself, how you two met, what you do. She was his mother. Adrian tried to slow her down but you answered it all in stride, returning questions and asking her about her line of work specifically. And how the two of them were so brilliant. Everything from there? Well, it just clicked.

So to see you smiling so brightly at his parents and them returning the smiles sent him over the moon. The rest of dinner was smooth, you both bidding his parents farewell as you exited the castle back home. You walked hand in hand, Adrian looking at you like you personally hung the stars in the sky as you rambled about the different books you had been reading. You looked over when you didn’t hear a response with a quirk of your brow. “Earth to Adrian.” You waved, bringing him out of his lovesick stupor. “Have you been listening?” He hummed, noncommittal with his answer. “My parents love you, you know.” He blurted out, quite randomly to you. You blinked, cocking your head to the side with a smile. “I sure hope they do. You’ve been stuck with me for quite some time now.” You teased, leaning into his side. The grip on your hand tightened, turning his head to give your temple a kiss before returning to walking in silence as you continued with your stories.

They loved you, you knew that. But what you didn’t know was that this would be the final dinner you have with them before returning with a different title of fiancee. Earlier as you helped Lisa set the table, Adrian had shown his father the ring he planned on proposing with, and then Vlad distracted you enough with something in the study beforehand to show his mother. They loved you, as his girlfriend. And now, during your next dinner, they would love you as their daughter in law. 

[rinbowaman]

can you do a scenario where readen sneaks out and takes her and heethans baby and moves somewhere far far away with the money she's been saving up but heethan still finds her?

thanks alot <33333

"Where Will You Go?"

Warnings: runaway, stalking, kidnapping, drugging, human rights violation, abuse of authority in a relationship, traditional yandere type sh*t. insane love, dom!heethan and sub! readen vibes.

So.....if you haven't already, i would go and take a look at the canon smaus in each arc of the series, because otherwise you might not get the signature trademark quote of heethan. lol.

"Shhh...it’s okay baby...mama is here." cradling your baby boy, rocking him in your arms as you attempt to feed him, you hush his cries and sing a soft lullaby. Gazing out the window, you watch the scenic blur of the wide landscape, the foliage meshing with the blue sky as the train continues to travel at such a high speed. You look down and admire your baby boy, just only shy of 6 months old, too young to travel but you had to take the opportunity when you saw it, and use it to escape.

you hoped he’d understand, after all, you truly did love him….but his manners scared you. He loved you entirely too much, and intensely, it was all beginning to suffocate you, especially after what happened over 15 months ago, when you found out that you were pregnant with your boy, yet it was odd to you. You we’re religiously taking your birth control, never skipping a single day, yet right after you discovered your pills had all be replaced by sugar pills of the same size and color, you knew what he had done. He never hid the fact that he wanted a child with you, in fact, it was the way he knew he could keep you grounded forever, not to mention that any children coming from the both of you was considered a result of his devoted love for you. Whether you were ready or not, he didn’t care, his love for you was so great that he sabotaged your education, career, and your future, all by enforcing you into the stages of motherhood so early on.

he was wrong, yes. But things like that made him so powerful, desirable, and worthy of your affection, which is why you had to go. You had to leave, it was for your own good. It didn’t matter if you enjoyed him…..if you loved him….that hardly meant he was good for you. This was the better choice, all to save yourself and raising your child in peace.

you arranged with a long time friend from high school to stay with her, she was dear and loving, and opened up her home to you. She mentioned she would be gone on vacation by the time you arrived, but that she would leave the keys hidden and notify you of the location later.

after a long ride, you finally arrive at your destination. Your child rests, asleep in your arms and cradling your bosom with his small hand. Getting a taxi, you gave the address of the house and was dropped off just shy of 20 minutes away from the station.

your friend texts you and relays the secret location of the house keys. Once you had retrieved them, you let yourself in, all the while carrying your sleeping child. Turning on the lights, you settle in and take your baby upstairs, tucking him in the spare guest room that you’ll both be sleeping in. Nestling him under the blanket, you head back down and begin searching for rentals nearby. You avoided in informing your parents of your sudden move, not wanting to go public with the news until you were able to firmly station yourself, and your son. No doubt they’ll have many question as to why you chose to move without the father of your child, your fiancé, the one whom you were in love with, but deathly afraid of.

Skimming through numerous webpages, you grew tired after saving the top properties of your choice. You tiresomely sigh out as you checked and noticed how late it was. Closing your laptop screen, you sign off and shut off all the lights downstairs, saving the kitchen for last. Getting a glass of water, you nearly gulped the entire glass when something caught your eye from the side, under the shadows of the dining room. Frowning a confused look, you set the glass down on the counter and walked over to the table. Flipping on the lights to the hanging chandelier, you gasped out in horror as you recognized the black cap that was stationed near the edge, along with a pair of unfamiliar keys to what you assumed, was a rental.

"I-it......it cant be....."

Just then, you suddenly thought of your baby napping upstairs. Running up the stairs, you call out your son's name as you swing the door wide open, and turn on the lights. To your relief, he was still in bed, deeply asleep. You walked over, looking around cautiously, even checking the private bathroom and cleared out the closet; no one was in sight. Pulling the blanket up and tucking in your baby, you softly kiss his head before exiting the room. Immediately going through the halls, you scurried through each room to clear out the surroundings. You knew he was here, lurking around, there was no doubt about it. Yet every area you checked was clear, there was no one in sight, not to mention the security system in the house had been activated the moment you arrived. He couldn't have broken or snuck in without setting it off. So then how?.....

With a stale heartbeat, you called up your friend.

"Hello? Y/N? Is everything alright?"

"uh yeah, i was just wondering...if you had access to all your camera systems stationed outside.....would you be able to check them? I thought i saw something...."

"yeah, gimme a sec."

After a few moments, she chimes back in and tells you that all was clear and that the cameras didn't display any signs of an intruder.

"Probably a wild animal roaming around."

"yeah....probably." You respond back, not entirely reassured.

"Get some rest, if anything happens, just call the police. Make sure that your bedroom door is locked."

Nodding, you ended the call and set your phone down. Glancing over to the side once more, you set your sights on the dining table, noting that the hat and keys were still there.

"Heeseung...I know you're here.....come out." you softly call out as you tapped your fingers on the counter top. Rather than being scared and fretting at the thought in running into him, you figured you would brave up and call out to him. Perhaps you can even appeal to his loving sense and talk things over. Yet, no matter how softly you called out to him, the entire house was quiet, and he was nowhere to be found. Other than yourself, and your son, the house was empty. Did he leave? Figuring it was best to call him, you unblocked his phone number as you took another sip out of your glass. The phone rings and you wait for him to answer....but then you heard something. It was faint, yet you recognized the sound. Following the noise, you got closer to the ringtone, it was his ringtone. Trailing through the hallway, you heard it coming from inside the closet. Opening it, all that was displayed were a line of coats and jackets neatly hanged up; sifting through each hanger, you pause upon seeing a black tanker jacket that you recognized. Inside the pocket, was his phone, still ringing as you had him on call. Hanging up, you unlocked his screen and saw an unread text message. Opening it, your eyes slowly widened as you read off the text....

Your breath frozen and you felt your heart drop. Shaking in fear, you slowly turned around, inch by inch, but before you could make a full turn, a shroud of darkness took over your sights as you experienced sudden tunnel vision. Your body goes limp and your weight becomes dense; falling, you felt a strong pair of hands catching you, breaking the fall. Your vision grew blurry, and though it was faint, you could hear his calm voice whispering into your ear as he pets the back of your head, embracing you in his arms.

"Shhh.....shh-sh-sh. Go to sleep babydoll, daddy is here to bring you and baby boy back home." With the feel of his breath grazing over your neck and cheek, you gasped out your words, finding it hard to even speak as you fought against the effects of whatever it was he put in the glass of water you left on the counter top. How careless of you.

"H-Heeseung...?"

With a dark tone to his voice, he grits his teeth into a smirk and responds, right before you black out.

"Wrong name, baby."

Enjoyed this piece? Show love and treat your girl to a cup of coffee. ♥️  ☕ Ko-fi: ko-fi.com/reinbow

[carakook]

Bloom. °˖✧✿✧˖°

"You were just so… fuck, so pretty. So cute."

→ Chapters list ←

⚘3. Flower or Weeds?

🔞For Mature Audiences Only🔞

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

⚘Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

⚘Synopsis: Tonight is all about getting closure from Jungkook so that you can try to move on… but you find yourself wanting to savor your last moments with him rather than dwell on answers to questions you don’t think you really want to know.

⚘Genre:Forbidden love

⚘Word count: 5k+

⚘Warnings: 18+ for mature audiences only, MDNI, emotional, mentions of cheating, mentions of sex (no smut this chapter, but it is talked about), mentions of toxic masculinity, mentions of arguing, vulgar language, breaking up (sort of?), mentions of rough sex, you will probably cry? let me know if I miss anything!

⚘Disclaimer: This story in no way reflects the characters of those who are mentioned. It is pure fiction and for entertainment purposes only. Please don’t take it seriously. Nothing is real in this story.

⚘A/N: Chapter three! So originally this was supposed to be a very long chapter… but I got carried away, and ended up having to split it up because the WC was way too high. 🥲 The next chapter is going to be released at the same time as this one, so you can read it directly after. Sorry this took so long, I didn’t expect to add so much but I did, and then some stuff came up this weekend. Anyway, enjoy this chapter, the one after this will have lots of smut but also… I cried writing it lol. Thank you for reading. ❤️

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :

♪Too Much - The Kid LAROI ft. Jungkook

♪Duvet - bôa

♪My Love Mine All Mine - Mitski

♪Scaredy Cat - DPR Ian

✧━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━✧

Closure is something that is needed anytime something ends. Not everyone gets the luxury of closure; some live their lives constantly thinking about the whys, the what-ifs.

Which is why you should be thankful Jungkook stepped up and offered it to you. You were too chicken shit to ask for it because you knew if you reached out to him, it wouldn’t be for closure; it would be for forgiveness. You’d beg him to take you back. He didn’t have to show up today. He could’ve left you wondering why and what if for the rest of your life. You both need this to move on.

And even in knowing this, you’re dreading it. Because closure means there’s an end… that this is truly ending.

Both of your flowers are about to be uprooted and planted elsewhere, far away from each other. The not knowing is what really makes you feel sick. Where will he go? Will he be nurtured, watered, fed? Will he continue to bloom, or will he wilt much like you are now?

Will he be ok?

What about you? Are you about to be placed in a greenhouse that will carefully protect your wilted petals? Or will you somehow find a garden where you belong and can flourish freely without siphoning the life of a flower that you swear doesn’t belong to you?

Or will you fucking wilt away and die?

It sure feels like you could die. Seeing him on his knees begging nearly killed you, as ridiculous as the gesture was. Seeing Jungkook so desperate and broken has fucked with your head almost as much as the prospect of losing him has.

You never wanted to lose him. Never. But this entire situation… has left you drained. You both know it can’t go on.

One last night, you both swear. Just one. For closure, of course…

You were thankful that the pizza guy showed up shortly after Jungkook got on his damn knees and begged (something you will never get over, by the way.), because neither of you knew where to start, he didn’t really plan this far, swore you’d cast him out. And you have no idea what you want out of this.

He insisted on paying for the pizza, seemed a little too eager to do so. But that’s not abnormal. If there’s an opportunity to buy you something, anything, whether it’s pizza or a necklace that costs half your paycheck, he will do it. He wants to do it.

The little things, they fuck you up. It’s like he’s adding salt to the wound.

Also… Jungkook is an emotional eater at times. He was thankful for the distraction because now he can avoid the awkwardness just a little longer while he stuffs his face with the pizza originally only meant for you.

So now you’re both sitting on your couch. His eyes are glued to the TV as he eats, and he looks irritated. Not because he’s actually irritated, just because that’s how he looks when he eats something yummy. Another one of your favorite things about him. He’s too precious.

The little things. They fuck you up. Again and again. Something as small as watching him eat pizza makes you want to give in to the sin and just let it be.

Maybe you could somehow steal the flower…

“This pizza tastes like sex,” he comments around a mouth full, his cheeks puffed out, and eyebrows scrunched as he chews.

You snort in response because there’s no way that cheap-ass pizza tastes like sex. He’s acting as if it’s a pizza from Italy or some shit. Dramatic.

“Don’t know if a pizza tasting like sex is a good thing, Kook…”

He immediately disagrees, shakes his head, and scrunches his brows further. He starts babbling about how sex is beautiful, the best thing in the world, blah blah blah. But you aren’t listening, not really.

Instead, you’re staring, taking in every little detail of him. The way his mouth moves when he speaks, the freckle below his lower lip moving with it. The way his eyes glitter when he talks about something he’s passionate about, such as sex-tasting pizza, apparently. Fuck, you swear there’s an entire galaxy in those eyes. Never seen eyes so expressive before. Stars and sparkles inside of his irises at all times. Or the way that not once has he looked at you since he started eating and babbling. Not once have those sparkly eyes full of stars glanced your way.

You know why. You know he’s procrastinating. He’s trying to make this seem normal like any other day you’d hang out and fuck around. He’s prolonging it.

You aren’t sure if it’s intentional, but he does this often. He’s so bad at saying goodbye. He would drag it out every single time you used to leave after a night spent together. Would keep saying bye, but then start talking about something, anything. Would tempt you to stay. And it worked every damn time because you didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to leave him ever; you’d stay wrapped up in him for the rest of your life if possible. It’s why you never rushed him when he’d do it. You let him.

You want to let him now. But if you let him, he may never leave. You may never let him go.

You really should speak up, be blunt. Tell him that he didn’t come here to chit-chat and talk about why sex is beautiful or how this pizza is comparable to it; he came here to end this.

But if you did that, you’d have to acknowledge the prospect of closure again.

For you to receive proper closure on your end, there are unanswered questions that you need answers to.

You aren’t sure if you want the answers anymore because most revolve around his wife. The luckiest woman in the world, you think.

There are curious questions such as what her name is, how he met her, how long they’ve been married, and what she’s like… these aren’t important, just things that you’ve laid awake wondering at times when the guilt or jealousy started becoming too much.

Then there are questions like does he love her, why he did this, does she love him, why he did this, is he happy, why he did this, will he stay with her forever, why he did this…

Why did he do this to you both?

You know you’re both in the wrong. You’ve been sleeping with a married man, fuck, you fell in love with a married man, and you knew that he was married. That is wrong. So so so wrong. But you didn’t know at first. If you did, nothing he said would have convinced you to even look at him twice.

But it became regular. You slept with him once. Then you did it again. And you kept doing it. And at that time, while you were wearing those rose-colored glasses adorned in petals and leaves that fell off of him every time you crossed paths, you swore he was the one. Fell so quickly it was alarming.

Finding out he was married should have stopped this all. But you were already so fucking gone for him, so stupid in love, that you did it anyway. You told yourself that maybe one day he’ll leave her for you. You can run away together, build your own garden together, and live happily ever after.

It was delusional to think like this and you know it.

It’s exactly why you’re in your current position.

But you will never move on without the answers to those questions. You need to know, or it will plague you. This man planted your seed, nurtured your sprout, and made it grow beautifully into a flower. But the same man also put up umbrellas and blankets in an attempt to protect you from the rain and harsh sun, the harsh realities of his life, which really just made you wilt. You needed the rain, and you needed the sun; without it, you became tired and suffocated and confused.

He wanted so badly to protect you from the selfish choices he was making, but in the end, it just hurt you. Prevented you from flourishing to a full bloom like him.

And now you must pay the consequences, ask these questions you dread asking, and hear the answers that just might break you.

“Kook… we need to talk. Can’t put it off or you’ll stay forever.” You smile sadly as you pull him out of his rant.

He blinks at you, cheeks still stuffed with his third slice of pizza now. He knows you’re right. He knows damn well what he’s doing, he always knows. Always drags goodbyes out on purpose because he can’t fucking stand them.

He thought maybe if he distracted you, you’d forget why he’s here. It would turn into a normal night, and this entire thing could just be categorized as a brief nightmare… A man can dream.

He nods, looks sort of like a scolded child, and it makes your heart crack. Makes you want to cry, coddle him, coo at him, treat him like a damn baby even though he’s a grown-ass man.

“Right, sorry.”

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sets his piece of pizza down, looking at it as if it kicked his dog. Starts biting at his lip ring.

You hate it when he does that.

Because you fucking love it when he does that.

“Y/N, I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to… give you whatever you need to move one. So please tell me what you need. Just want my girl happy.”

His girl.

Funny, because it seems like a slip-up. It’s not. He knows what he said. He meant it. Doesn’t care if you scold him. Because as long as he’s here before he says bye for good, you are his girl.

You wish he wouldn’t say shit like that right now though. Just makes it so much harder for you. Reminds you that yes, you are his girl. But no, he isn’t your man.

If only you knew that he really is your man. You fucking own his heart, his soul, his body, his damn brain. You live in it rent-free. You consume him. Without you, he wouldn’t even have a flower, wouldn’t even know he’s capable of blooming.

But he knows he can’t give himself to you fully, not as long as he’s married.

Another reminder as to why he’s here.

You sigh, rub your forehead with the back of your hand. Because fuck, you don’t know either. You could ask the curious questions, the more necessary questions, you could pick his brain and pick him apart too, but you don’t want to deal with the heavy shit. Only what is needed.

Because you know that once he walks out that door, you’ll be fucked for a while.

So you grab his hand, the one that’s moved up and started tugging on his lip ring nervously. You intertwine your fingers, and hold on for dear life.

Deep breathes. This is needed.

“Why… why did you do this? Why did you cheat on her to begin with..? Have you done it before or like… fuck. I just wanna understand.”

The moment you ask if he has done it before, he lets out a laugh. An almost pained laugh, because of course you’d think that. Once a cheater, always a cheater. That’s what is often said. And Jungkook totally agrees.

But god, it isn’t like that at all. He is so against cheating. He thinks it is so selfish and so wrong. Yet here he is, in your apartment, while his wife is on a business trip somewhere in Paris.

He’s not a cheater. Doesn’t want to be called that. You just became an exception. What was going to be a mistake turned into the best thing to ever happen to him.

He’s not a cheater, he swears.

He leans back on the couch, jaw ticking as he keeps his eyes on the TV. He’s not watching it, couldn’t even tell you what’s playing, honestly. He just can’t stand to look at you right now. Not when you think he’s some dirty cheater.

He squeezes your hand to ground himself. So soft and small compared to his. Dainty and pretty, he’s always loved your hands. He swears they fit perfectly in his, as cliche as it is, like puzzle pieces.

Two wildly fucked up puzzle pieces that were from two completely different puzzles but somehow managed to fit more perfectly than any of the pieces that were supposed to fit did.

“No… you were my first when it came to cheating. Gonna be my last too. I’m not a cheater.”

What a contradictory thing to say. He knows it, too. He knows how ridiculous he fucking sounds. But he swears he isn’t a cheater. That’s not him. You’re not his mistress…

Just his fucking soulmate. Nothing too heavy. Fuck.

He sighs, scrunches his face a bit before letting his head fall back onto the couch. Still can’t look at you, so he fixes his eyes on the ceiling instead.

“Before we met, me and my wife… our marriage got complicated. I started noticing things I didn’t notice before, and she… changed. Wasn’t acting like the girl I used to love, but like a stranger. It was like as soon as she got comfortable in our marriage, she switched up… became the complete opposite of who I thought she was once we both graduated college.”

He wavers momentarily because he’s terrified you’ll think he’s making excuses. He’s not. He just doesn’t know how to fucking admit this shit. Has never talked about it with anyone. Has never admitted how utterly fucked his marriage is.

He doesn’t want you to see him as less of a man like his wife does. He’s fucking terrified that your last impressions of him will be similar to his wife’s ongoing dislike for him.

“We kept arguing, kept having issues… and she grew distant. I was having some issues, uh… getting it up. And when I tried talking to her about it, she just checked out it seemed. As if my dick malfunctioning made me unloveable or something…”

He scoffs at that, shakes his head. To this day it makes him feel like shit. Makes him feel unworthy of being called a man, her man. Makes him feel gross and broken. As if maybe instead of a flower, he’s a weed. A pesky weed she can’t seem to get rid of.

“There were other things of course, but that’s when she really pulled away. Wouldn’t look at me, or touch me… wouldn’t even give me a fucking hug. So it drove me kind of crazy, made me start doing stupid shit. Was a bad time.”

This is when he finally chooses to look at you. As much as he can’t bear it, he is itching to see if you’re looking at him with disgust yet. Has he become a weed for you, too? Fuck, is that all he ever was for anyone? Was he ever even a flower?

As he looks at you, he doesn’t see disgust. Doesn’t see anything, really. Which is almost worse because that means your walls are up. You’re building a fence as he speaks, as he shares his dirt-covered secrets with you. You’re protecting your wilted flower. He can’t blame you, but god, he fucking hates it.

“So I went to the club that night I met you, didn’t know what I was looking for. Just wanted to get some sort of rush, or attention… honestly was gonna flirt around but I never planned on actually cheating. I just wanted to feel… fuck, wanted, I guess… it was my fucked up way of proving to myself that I wasn’t unloveable. Pathetic, I know.”

He’s right about one thing: you are putting walls up. But not for the reasons he assumes… it’s because it breaks your heart to hear this shit. He keeps his eyes downturned as he speaks, and you see something in them that you’ve never seen before. They aren’t shiny and glittery and full of stars like they are usually; they’re full of shadows. Self-loathing. Resentment. Sadness.

He hates himself, you realize. It’s something you never noticed until now. Because when he’s with you, he doesn’t look like that. His eyes glitter the most. Full of hearts and stars and flowers, like in those cartoons.

It’s because when he’s with you, he doesn’t feel that way. He doesn’t doubt himself. He doesn’t hate himself. He feels full and loved and wanted.

When he’s at home, when he so as much thinks of his wife, he feels the opposite. He feels like fucking dirt. Like weeds.

So easy to forget about when he’s with you.

He debates on how much detail to go into about that night, about why he was so tempted by you. Should he tell you he got butterflies? That you stroked his ego in a way no one else has? That he thought for the first time ever, maybe his wife wasn’t the most pretty girl in the world, maybe it was you?

That he wanted to fuck your brains out but kiss you stupid afterward?

He doesn’t know. He wants to tell you these things because he wants you to know how loved you are. He doesn’t want to end this with you feeling guilty and undeserving because of what you’ve both done. He wants you to know that no matter how misplaced it may seem, you are the most lovable person he has ever met.

So fucking easy to love.

He clears his throat, tries to prevent himself from getting choked up. Squeezes your hand again for comfort, just because he can.

“Obviously I did cheat that night, with you. You were just so… fuck, so pretty. So cute. Was hard not to want you, especially with how you reacted when you noticed me staring… it doesn’t make it right, but I really didn’t plan to pursue you long term. Just wanted one night with you, wanted to feel wanted. Wanted to be touched and loved on so fucking badly, god…”

The glitter in his eyes returns.

“That’s why I didn’t tell you I was married. And I know I was so wrong for that. I should’ve told you, shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess. But I didn’t see the need to because I swear it was only supposed to be for a night, Y/N. I swear. Wasn’t even going to stay after we had sex. Was gonna go back to my wife and beg for forgiveness…”

The glitter turns into stars.

“But the way you touched me… the way you looked at me… the way you talked my damn ear off when we were done… I was so fucked for you. Probably sounds crazy, but it was bad enough that the sex was so good, that you were so damn beautiful it physically hurt me… what made me act stupid and ask for your number and stay the night was how sweet you were. How you really did make me feel wanted, you spoke to me like I was precious or some shit and all I did was fuck you.”

Because he is precious. If you grab a dictionary right now and look up the word precious, you are absolutely certain Jeon Jungkook will be the definition.

So fucking precious.

No longer stars, but hearts and moons and planets fill his eyes. The warm lights in your apartment reflect beautifully, making it so prominent, making the things you refuse to acknowledge too obvious.

He’s looking at you now. So adoringly. So hopelessly. And you see it again; you see exactly what you have refused to acknowledge every time he looks at you: he is so fucking in love with you, maybe even more than you are him.

Clear as day. Something you can’t possibly ignore or even deny in this moment. A Bearded Iris at full bloom, gifted with strength, love, care, hope, and admiration dedicated to you. The tips of his petals are adorned in a rich lavender color, and he swears that the color was stolen directly from your Aster. Speckles of you all over the Iris.

All because of you. Always you. Only you.

Much like your Aster, the flower rumored to have grown to resemble stars when there simply weren’t enough in the sky, his eyes glittered with those little stars, also only ever because of you.

His flower. His star. His love. His fucking soul. That’s what you are; that’s what you have been. Mistress by technicality, but god, you were never that to him.

You were everything. You are everything.

Seeing it, really seeing it, it changes everything for you.

But it still isn’t enough of an excuse to let this go on.

“So in short my marriage is fucked. Has been fucked for a while, way before you. I didn’t go out that night with the intent to cheat, but I did, because I’m a selfish bastard. And I kept it going with you because I’m a selfish bastard. Im so fucking selfish for you, Y/N. There is no excuse. But I don’t regret it. Don’t care if I go to hell, or if karma bites me in the ass someday. I would do it over and over and over again because I grew to love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my entire life, including my wife.”

And he did. He means that with his entire being. He grew to love you quickly, he grew because he loved you, he grew because you loved him.

You say nothing at first because it’s a lot to take in. He was honest, didn’t sugarcoat anything, and admitted to being selfish. Both of you are so selfish for each other, yet selfless when with each other. It’s all so fucked.

He’s being vulnerable, and you know that he is. He’s looking at you now, biting at his lip ring again. He’s terrified that you won’t like what he said, what he admitted. He’s overthinking heavily because if this is your last night together, he doesn’t want to leave with you thinking he’s an awful man. He’s not. He swears he’s not. He doesn’t want you to see him through the same glasses his wife does.

He swears to god that he will get on his knees again and beg for your forgiveness. He’s not above blubbering and begging again until you forgive him one last time.

But you don’t think any of that. God, you could never. You’re silent because you see him. You really see him. You see all of the things that you were in denial about before. The love, the trust, the adoration, the soul-crushing dedication that he has for you. You aren’t wearing any glasses… Not the rose-colored glasses you had on at first, not the smudged dirty glasses his wife wears, not the funhouse glasses that he wears when looking in a mirror, nothing. You just see him. Eyes clear, and nothing obstructing your vision.

Even with all of that, he’s still a coward. He’s still choosing to end this rather than leave his wife, who you hate even more now knowing what you know. But unlike before, you understand. You may not understand fully, but you don’t fault him.

This wasn’t him being selfish because lust was clouding his judgment. This was him being selfish because he truly did love you. Love makes people selfish. You’d be a hypocrite to fault him for that when your love for him has made you oh so selfish too.

And while all of this has given you the ability to breathe, given you some sort of closure you didn’t really realize you needed… it’s not enough to keep this going.

It can’t go on.

You could keep prying. You could ask more questions. You could dig through his dirt and find unnecessary answers about his wife. Feed your growing curiosity.

Or this can be enough. This can be the closure and the answers you need to move on… and maybe you can enjoy this last night together.

Just one more night.

Instead of feeding your growing curiosity, you can feed each others flower with your shared soil before you’re both uprooted and taken far away from each other.

“Y/N, please say something, I feel like I’m about to puke.”

You blink up at him, realize it’s been a few minutes since he last said anything. You were silent for an awkward amount of time, and his mind is reeling, full of anxiety because he has no fucking clue what you could possibly be thinking.

You give him a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, squeeze his hand again before speaking.

“Sorry, I was just… thinking. Zoned out.”

He bites his lip ring hard because, again, he has no idea what you’re thinking. Are you disgusted? Do you think he’s less of a man? Do you hate him now? Is his flower no longer as beautiful as you once thought now that you see all the creepy crawlers underneath his soil?

“Thinking about what?”

He tries not to sound too eager to know, even though he’s very fucking eager. He feels like his entire body is itching because of the anticipation; the not knowing kills him, too. Usually, he’s so good at reading you, your facial expressions, your eyes in particular, he swears he can read you by those alone. But he has no idea what is going through your head right now.

In reality, he’s just overthinking. He feels guilty. Guilty for how things have turned out and guilty for hurting you. The guilt makes the cogs in his brain move way too fast and causes him to be unable to process the shit he usually could.

You know this; you can easily tell by how he’s playing with the hem of his shirt and biting his lip. Also, the fact that he refused to look at you before but now literally will barely blink because his eyes are so intently on you, cataloging every tiny expression you make.

You hate how unsure he is now that he spoke the truth, as if all of this causes your love for him to wither away. It doesn’t. Not at all.

“Thinking about how that’s all I need regarding closure… would rather not talk about it anymore. Would rather just enjoy our last night as lovers together… if you want, of course.”

Now he’s the silent one… because, fuck, really? That’s it? You aren’t going to go in on him for being a scumbag cheater? You aren’t going to ask a billion questions about his wife? You aren’t going to take your weed-eater and cut him out like the weed that he suddenly is?

That’s it?

He stares at you, blinking a few times, as if maybe the more he blinks, the less delusional he’ll be. But your face says the exact same thing his did. You love him. You love him so goddamn much. He isn’t a weed; when he looks into your eyes at this very moment, he sees his reflection… and it’s the Bearded Iris. It’s him.

He’s your flower, just as you are his. You don’t hate him, you don’t even resent him… you just love him for what he is.

This makes it so bittersweet for him because for the first time in a while, he doesn’t feel totally worthless or unloveable. If you can love him, if you can see him at full bloom, then surely he isn’t broken and unworthy of love. It’s so sweet.

Bitter because he can also see the finality in your eyes. The love never disappears, but the goodbyes are silently written in your eyes. You’re stern in your decision. Jungkook is good at being delusional sometimes, but in cases like this, it’s impossible…

He knows it has to end. If you want it to end, he won’t fight. He doesn’t want to make you wilt anymore than he already has.

He just wants you to bloom. Even if it isn’t for him, he just wants you to heal, grow, and bloom all over again.

You can’t do that when he is weighing you down, tugging on your roots beneath the soil.

So he nods. Rubs at his eyes for a moment because he feels like he could cry, but he doesn’t want to cry. Doesn’t want your last night together to be full of sadness, just wants to savor it.

Feels like the last day on earth, almost. A similar feeling you get when watching those zombie apocalypse movies, and you see people and their loved ones spend their final days together before turning into zombies.

Maybe a bit dramatic, but there’s some truth to that… he knows once he loses you, he will become a zombie.

He brings your hand that’s still in his to his lips, and he places the softest kiss there while looking at you through his lashes.

“I’d like that. So much.”

You give him another sad smile. You feel the same, as if this is the end of the fucking world and this is your last night together.

You almost wish it was because then you could die together. You wouldn’t have to live with grieving each other when you’re both very much alive.

You wouldn’t have to watch his flower be torn out of the ground and carried away. You wouldn’t have to wilt anymore.

Dramatic. So fucking dramatic. But god, love feels dramatic. Especially love like this.

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