#a deep desperate ache to be useful!!! to add something. anything. to this world

[simptasia]

why didn't charlie call claire "luv". why didn't he throw out a casual luv at his friends. he's a northerner what else is he good for

[scarletttries]

What One Piece Characters Are Like In A Relationship...(Part Two)

Request: "Greetings, could I ask for headcanons of what Buggy the Clown and Dracule Mihawk are like in a relationship?"

Pairings: Buggy x Reader, Mihawk x Reader, Shanks x Reader

Part One (The Straw Hats) here / One Piece Masterlist

Buggy the Clown:

- It's impossible to overestimate the sheer vulnerability it took for Captain Buggy to speak genuinely and honestly when he finally confessed his feelings for you. A man who's spent so much of his life hidden behind a painted facade and a wicked smile, he tried to fight his truth for so long, forcing himself to treat you like just another pirate on his ship when there's nothing you could do that wouldn't stand out to him. The sincerity with which you speak to him, the way you don't gawk at his appearance, the fact that you never engage in the mutinous whispers of those around you. It wasn't long until you became his most called upon ally on the ship, through genuine appreciation for your insights but also his intense need to have his eyes on you at all times.

- With his feelings out in the open, Buggy is still conflicted in the way he showers his affections upon you. Behind closed doors the man is your personal jester, cracking jokes and using his gifts to keep you smiling and entertained constantly. Honestly that man would do anything to keep you looking at him, the warmth of your gaze enough to undo decades of cruelty and ridicule.

- Around the crew though, your captain likes to keep his adoration discrete. There are a lot of people out there that would love to have something they could use against him, and he knows deep down he'd surrender everything he's ever worked for if it stopped a single hair on your head being harmed. So despite how Buggy feels like he is bursting at the seams with joy every time he sees you, he insists on keeping things a secret for as long as the two of you can, lasting on longing looks and subtle contact for the price of your safety.

- That does add a certain desperation to the clown's behaviour towards you though, not that you mind. The moment you close a door he'll be on with you in a flash, all hungry lips and pressing his chest flush with yours to bathe in your warmth while he still can. He needs you overwhelming all of his senses, to fill his heart back up before he has to face the day without you again. Sometimes when he knows you'll be apart for a while, he'll tell the crew he's lost a hand somewhere on the ship so he can leave one tucked securely in your pocket, subtly interlacing his fingers with yours whenever the day gets to be too much; the powers he once feared made him a devil, now giving him the chance to stay by an angel's side forevermore.

Dracule Mihawk:

- A life as the world's greatest swordsman can be a lonely one. Going wherever he's paid to go. Never putting down roots. Knowing that one day he might just find someone desperate enough for his title to kill for it. Mihawk had accepted this life with a certain pride, until he found something else he wanted to be the best at.

- Another night in another island bar had his path crossing with yours, the briefest of exchanges leaving an aching hole in his chest like he'd never experienced before. It was like your smile sent a spark his way that had his whole body going up in smoke, a fire lit inside him that he had only felt once before; for his pursuit of swordsmanship. He knew nothing would quell that desire except giving in fully to the devotion.

- Dracule is extremely attentive to your every whim. He's never really been tied down before he enjoys the grounding that comes from having someone else to influence each of his days. Nothing fulfils him like making one of your wishes come true, his dedication to your partnership unwavering no matter what the world throws at you both.

- He would take enormous pride in teaching you a few of his sword-fighting moves, framing the sessions as just a way to share in his two favourite things (swords and you), but in the back of his mind also very conscious that a time may come when you need to defend yourself from his enemies. Naturally he'll find a way throw your practice fights so the two of you end up on the floor together, his sword cast aside as he exclaims that you are the only person in all the seas that has ever disarmed him so. Don't be expecting to leave that floor for a while once he has you in his grips.

Shanks:

- When you work in a popular port town you see a lot of pirates come and go. So it's pretty noticeable when a certain captain seems to do all his supply runs in your specific shop. Shanks is not at all subtle that he's continually coming to town for you, your first conversation enough for him to reveal that you might be the only person he's ever met that could convince him to give up the pirate life and settle down.

- You don't ask him to do that, instead the two of you settle for frequently being apart, but relishing in every second you get to spend together when you can. Every moment that Shanks is in your life is filled with fun, whether he's just dancing with you in your lovely little home, or convincing you to come with him on this next adventure, heading to a beautiful island where for once he's confident there's no risk of danger to you.

- When you have to be apart, Shanks will call you late in the night, narrating the view from his perch on the figurehead of his ship. He'll describe every detail of the stars glistening on the waves until the peachy rays of the sun trickle across the horizon, all while knowing the far superior view is wherever you are. He'll never reveal the true danger of his journeys to you, instead giving you joyful reimaginations of the troubles he's faced that day. You can tell when he's had a hard week from the pain in his voice though, so you take the chance to regale him with the softness of your peaceful day, recounting your every step and listening to his breathing slow as a weight lifts off his chest. He tells you how one day he can't wait to dock his ship one final time and fall in step with the life you've built, never having to hear your voice from so far away again.

- He lets that hope carry him through the most tempestuous nights at sea, through all the near misses at the hands of his enemies, through every day spent hiding from a bounty hunter and aching to hear your voice again. He finds himself picturing the two of you raising a family, a tiny crew of your own that will always unite you, the ultimate adventure Shanks can imagine, and one he never thought he'd long for until he thought about living it hand in hand with you.

One piece requests still open!

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ 𝓑𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓭𝓰𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 - 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐼: 𝒯𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒷𝓁𝑒 ⚜

Thank you to @evren-sadwrn for the beta read!

TW: gunshot, crying, John and Vincent being generally nasty to each other

Summary: John Wick and The Marquis de Gramont both faked their deaths on that fateful day at the Basilica. But when Vincent seeks John's help, he isn't expecting genuine compassion.

John was alone. “At home,” yes, “reading”, yes, but most fundamentally, he was alone, with a deep, soft-edged hollowness aching all along the Helen-shaped absence in his life. Dog wasn’t filling that loneliness tonight. Some days were harder than others, and this was one of the hard days. The same paragraph slid past again and again, read but not processed, as that ache grew slowly to rage at the bitter remembrances that cycled through his mind in place of the words on the page.

The sound of the doorbell came as a relief. It could only mean trouble - exactly what John was in the mood for. He took the pistol from the bedside table and closed Dog inside the bedroom – a habit he couldn’t seem to shake when answering the door, ever since Iosef.

“Trouble” wore a cream-colored three-piece suit and pearly pink tie, and a face even paler than those accoutrements. It was a comically poor choice of dress for the events fate had wrought on him that day. Even if he hadn’t been bracing himself against the doorframe in a desperate attempt to stay upright, the massive bloom of red spreading from the center of his chest would have informed John that the Marquis was in dire straits, bleeding out, come to his doorstep to beg. Huh. That sight would cheer him up all evening.

John savored it for a long moment and then began to close the door.

“Wait!”

Resting on the doorknob, John’s hand paused its progress and his eyebrow shot up in a silent expression of, “This had better be good.”

The Marquis began a speech that sounded almost rehearsed. “Let’s make this simple. I am offering you the contract of a lifetime. Not a hit, but something even more suited to your habits. Your job is to thwart the High Table on my behalf until my excommunication is reversed, and I am reinstated as Autem Imperator.”

“Excommunication? For what?”

“For your idiocy at the Basilica, which interrupted my contract. Since you were too much of a coward to face me until I had already fired, you are not dead, and I am being hunted by those fils de pute [sons of bitches]. I set out for the states this morning to end you. But count yourself lucky, Mr. Wick. The Table says it’s too late for that. Your head is no longer wanted – for now. So this is your opportunity to redeem yourself after pulling that completely underhanded stunt. Which, I might add, you botched.”

It hadn’t been a “stunt” he enjoyed pulling. Here was a man infinitely weaker than himself, on a deep, personal level, who lived in desperation. And John had used his own arrogance against him. It was what he deserved for hubris, but to give the Marquis de Gramont what he deserved was to destroy him, and John was tired of destroying beautiful things. Mere boys in their 20s, not so different from himself at that age, forced into that same twisted world. He shook his head, dispelling the memory. “You’re coming to me for protection? Why?”

He clicked his tongue impatiently. “Because! All High Table services are closed to me, but you…you’re completely unaffiliated now.”

“And I’d like to stay that way. If you’re trying to make me want to help, you’re doing a piss-poor job.”

“Oh I don’t need to make you want to do anything. You always take the bait eventually, because that is who you are. You answered the door, didn’t you? Bored of your precious retirement?”

John glowered. “I worked very hard for my retirement, as you may recall.”

“Only to relinquish it again and again. You are going to do the only thing you’re good for these days: poke the High Table only to outrun them with your tail between your legs. Except this time, it will be for a purpose that’s worth something. Try to think rationally for a moment. If there was ever a question of whether to leave you undisturbed, I could speak for you. On the other hand, if you spurn me today, you’ll - ”

“Don’t threaten me.” John closed the door. Didn’t even slam it.

He went to the basement, to fetch something. Could have told the Marquis where he was going, but why waste words? Besides, it was worth making him squirm a little.

When he returned to the door, Vincent had not moved from the spot. He blinked when the door opened, as if shaken from a trance.

John made no comment on it. He simply held up a marker. The little, cold weight of the metal felt hateful in his hand. A dreaded thing, a pin at the center of a butterfly. Something he’d only wish on his worst enemy. He handed it to Vincent. “This is not for your reinstatement as Autem Imperator. This is for your survival until you’re freed from the High Table.”

He scoffed. “You think I’m willing to give you a marker for the sake of mere survival? That is not the deal, Mr. Wick.”

“That is the deal. Mark it.”

“Payment upon receipt of services. Let me in first.”

By way of answer, John stood aside, and watched the Marquis drag himself through with a maddeningly victorious smirk. He limped his way to the sofa, with John following, not letting him out of his sight for a moment.

He didn’t even have to use the needle for a finger prick. He pressed his thumb to his heart, where there was already plenty of blood soaking through the button-down, and then into the brass. John took it back and snapped it closed again, sealing the debt.

It was only then that The Marquis added, “We’ll see whether the Table thinks I owe you anything before I’m reinstated. It’s your word against mine as to what that marker was for, and we all know which of us holds more sway.”

“Some way to honor a blood oath.” If he’d actually planned on using the marker, John would have kicked him right back out again for that. But in all honesty, it was just leverage. He opened the door again long enough to glance up and down the street. “Who shot you? Did they follow you?”

“I’m not such a novice as to lead them back. Some hitman at a gas station recognized me, but we lost him. By tomorrow morning, my bodyguard will be in another country, leading the High Table away from here.” He shuddered. “Now shut the door, it’s cold.”

It wasn’t the coldest night. Furrowing his brow, John turned his attention back to his new charge, who was looking paler by the moment. He shut the door. “Lay down.”

The Marquis did not comply. “You’re just an absolute mother hen, aren’t you, ‘Baba Yaga’? Going soft?” he seethed, teeth clenched, breathing through his nose and shutting his eyes in a bid to maintain composure. John knew the look. The feeling of shoving down pain and fear, holding your breath and restraining your muscles, actively ignoring the body’s bright red flashing lights that scream “we are not okay right now.” It was hard, and Vincent was amazingly bad at it. He probably didn’t have to do it very often.

John forced down the twinge of pity that rose up at that thought. The Marquis wouldn’t want it anyway. “Suit yourself. I’m going to get a first aid kit. If you’ve moved from that spot when I get back, I’ll shoot you.”

“Anything you say.” Vincent opened his eyes long enough to smirk and raise his hands innocently, as if playing along with the demands of a child. Unfortunately, the effect was spoiled slightly by the shake in his hands.

Fortunately, when John returned, he hadn’t moved.

“Shirt off.” It was painful just to watch as he tried to raise his arms, wincing, and struggling with the suitcoat. No doubt even more painful to be watched. By the time he got to the tie, John stepped in. “We don’t have all day.”

A venomous glare. He looked ready to cut deep. “Are you so eager to touch me, John? That lonely, in this big empty house, with all your ‘love’? Pathetic.”

Anger got the best of him for a moment and he shoved Vincent by the center of his chest, directly over the spreading patch of crimson. The result was a winded kind of wheezing that afforded him enough leeway to strip away as much fabric as needed.  Pink silk sliding through his collar. The top four buttons undone. Underneath, parted flesh echoed the parted flaps of the button down.

Panting, the Marquis chuckled weakly. “Guess I’m right. I got to you.”

“Fuck. Off.”

“How bad is it?”

John had already steadied himself and started inspecting the wound. “Could be worse. Came in at a glancing angle – only tore muscle on the left side. Then it hit your sternum.”

“Je suis à nouveau épargné [I am spared again],” he breathed, with a little dimpled smile.

“Not yet. I need to pull it out.”

“Without anesthetic!? You have to be joking.”

“I don’t have anesthetics in this house. I’ve done this dozens of times. They aren’t necessary.”

“That’s different. You’re a barbarian.”

“And you’re too chicken?”

Vincent tilted up his chin importantly. “Fine. I’m ready.”

“No, you’re not. Bite down, I don’t want a noise complaint.” The discarded tie had found a new use already.

Vincent grimaced at the metallic taste of his own blood on the silk and spat it back at him. “We’d have no concerns over a noise complaint if you weren’t allowed to run rampant and uncivilized. I had forgotten how intolerable the common assassin can be. At least my Myrmidons  - ”

John shoved it back in his mouth, and tied it behind his head this time. Without hesitation, he dove tweezers into the wound and Vincent’s muffled screaming filled the room, making the air heady and vivid.

It was over in a second, but then there was the antiseptic, and the stitching took much longer.

It was all one long, meditative moment for John. He was unexpectedly flooded with adrenaline and had to force himself not to rush. There was the rage, but then there was something else, such a desire to make this quick, to offer some kind of mercy. He kept seeing Vincent’s too-wide, horrified eyes the fraction-of-an-instant before he took the shot that pointless, bloody morning in the Basilica Of Sacré Coeur De Montmartre. Neither of them dead, in the end. Just two faked deaths and a few more bad memories. Just a young man, weak, scared of John, scared of failure, driven mad by the constant push towards power, the constant belittling, the constant threat of death from all sides that was life under the High Table.

It was almost over when there was a buzz from Vincent’s coat pocket at the foot of the couch. Shit. The last thing they needed was for Vincent to get even more riled up by bad news.

“Don’t move. You don’t want to look at that right now anyway.”

His eyes were daggers. “The insolence to tell me what I want to do.” He tried to reach for it regardless but failed. “That’s my business phone. Give it to me.”

Sighing, John dove into the pocket and tossed it to him. He caught a glimpse of the screen as it passed: a contract notice. “What does it say?”

“I – nothing. Surely a mistake.” He closed the phone and tossed it aside, feigning indifference.

John picked it up. Contract for Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont: $20 Million. Open. International. Special alert to New York. Personal bodyguard already deceased.  “The guy who saw you must have called in a tip to the High Table…I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? You're an embarrassment.” Vincent gave a breathy, half-hearted laugh and began to list sideways, deathly pale. John caught him and lowered him into a laying position, pulling his legs up over the armrest. He took Vincent’s wrist between two fingers and his thumb.

“What are you…”

“Taking your pulse.” It was absolutely flying, dozens of little taps flickering against his fingertips in the space of a second. The Marquis’ eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, overwhelmed by the awareness of his own blood. But his expression remained frozen, a desperate grasp for some semblance of dignity.

“You’re either in shock or having a panic attack. Probably both.”

“I am not having a panic attack.”

“Fine, then you’re in shock.”

“So fix it.”

“I’m trying. You need to elevate your legs, and you need to calm down.”

“I need to calm down,” he repeated, sarcastic. The little taps accelerated. Not helping. He jerked his hand away, his voice rapidly pitching upward into a kind of hysteria. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die.” That’s true, John thought, if you don’t calm down. “You. This is your fault, for a second time. This is why you are alone, a pathetic widower. You are cursed. Everything you touch dies, John Wick, you are poison. Good for nothing.  Je vais mourir. [I’m going to die.] This is fate. God is against me.”

This time, he didn’t take the bait. The situation was quickly becoming critical. “Vincent. Breathe.”

He was gasping now, between every other word, almost delirious. “Espèce de pion…sans valeur [You worthless pawn]! My name…is The Marquis de Gramont! You will…address me…by my title!”

John muttered a curse under his breath. Think, accommodate this asshole’s massive ego if that’s what it takes. He had destroyed many people, but rarely had someone been so fragile before him, so absolutely in need, and by extension (ironically), so innocent. Looking down at him, he suddenly viewed Vincent as something other than an asshole, something beyond judgement. An animal that lacked concepts like reason or remorse. Just something that suffered, and wanted, and needed, and that he was charged with treating according to its nature. “Marquis de Gramont,” John said calmly but forcefully, and, even though it wasn’t true, “Autem Imperator.” Please don’t pass out, he thought. Please don’t die on me. “Regarde-moi et respire. [Look at me and breathe.]” He pressed a hand into each of his shoulders, physically stopping the shaking. Physical contact, but more dignified than the hug he wished he could offer, hopefully less likely to make Vincent feel pathetic. He let his face go flat and his voice perfectly monotone, neither pitying nor dismissive, but simply a statement of fact. “Tu vas bien. Je ne vais pas te faire de mal. Ce à quoi vous survivez actuellement est extrêmement difficile. Tu te débrouilles bien. Je ne vais pas mentir, je déteste tes tripes, mais tu ne devrais pas être obligé d’être dans cette position. Cela me fait chier aussi. Alors je ne vais pas te laisser mourir. Je veux que tu ailles bien et je ferai en sorte que cela se produise. [You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you. What you’re surviving right now is extremely difficult. You’re doing well. I won’t lie, I hate your guts, but you shouldn’t have to be in this position. It pisses me off too. So I’m not gonna let you die. I want you to be okay and I will make that happen.]”

He half expected Vincent to spit insults again, but he just stared, unable to respond. It may have been his imagination, but he thought he saw Vincent’s eyes glaze slightly, pinprick pupils finally swelling open. Leaving one hand on his shoulder, John pulled the coat over his body, arranged it into place, and resumed the firm pressure on his shoulders. A human simulation of a weighted blanket. For a moment, he shivered even more violently, adjusting to the heat, and then let out an exhale as the peak of the terror began to subside.

Then those insults began to come. “This is exactly why I hate you. This sickeningly sweet nonsense that you spout. It makes me depressed to look at you. You say this - this fairy tale merde [shit], like you’re noble. But the world doesn’t work that way. It’s an affront to my intelligence. There’s no mercy waiting for you.”

“Maybe not. But there is for you. Even if I have to make sure of it myself.”

“I - “ his voice gave out into a sob and he turned his entire head away, into the cushions.

Heavy, sparkling droplets clinging to eyelashes, half-parted, twisted-up lips pressed into the fabric, the most wrenching sounds… He looked beautiful crying, and that thought did not belong in John’s head. He averted his eyes respectfully, partly so the Marquis would be free to turn back towards him if he wanted, and partly to avoid feeding whatever god-forsaken thing had just reared its head inside him.

They sat that way a long time, in silence, Vincent’s shoulders shuddering under the rock of John’s weight, sobs escaping a torn-open chest.

And as the Marquis’ muscles finally relaxed, John felt something. He felt something for this mess of barely restrained malice and misery pinned underneath him. An urgency, all through his body, his own heart taking flight as Vincent’s came to rest. I want you to be okay and I will make that happen, he had said. That was true.

It was then that John knew he was fucked.

Next ▹

[cptg00s3]

Tale of tragic love

Here I am again, finally done with school, so I decided to treat you with a fanfic again. Same things go for everyone of my fanfics

she/her, she/they any female aligning person dni. My blog is strictly for male and gn readers. I've already had to block way to many of you.

Now, for the trigger warnings: cannon typical violence, death of reader, heavy angst and obviously my writing skills. If I missed any just comment and I'll add it.

Nowww go and enjoy

The sun casts a warm, golden glow over the vast plains of New Hanover as Arthur Morgan and I ride side by side, our horses gracefully navigating the rugged terrain. The weight of our journey rests heavily on my shoulders, for I carry a secret that threatens to shatter our fragile existence.

Arthur's face, etched with lines of worry and exhaustion, mirrors the toll our tumultuous lives have taken. The world we inhabit is filled with danger and uncertainty, but in each other's arms, we've found solace and love. Little does he know that my time is running out, that the illness ravaging my body will soon claim my life.

We press on, driven by a desperate hope for redemption and freedom. Every step closer to our destination fills me with a mix of determination and dread. Coughs wrack my weakened frame, each one a painful reminder of the inevitable fate that looms over us.

Arthur's presence is both a comfort and a source of torment. He fights relentlessly to protect me, unaware that it is I who am slipping away. I long to share my burden with him, to spare him the pain of my impending departure, but the fear of breaking his heart keeps my secret locked deep within.

As we navigate the trials and tribulations of our journey, Arthur's loyalty shines through, his unwavering dedication evident in his every action. He stands up against injustice, offering aid to the downtrodden and fighting for those who cannot fight for themselves. I watch him, filled with love and admiration, knowing that my time with him grows shorter with each passing day.

The climactic battle against the malevolent Micah Bell draws near, our lives intertwined with the fate of countless others. Arthur's strength and resilience shine through, his gun blazing with purpose. I fight by his side, my actions driven by the desire to protect him, to cherish every moment we have left.

As the battle reaches its crescendo, the disease within me tightens its grip. Each breath becomes a struggle, and I stumble, collapsing to the ground. Arthur rushes to my side, his voice filled with concern and fear. He cradles me in his arms, his touch a bittersweet reminder of the love we share.

Gasping for breath, I must find the courage to tell him the truth, to release the burden that has weighed me down. Tears fill my eyes as I gaze into his worried gaze, his love and devotion etched deeply into every line on his face.

"Arthur," I manage to whisper, my voice weak but filled with determination. "There's something... something I need to tell you."

His eyes widen with concern, his grip on me tightening. "What is it, [M/n]? You can tell me anything."

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I reach for his hand, intertwining our fingers. "I... I have an illness, Arthur. It's eating away at me, consuming my body from within. My time... our time together is limited."

Arthur's breath catches in his throat, his eyes filling with disbelief and anguish. "No, [M/n], you can't be serious. We'll find a way, we'll fight it together."

I squeeze his hand, my heart aching at his hopeful words. "I wish it were that simple, Arthur. But the truth is, I don't have much time left. I wanted... I needed to tell you, so you could prepare for what's to come."

Tears stream down his weathered face as he shakes his head in denial. "I won't accept it, [M/n]. We'll find a cure, we'll do whatever it takes."

I cup his face in my trembling hands, forcing him to look into my eyes. "Arthur, my love, you must understand. There is no cure. I've made peace with my fate, and you must too. Promise me, promise that you'll keep fighting, that you'll keep living."

His voice breaks as he clings to me desperately. "I can't lose you, [M/n]. You're everything to me."

I press my forehead against his, feeling the warmth of his tears against my skin. "You won't lose me, Arthur. I'll be with you, even when I'm gone. Our love will endure."

As the weight of our impending separation sinks in, we hold each other tightly, our bodies trembling with grief. Time slows, the chaos of battle fading into the background, leaving only our shared love and the pain of what is to come.

In that fleeting moment, surrounded by the embrace of our love, I close my eyes, savoring the feel of Arthur's arms around me. I whisper words of love and reassurance, my voice barely audible amidst the sounds of battle. We remain locked in each other's embrace, cherishing our final moments together, the world around us fading into darkness.

And in the quiet stillness that follows, I let go, surrendering to the unknown. Arthur's anguished cries echo in my ears, his grief a testament to the depth of our connection.

In the years that follow, I exist as a whisper in the wind, watching over him from beyond the realm of the living. I witness his continued fight for justice, his unwavering devotion to our shared ideals. I see him carry the weight of our love, his actions driven by the memory of what we had.

For Arthur Morgan, I am but a memory, a love that defies the boundaries of time and space. And as the sun sets on the plains of New Hanover, I watch over him, my ethereal presence a guiding light in his darkest hours, a reminder of the love we shared and the sacrifices we made.

[nikoadari]

Voices, Alone

Trigger Warning: Horror, semi body horror

The last remnants of the storm were a soft pitter-patter against full leaves and blades of grass. It filled the air with a deep petrichor and softened the world until it became a blur. In these times, Keir would usually be crushing up the final ingredients for a tincture while she struggled to keep her mind quiet.

She could listen to the rain better if her thoughts weren’t so loud.

Instead, she sat on the couch, arms wrapped around her knees and forehead pressed hard against them. Her chest felt heavy, like a snake had wrapped itself around her, trying to squeeze out her last breath. She let her chest rise and fall naturally and felt it squeeze tighter.

Just keep breathing, she thought to herself. It’s there but you can breathe. Let’s count to four.

The counting of each breath barely distracted her from the non-pain, but a little distraction was better than none. Her eyes were shut, but they were peaceful, like she was sleeping. She refused to squeeze them tight to fight the things she felt swarming her.

Her ears and nose were under attack, too – some clawing, others gnawing, one or two simply beating her, trying their hardest break into her skull. A few could slide in without the battery and squirmed through her head and down her throat, deep into the pits of her intestines.

She tensed, wanting to retch, and mentally slammed every filthy creature that would never stop invading her body. It worked…somewhat.

A few left. Most stayed.

Her head was beginning to ache. She took another deep breath and tried to empty herself of thoughts, focusing instead on a scan of her body. She unclenched her teeth and unfurrowed her brow, allowing the illusion of peace to take over. Her fists loosened as her arms slid down her legs and came to rest on her bare feet. She would not show them what affect they had on her.

Another deep breath.

She lifted her head and resisted opening her mouth to take in more oxygen; if she did, more would stuff her mouth and throat and there were already so many there that she felt the instinct to chew them like food. She had tried that once as a child, desperate to kill the things sliding down her throat. It hadn’t worked.

1…2…3…4…breathe in. 1…2…3…4…now breathe out.

She sat there, body relaxed and mind nearly empty. Was it a relief that her constantly rushing thoughts had been forced to slow? She could not think long enough to decide. Her head, buzzing then pounding then calming then imploding, bled into the world as it bled into her. Her eyes, a near breeding ground, were half-lidded yet unseeing. Her ears, covered in poisoned kisses and saliva, filled with whispers. And shrieks. And static.

She could barely understand any of it, this strange language they spoke to her, and she had long since stopped trying. It wouldn’t change anything anyway.

Eventually, she found her legs moving. Or was she making them move? She could not tell. She went to the kitchen, undecided about if her body was numb or if her footfalls were sending quicks bouts of sharp pain up her legs.

If it wasn’t her legs that hurt, something else probably did. It was difficult to tell which thing it was, though. Some parts of her never stuck around long enough for her to feel them properly, like her tail, and the parts that did stick around, like her hands, often didn’t send reliable information back to her brain on what they felt.

The water boiler was already filled so all she had to do was flick the switch. As it heated, she took her time in finding a mug and filling it with tea leaves and honey. Maybe she would add lemon for her throat. Did she really want to cut lemon, though? She didn’t want to do anything. But she had to care for herself. No one else could do that anymore.

She decided not to use the lemon.

The sound of rain wasn’t very comforting when accompanied by screams, so she probably turned on a TV show or some video essay, but she didn’t know which and she barely listened. As long as it wasn’t static.

She took a sip from her mug. The tea did little to soothe her throat, but at least it tasted familiar. She wanted to do something. Go outside and gather herbs, perhaps. Or maybe write a letter. Or talk to the trees. Something that would feel like progress. But she didn’t move to do any of that. She wouldn’t get far in this useless state anyway.

Be kind to yourself, she thought, gently chastising her inner critic. You don’t deserve to be thought useless. After everything, you deserve kindness more than screams.

She gulped more tea as something raked its claws through her hair and down her back. There would have been blood if the claws were physical. Blood that would seep into her clothes and hair and would ruin the couch.

She decided not to clean it, though, or tend to her wounds. Being wrapped in bandages would stop her from meeting with her fox friends tomorrow. The pain was already fading, though it would stay throughout the day. A light sting, then a burning throb she would ignore.

The sight of blood on her couch would last only a moment each time she looked at it before disappearing. Eventually, she wouldn’t see it at all. She would not pretend she couldn’t feel or see it like before, but she would pretend she didn’t care.

“Moo ahhhhh,” she sang vaguely, hoping to loosen her throat. Her voice sounded only a little shakier than normal. Her eyes barely blinked away entities who wanted to take hold, and cause pain, and steal.

At least, that’s what she assumed they wanted. It’s what they did to her on a daily basis, after all. She blinked more firmly and felt some entities falling away, dripping from her sockets like black sludge. She knew better than to try brushing it away.

“Taiii yaaaaa,” she continued singing. The spike of panic she would have felt hours – or had it been only a few minutes? – ago from opening her mouth was gone. She could do whatever she wanted. Whenever she wanted. Fear of what these creatures would do to her if she chose to speak or sing is what made her throat hurt in the first place.

“Soy yooooo.” She closed her eyes and let her head throb. “Fee beeeer. Ley naaaaat.” She did not try to truncate or make words out of the gibberish. Nothing about her was quick or succinct right now. Why should her singing be? She wasn’t doing it for anyone but herself.

Venomous whispers filled her ears and the image of them poisoning and spitting in her tea was forced into her mind’s eye. She ignored it, continuing to sing, and took a leisurely sip from her cup when she so desired, every motion more languid than the last.

“Reeeen. Ti ha li’fat. Ben daowwww weeen.”

She dragged the mug to her couch-side table before she fell asleep. Or at least, into the semi-drugged state she so often found herself in after an attack. It felt good. Like a victory rewarded with a good rest.

She settled the nearby throw blanket over her and grinned toothily at the dark figure hovering at the edge of the couch. She could never see its face, and whether it stared at her with hatred or with curiosity she couldn’t tell.

“Get outta my house, bitch.”

She laughed at the outraged and confused cries around her. Destroying all senses of mystique and power for these entities was a nice treat before she fell asleep. What reverence did monsters deserve here?

“You aren’t welcome here.”

Knowing they had not obeyed, she still allowed herself to drift, her ghoulish grin slipping into a serene, soft smile as she fell into darkness.

[tiny-titan-exo]

Eris Morn had not asked for an apprentice. She had not asked for help, not that that had stopped Ikora from sending her Warlocks and the occasional Hunter. But a Titan? That had surprised her.

But Darrix, despite the Exo’s uncanny knack for getting into trouble, had proved to be useful, and all in all very polite, if a bit grating at times. The Exo had been keen to learn everything she could tell them about the Hive, though to her own chagrin, they were much more empathetic to the beasts then the Hive deserved.

When Savathûn’s Throne world opened, Darrix was one of the first to volunteer to enter it, to see what they could find. Eris had felt deeply uneasy then, and she still did. If anything, that feeling of unease had only grown, more and more in the recent days and weeks.

Eris wouldn’t lie to herself, she had abandoned that foolish tactic many, many years ago. But when the two Guardians arrived in the Enclave on Mars supporting a familiar Titan between them, she allowed herself a brief moment to say “It can’t be them.” to herself.

She could not see them clearly, but she didn’t need to, to know something was wrong. Their footsteps were muffled, covered by the dragging sound of metal boots against the hard dirt of Mars.

A gaggle of voices, one lower, gruffer, more calm. Another, higher pitched, scared, teetering on the verge of tears. Ikora Rey stepped forward, her voice calm but decisive. “Woah, slow down, what happened? One at a time, please!”

The two voices stopped, and Eris frowns as she struggles to perceive what exactly was happening. The smaller figure, a warlock, perhaps, shakes under the weight of the large Titan, and it was only then that Eris could make out the familiar, brilliant shine from the Titan’s horned helmet. Something too familiar writhed in her chest, like a knife being shoved through ribs. Cold, uncaring, and deep.

“What has happened?” Her own voice almost surprised her, rippling through the air with a ferocity she had not intended, though it seemed to jostle the two from their panic. “Quickly, tell us so we can help.”

The lower voice speaks, it too was familiar to Eris, though it was harder to place then others, perhaps. Dev-4 was an old Guardian, a certified Young Wolf, in most regards. Officially retired, he had returned to active duty to help train some new lights. He had been a prime candidate, and his calm demeanor was a true testament to why. “It was Savathûn. I don’t know what she did, we had her pinned down, and she grabbed him and he went catatonic. We haven’t been able to wake him since.”

The other voice, the female one, spoke up, choking slightly on her tears, despite so desperately trying to keep her voice as calm as she could. “They keep crying out, like they’re in pain. A-and twitching and just-“ she gestures at the limp Titan, as if unsure what else to say. After a brief moment, she adds: “His uh, h-his Ghost wasn’t hurt. Dipstick is okay, I don’t understand what happened.”

Eris’ hand aches for the comfort of the Ahamkara bone, and she allows herself to grab it, feeling it flush against her hand, a comforting weight. She presses it firmly into her palm, feeling it’s power radiate through her, briefly. It allows her to see, though not as we would. Shapes, illuminated by bright splotches of color, one gold, one blue-black, one, flaming orange, and the last, a dim, but startlingly blue.

Eris approaches the slumped Titan, carefully removing the helmet and lifting their head, noting the lack of response, but feeling a twitch, hearing the whir of optics moving, racing back and forth she could tell what was happening.

“They are dreaming. This is the same kind of magic used on Osiris, but not nearly as strong. He should wake in time.” She pauses, noting how the warlock had, perhaps unintentionally, pulled away from her.

As if to admit her fault, the Guardian pipes up again. “Is there anything we can do? Anything I can do to help?” Eris Morn fixes her with a sharp look, but it wasn’t an unkind one. Briefly, her gaze softens a little.

“Bring him to me on Luna, to the Sanctuary. I may have more that I can do there to help.”

———————————————

It had been several hours since the Fireteam’s arrival on the Moon, and Eris had done all she could to aid her apprentice. Still unconscious, the Exo had stilled now, laid out on a cot in one of the many repurposed Moon bases.

Carefully, the Huntress places an incense burner on the table at the center of the room, lighting the end and blowing the flame out to allow the embers to burn the cone down. A faint smell of rain embraced the room, and Eris pauses to enjoy the calming scent. She knew there was nothing else she could do for now. She only hoped all would be well when the Guardian finally awoke.

Briefly, she runs a hand over the Titan’s forehead, frowning as she thinks to herself. Darrix was a kind soul, almost too kind. She had always known that kindness would be an easy exploit for someone like Savathûn. But deep down she had hoped, no, prayed, that nothing would ever rob them of that virtue, like it had her.

Brushing her thoughts away, the Huntress straightens up, draping a blanket over Darrix’s shoulders before turning to leave. It had been a long day. There was nothing they could do, except wait.

——————————————————

The smell of the Hive was constant on the Moon, but that did not stop Eris from knowing when one was near. Her heart clenched as she approached the room, a hand reaching for the blade at her side. Slowly, the Huntress pushes the door open, peeking inside.

A badly disguised Hive Knight was sitting next to the cot, clutching the Exo’s hand tenderly, but firmly. Like their life depended on it.

Anger welled in Eris Morn’s stomach, hot as a solar flare. She knew this Knight, she knew he was Darrix’s mate, much to her despair. She knew this beast had tainted her apprentice, had possibly even been apart of the ill-fated ritual Savathûn had planned.

The Lightbearing Hive’s eyes slowly raise, only to meet the furious glow of the once Guardian, though Shasur-Tor does not flinch away from Eris’ gaze, holding it steady, and not releasing his love’s hand.

The message was clear. He would rather die then leave his Titan’s side.

For a moment, just a moment, Eris thinks to indulge the Knight’s wish. She could kill him easily, without batting an eye, she could crush his Ghost in her hands and have her moment of revenge.

And then the moment passes, and the cold pit in her stomach returns, almost timidly. Her voice, when she speaks, does not sound like her own, but she forces the words out in a low hiss, a growl, like a wounded animal.

“Get out. If I ever see you here again I will not hesitate to kill you. I will not give you this liberty twice.”

——————————————————

Darrix had not cried when he had helped kill Uldren Sov. He had not cried when the Guardians had been banned from the Tangled Shore. He had not even cried when faced with his phantoms, with his nightmares.

But now? Now, he was sobbing, absolutely beside himself with grief.

A gentle hand wraps itself around the Titan’s shoulder as Peixe sits beside them on the cot, her face etched with concern. Her and Dev-4 had been alerted as soon as Darrix had awoken, though Eris has warned them that Darrix was..emotionally unstable, to put it gently. They had not stopped crying since they had come to, occasionally repeating a phrase or a word, though the familiar touch seemed to jar them just enough to speak coherently.

“Please..I-I can’t mourn him again, please..”

Peixe didn’t know who “him” referred to, but that didn’t stop her from putting an arm around her friend’s shoulders and holding him tight. The Titan’s shoulder shook with the force of their sobs, and she felt bad that this was all she could do.

“Darrix..? Who’s him? I- you don’t have to answer I just. I just want to help.”

For a brief second the shaking stops, as if pulling the Exo from deep thought, though they do not speak for several moments. Dev-4 glances back from his post at the door, blue eyes glowing ever so slightly in the dark. This wasn’t good, and he knew it. He waits with baited breath for an answer.

“Oryx. Oryx, I-I can’t. I can’t mourn him again. I was his consort, his Bishop, I can’t-“

Peixe’s eyes lifted to Dev’s and the two shared the same thought. Their friend had finally, absolutely lost it.

“Darrix, hun, breathe, you’re okay. You’re not hive, you’re a human. An exo. You couldn’t have been Oryx’s consort.” Peixe didn’t know what a Bishop was, but she didn’t think now was the right time to ask. “Savathûn’s playing tricks on your mind, she probably just implanted some false memories-“

Slowly, the Titan’s head raises to look Peixe in the eyes, and she was shocked to see a change that had come over him. The usual golden eyes were paled, one still shining dimly with its golden color, but the other? It was a sickly, hive green. Carefully, Peixe’s hand comes up to cup Darrix’s cheek, her mouth open in silent astonishment.

“I-it’s the truth, Peix. I’ve had flashes of these memories before, I just thought they were dreams, I just-“ hands clasp the side of the Exo’s head, shaking, desperate fingers digging at the metal carapace. “I’ve had some other memories too. Of a human, a guy, just. I think he was some kind of cartographer? He made maps, and sold them during the Dark Ages. But this hive stuff, it-it’s just as real. Their name was Taûryx. A-a cruel, horrible Bishop. The Silence of Oryx.”

Dev’s head jerks back slightly, turning to look at Darrix directly. “The Silence? But, we killed it, back when we did the raid on Oryx. Huge sonofabitch. Nearly caused us to wipe.”

Peixe’s hand shoved into her mouth to keep her from blurting out a thought, and it slowly lowers, teeth marks in the soft flesh. “Darrix? What if you’re like. A hybrid? Look, knowing Clovis Bray, I wouldn’t be that surprised, you know?”

Darrix says nothing, head lowering as they struggle to find the right words. “I don’t know. B-but I can’t. I can’t keep living with this guilt. With these memories, it’s..it’s too much…”

“God, I’m sure. I’m so sorry, Darrix. I-“ She glances at Dev, and then back at Darrix. “What about Banshee? Or Ada? Maybe they’d know how to give you a reset, get rid of these, you know?”

A long silence fills the room, and slowly, Darrix nods. “Anything. Anything to make it go away.”

[starrprincesss]

28.06.2023

I would like to forget each experience. But my memory plays it on a loop, the record is broken, and it won't budge.

I suppose I must be honest with myself. It hurt, it hurt tremendously. Out of stupidity, I wanted love. But everything is a lesson when you're 21. I know that deep down I felt extremely lonely, life felt lacklustre, my home situation is in a constant crumble, and I wanted to escape more than anything. So, I looked for that escape in someone else. I thought if someone could love me, like truly love me, maybe I'd be okay. Maybe living in LA wouldn't feel so bad, maybe my decision of moving back would finally feel correct, maybe I'd have a reason to silently tell the world that I have value, and that someone else recognises it in me. What pains me more than anything is that this time I actually tried, this time I was honest, this time I decided to be sweet and open. This time I cared for someone, and I showed it, I showed it completely. Because I thought I was okay to do so, because I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I had found the "one". How silly of me, to think that at 21 I could find the love of my life. Now the question that is actually the answer to my dilemma is; why do I desperately feel as if I must find the one already? Why am I trying so hard to have everything figured out right now? What's the rush?

If I do not have a partner at 21 or 22 that does not mean I will never find a partner, and that especially does not mean I am unlovable and will die alone. Again, what's the rush? Would I really want to get married at 22? No. Then slow down. Take your time Elizabeth, your life is not a race. I was desperate for connection, I felt that I was starved of it. Every person before him felt so meaningless, I had a mask with all of them the entire time. But with him it felt real, with him, I was myself completely. I have realised the people I have the most in common with, sometimes, are not good. We have experienced the same childhood, but we've taken two different paths out of it, and I'm afraid they chose the one without empathy and love. They chose to pretend that life is a game, and people are like dolls, if you tell yourself that you are the only real one, and everyone around you is fake, it becomes really easy to essentially; do whatever you please with them. People are no longer people, but items to use as you fancy. It"s like a child with a toy, they use it for as long as they want, make them do whatever, and once they get bored they throw them away and ache for a new one, a better one, one they know nothing about. The sense of newness is tempting, partially for the fascination of what it is, but the grandest part is (ourselves) being able to be new. I am a new specimen once again, and I can form myself to seem perfect to you, and awe you, I can perform for you. It's like hosting a ballet dance once a day for an entire month, but only allowing one person to watch you each night. You can tweak your performance one night, add something the other, take something away, you can keep "improving" until it turns more into you impressing yourself rather than the spectator. They don't really matter, it's you. It's like inside of you, you have the missing parents that you lacked in childhood. You are trying to impress yourself. And as you get better with these performances, you surprise yourself, you realise what you can get away with, how well you can pretend to be someone else, how easy it is for you to lie, how easy it is to make someone fall in love with you, how much you get off on the fact that the other person knows nothing about you really, how you are the director of this show. It is tempting, because it's a rush, a deep thrill. Pushing the limits of yourself, but remember, this is in a sick manner. Because in order to do this, be like this, you must think of everyone else as non-existent, as if they don't compare to you, you think you're better in some way. You do not recognise that they too have a story, a childhood, wounds of their own, dreams, ambitions... feelings. You forget that people feel, and that things have long lasting impacts.

I write about all of this so easily because it is for me. Because I can easily be that person, because I was that person. I'm not sure if it comes with the personality disorder or the awful childhood, maybe it is a mixture of both, or one is the result of the other. Who knows. What I do know is that everyday, I have to choose to not be like that. I have to choose to be good. I have to choose to recognise that people are humans, that they walk through life just like me, they are not just dolls to play with and throw away when we get bored, they get hurt, they cry, they remember things, they feel, just like me. I have to see that inside of myself, and see it in others. I choose empathy, and kindness, but most importantly respect. I don't want to hurt others anymore, it never feels good. Because at the root of it, it is just your self hate. Nothing more. I have to remember who I was before everything happened, I have to find that child inside of myself. I have had extreme lessons back to back, and part of me feels afraid to try again. I am left with scares and wounds, but I know, like all things, that they will soon heal, that wounds fade from blue to skin colour, and that scabs soon peel off and reveal healthier skin below. A healthier, more wiser being. I hope to be that. So I guess the pain is okay, I guess I should be grateful to the things that have hurt me, I've learned. I had to experience it, I had to experience all of it. Thank you for teaching me.

elizabeth sainz.

[bellsofblueficlets]

And Then Starting Again

Nothing, nothing...

The little science sans swallows, and looks back at the small pile of half shredded wrappers, takes a deep breath, adds the most recent failure to the pile behind him, and starts digging again. Fear was twisting at his stomach almost as much as hunger now, as he carefully tore open a damp takeout bag, looking inside. Wadded napkins, a cup lid, an empty fry container, and another wrapper.

He stares, sighs, and begins pulling this one loose too. It didn't look like it had anything in it, but he'd been at this for almost three hours now, and he was getting desperate. He needed food, any food, just something to fill the ache inside him...

...again, an empty wrapper.

The bitty looks around, morose. He needed food. Moreover, he needed magic food. Glamburgers weren't exactly his favorite food in the world, but they counted, and this dumpster had always had something before, if he looked hard enough.

Apparently? Not this time.

He looks up the side of the dumpster, and starts to climb the bit of makeshift rope he'd used to repel down in the first place, thinking. There was the cinnabunny bakery, almost a half a mile away. Also the nice cream bunny's cart, but there was no telling where and when he would turn up.

...there was the inn.

He pulls up the bit of string, hand over hand, unhooks it, and loops it back at his belt. Thinking.

The inn was an option. There wasn't often food there though, even if what he had managed to find was always pretty good. Still, that was a trek almost as far as the bakery, and in the opposite direction.

Maybe he should just wait here. He might get lucky.

...he was so tired of being hungry.

Getting down from the dumpster from the outside was easier, fortunately. A woody little bush had grown right up against it, and in the past couple weeks, he'd perfected both several routes up, and several routes down. He never used to be this good at climbing. He supposed that was what being a stray did to a bitty. Made them tougher, more resourceful-

-or just dead, he reflected tiredly. Probably usually just dead.

Safely back on the ground, he takes a few seconds to look around. No one. Still he stays beside the dumpster, within easy reach of hiding. It was almost night. He didn't want to still be out after dark- the street lamps cast terrifying shadows, making it impossible to tell what was a formless trick of light, and what might actively want to hurt him. He had to make a decision, or go to sleep on an empty stomach again.

Too far to the bakery, and too far to the inn, if it even had anything. MTT's Eatz was a bust.

That left one option. And he didn't like it.

He rubs the back of his neck, uneasy, and weighs mental discomfort against physical. He didn't want to go there. He didn't. It felt wrong in every possible way to him now, if only by reminding him how much he'd lost. And how much he'd changed.

But a bitty shop? Would have bitty food, somewhere. He was sure of it.

Setting his jaw, his sockets close, as he sighs silently. Ah well. If he had to, he had to. There was no point putting it off. He might even find a change of clothes or something. All he had to do was avoid the live traps he'd heard about...

Because he was not going to end up in a cage.

...Never again.

----

It was already dark by the time he made it to the alley behind the shop in question. He'd averted his gaze from all the pretty displays in the windows, a sourness in his throat that had nothing to do with hunger. He didn't want to see. He didn't want to remember.

His fingers clench, and unclench, semi consciously, as he looks down the narrow bit. Traps. He'd heard there were traps. His mind kept pulling up images of mouse traps, though he knew that wasn't what these were.

Don't trust the bolt holes. Don't go into the cans. Don't try hiding in any boxes. And never, ever trust free food tucked just out of sight.

His eyelights scanned the darkness, as well as he could. This was a very, very bad idea, and he shouldn't be attempting it, but the hunger now insistently clawing inside him was also very, very convincing.

He just. Had to keep an eye open for traps. He scanned the alleyway for anything that might be... Mostly he just saw shadows, and semi indistinct shapes. Of course.

He's about to turn away, and say fuck it, when something darts past him. He stumbles back, turning quickly to see what it was, ready to bolt-

A trio of bitties watch him from a bit further down the alley. One, larger than the others, with a glowing red eyelight, narrows it's socket at him, as though waiting for him to move. He? Does not. And after a span of several seconds, the other looks away with a small grunt.

This seems to be a command of some kind, because the other two dart forward, one giggling recklessly as it scales and bounds off several different objects, seeming to have little no problem traversing the darkness. Every now and then, he swears he sees the bitty running on all fours, a long tail trailing behind it...

He's staring, mesmerized by the easy movements of the tailed bitty, so it takes him a moment to realize that he hadn't actually seen where the other bitty had gone. A chill settles in his bones, as he looks quickly back to the red eye lighted bitty, and sees it watching him again-

...something grabs him by the back of the shirt, yanking, hard, and making him stumble. Before he can hope to regain his banance, and bolt, something slender and cold presses against his throat, and he freezes. No. No, no, no, no...!

There's a low snicker in his ear, velvet and cruelty. "Heya, little sansy," the metal whatever presses harder to his neck, and there's no mistaking the edge of a blade, biting into bone, "you look a little lost. You need us to help you find your way?"

"I think we can do that," the other bitty runs- scurries up- before standing, and throwing his hood back, grinning with what might be sharp teeth, and red/blue eyelights, "but it's gonna cost you."

"So tell, us, little sansy," purrs the first, so close that he can feel warm breath on his neck, "what do you have to offer, hmm?"

The science sans says nothing, his mind gone almost full blank in panic. He's gonna die- he's gonna die, or something else just as horrible, or worse, he just knows it.

The third bitty, the tallest- some dim and distant part of his mind not currently preoccupied with his impending horrible fate, boggles at the sheer size of him, not just tall, but wide, and solid. Dumbstruck, numb, he can only watch as the other strides closer, that single burning red eyelight staring down at him as he approaches.

His thoughts still scurrying for an answer, he finally places it as the other leans down, to stare at eyelight to eyelight. Bara. That's what he was. And judging by his eyelight, and the sizeable hole in his skull, a bara horror bitty at that.

...never mind dying. He's going to be eaten.

A low grunt, as the bara horror bitty reaches out, hooking a sharp claw under his chin. He lifts the science sans' head as he straightens again, baring his throat even more to whatever hidden blade lay tucked in the grasp of the bitty behind him.

"Here's your choices," when he finally speaks, it's with a surprisingly silky tone, "Either you get to play mouse trap, and disarm the toys those biggie bastards left in the alley, so we can eat? Or I left my dusts shave your bones, piece by piece, and you get to be our dinner."

He whimpers, low in his throat, something half squeaked emerging.

The bara horror tilts his head, releasing his chin, and tapping his brow with a sharp claw, a slow grin forming. "You broken in there, little sansy? Maybe we should just save ourselves the time then, and start carving you up now..."

He feels the blade start to bite into bone, harder, and manages a weakly rasped, "Can't- can't see it-"

Something seems to shift in the horror's expression, and he holds up a hand, stilling the dust before he can cut any deeper. Breathing hard, terrified, he just stares up at the other, waiting to die...

For a long moment, the other stares at him, scrutinizing him carefully. Then a low chuckle interrupts his trembling, and the horror bitty beckons the other dust over, mumbling quietly to him. They dust looks interested, looks at him, and grins, before bounding off again. He seems to just about go straight up the wall, and vanish...

He finds himself holding his breath, tears beading in his sockets. The world feels like it could go dark any second...

Again, the tap against his brow, harder this time, hard enough to hurt, and he lifts his gaze to the bara bitty giving him a cold look. "Don't leave now," he cautions, that silky voice dipping low, "you pass out on us, you won't be waking up. Got it?"

He nods, weakly. Determined to stay conscious, somehow.

A minute passes. Then another. Then another...

And the long tailed bitty reappears, giggling as he scurries back towards them, and grinning very widely, as he seems to be holding something half hidden beneath oversized sleeves. How does he even go on all fours like that without tripping...?

Whatever it is, the bara horror takes it, turns to look back at him again, and then reaches straight for his face, holding whatever it is. He yelps, trying to pull free-

A set of glasses are pressed in front if his eyes, and he stops short, confused.

Surprisingly gentle claws, given his behavior until now, fasten the glasses in place with small bits of sticky, and he can see the horror clearly now, looking nothing so much as amused. "Thought we had us some little sansy," he grins, still looming over the much smaller bitty, "but naw. We got us a science sansy here, don't we? Go on, let 'em go Weasel. He's gonna help us now- ain't you science sansy?"

Science? Sans? Well, yes, but- That was important? He'd heard those words before, but they didn't hold much meaning to him. "I- yes?" Just looking visibly confused as he's released.

He pauses though, looking around... everything standing out in stark relief, in a way it hadn't since the bitty shop. He touches the glasses on his face, and looks at the dust who'd scurried off before- the other is wearing a rat skin, and at first he assumes he'd mistaken what he'd seen for the rat tail draped along the pavement. Then though the tip of it twitches, as the dust just stands there, looking amused.

"What's wrong? Never seen a rat before?" He giggles, pulling his hood up again- this, also clearly having once belonged to a rat. He grins, sharp teeth, and glowing eyes, menacing beneath the shadow of it. Very, very sharp teeth, he can see now. This wasn't a fell bitty, he'd apparently just sharpened his teeth to very fine points.

The other dust strides out from behind him, a lanky looking bitty, and gives him a slow smile. Not a papyrus though, he realizes, though that's his first impression. Just a sort of... stretched out dust sans. This one wears a pelt too, though it looks more like a ferret's than a weasel's. Still not something to mess with.

The lanky dust flips a slender sliver of metal between his fingers, watching him. A lazy, deadly look, all in one. "So what are you waiting for?" He purrs, that low, deadly tone leaving him chilled clear to the marrow. "You gonna help us, or what? Be a shame to have to slice such a cute little thing to pieces..."

A continued blank stare, still overwhelmed, terrified, and increasingly confused.

He jumps at a sharp snort, spinning to see the horror bitty again. Still watching in amusement. He gestures towards the alley, and tilts his head again, as though waiting.

Understanding finally dawns, and the little science sans nods nervously, looking that way... then nodding again. Sure. He could do this. He could totally do this. He'd always been pretty good at puzzles. "O- okay," he agrees, feeling sick to his stomach. "I- I can do that."

He can do that...

He. Can.

...he starts down the alleyway. He. He can...

----

Exhausted beyond reason as the sun slowly begins peeking over the horizon, the little science sans leans against the cold brick wall, eyes closed as he tries to ignore the throbbing in his arm. It had taken a few hours, and every ounce of mental power he'd been able to summon, but every last trap had been located and disabled.

Afterwards, he'd been loaded up with all the food and goods they'd been able to find, and marched nearly two miles out, far beyond anywhere he'd explored before now, before finaply being allowed to drop what he'd been given in the den of the little pack.

It wasn't that the others hadn't carried too, they had, but his arm had had to twist up pretty good to reach one of the latches, and now he was paying the price of the combined efforts. And he still hadn't eaten. He swore he was going to dust just from-

Something is shoved in his arms, and he yelps, looking up, soul pounding, fully expecting to die now. He'd done it, he'd done what they wanted, and-

The bara, Velvet he'd heard one of the others call him, looks amused as he slowly registers the packet of bitty treats in his arm. His sockets widening, he looks from it to the other, only to receive a slow nod of approval, before the horror turns away.

With shaky hands, he tears open the paper, fishing out one of the treats. He stares at it, remembering these things from the bitty shop. He'd never gotten any, but some of the others had. He'd always wondered what they tasted like. It squishes in his hand, soft and pliable, as he bites into it.

...and stops in disbelief, staring at what's left of the treat. It tastes like sweetness, and cream, and something curiously tingly, that makes him think of sparkles hanging in the air. It's, the best thing he's ever eaten, easily. And not because he's half starved, either, though that definitely makes it taste all the sweeter.

The rest is shoved in his mouth without must ado, and he grabs another, another- soon half the package is gone, and for the first time in weeks, his stomach is blissfully, happily full. No weird gross textures, no greasy flavor, no grit or dirt or filth tainting his food-

He holds it in his lap, wondering if he can manage one more, only to have his thoughts interrupted by a bundle of cloth being dropped across what's left of his food. He blinks, and looks up. Weasel smirks, shrugs at his incredulous expression, and saunters away.

Picking them up slowly, he examines them. Clean, close to his size, new... and this, looked like a coat. Pretty and white, with big pockets. He stands slowly, looking at it, and finding it hangs almost to the floor.

He knew this. He'd seen it before. Hanging in the sans bitty section of the shop. They'd called it a lab coat.

The bitty smiles slowly as he looks it over, deciding he likes this. He's not exactly sure why, it's just... nice. It really is.

"Every science sansy needs his own lab coat," Velvet rumbles, looking amused from across the way. "You did pretty good tonight. You earned a couple nice things to take with you, when you go."

He hesitates, touching his glasses. "These, too?"

A snort. "I look like I need them, science sansy? Yeah, they're yours."

Again he starts to smile, only to have it die as the horror approaches him, all traces of friendliness vanishing from his expression. "Now take yer pretty new clothes, yer nice glasses, and what's left of yer bag of bitty treats," the mood in the lair immediately shifts, both dusts looking at him again, eyelights bright and amused, "and get the fuck out. Before we decide to up and keep you."

Velvet smiles, nothing warm there now. "And I promise you, science sansy. You don't want us to up and keep you. Our uh, toys? They never have a habit of lasting very long."

"Consider us letting you leave a thank you, fer a job well done. And hope we never lay eyelights on you again. Because I promise you? We won't be as generous a second time."

Swallowing heavily, he nods, offering no argument, just turning and darting for the door. His armful of rewards are well in hand, the laughter of the dangerous bitties floating mockingly behind him.

It's several minutes before he's forced to stop, coming to an open road, a blinking light swinging slowly in the intersection, not a car in sight either way.

Looking around, his soul sinks as he realizes that he has no idea where he is, much less how to get back to the makeshift nest he'd made. And even if he did, he's so, so exhausted...

Going back is out, he realizes. And while he didn't really have anything that he really needed, he'd been lucky to find an unclaimed spot out of the wind and rain, a place to hide in where biggies wouldn't spot him, and dogs couldn't reach.

...he doesn't know where to go. His armful of 'nice things,' his wonderful new glasses, and a full stomach, but no place to go. He's startling to tremble, looking back and forth frown the length of the empty road. Touching his glasses with one hand, as though reassuring himself they're still there, he picks a direction, and starts walking. All the while keeping an eye out for places to hide, if he finds sudden need.

He needs to find a new nest, and soon. He just needs a place to sleep. His food, if he stretches out what remains, might last another day. Bitterly, he already thinks back to how many he'd eaten a short time before, knowing he'd regret that once the rest were gone.

Nothing to do for it now, though. He just, had to keep going, there was no turning back now.

...but then, there never had been, had there?

----

He stared at the blank, empty stretch of dead grass, with its desperate attempt at a flowerbed, and stark iron benches. A state of some nameless biggie sat on horseback at its center, sword raised- or at least if he had a name, the little science sans didn't know it.

Either way? This was the park. Apparently.

He didn't know why he'd come here anyway. It wasn't like he could sleep under a bush, or in a tree, not without ending up a meal. Maybe he'd- maybe he'd been hoping-

No. He just, didn't know.

Standing before the statue, he's able to walk right up to it, to set his hand against it's base, and gaze up at the towering thing. Bigger than any biggie. He wondered if there were people anywhere that big. Maybe even as big to a biggie, as they were to him. Maybe-

Stupid questions.

He sighs, slumping against the statue's base, considering the nearly empty treat bag, woefully. Almost gone. He gives it a small shake... maybe two left? He'd been trying to ignore the building pangs of hunger for hours now, but there wasn't much point. He'd been stumbling around for almost two days now, with no other sign of food. No wonder the bitty pack had traveled so far...

More than once, he'd half hoped to run into them again. Maybe they'd been joking? They hadn't been...terrible, really. They hadn't hurt him, and had given him things. Their nest had been nice, safe and hidden- there was room fir him, he was sure of it. And, he could be useful! He-

"Our uh, toys? They never have a habit of lasting very long."

He'd. Been kidding. He had to be... right? Maybe- maybe it was worth it, to go back and ask. Maybe... maybe it was worth it... to just have a nest, and company.

...He was so, so tired of being alone.

The little science sans bitty sinks to the ground, his vision starting to blur again. Hugging the neatly empty treat packet to his chest, he sniffles, nearly knocking the glasses from his face as he tries rubbing away the tears that threatened to fall.

What had he been hoping to find here? Something. Someone. Just...

Maybe someone who wanted a small science sans bitty. In glasses, and a labcoat. Someone who wanted him. Maybe he was tired of being a stray.

With so long since he'd let himself eat, and so much longer since he had the chance to sleep, being in this strange place, still alone... It was too much. Thick blue tears start rolling down his cheeks as he buries his face against the treat bag,trying not to cry. The other strays didn't want him around. No one had ever wanted him. Not biggie, not bitty- he hated it, he hated it, he didn't want to be alo-

...The treat bag in his hand, rustles.

Yanking away with a squeak of alarm, the bitty half rolls away before scrambling to his feet, turning to run, what pitiful claim he still had in this world clutched tight to his chest-

A huff, and a muttered, "Fine, keep 'em. Wasn't hungry anyway."

-and his mind goes full stop, so hard that he almost falls over. Instead he turns, hesitantly, looking back at the voice.

It's not clear at first whether he's looking at a shorter, thicker papyrus bitty, or just a somewhat taller sans bitty. And after a few more seconds of looking, it's still not clear.

His expression was mildly annoyed, mildly interested, and not much else, but his gaze was sharp and watchful. Cyan eyelights, a small crack on his left cheekbone, clawed fingertips, and a swishing tail that looked like it belonged on a lion... either that, or a gerbil.

The longer he stares though, the more that mildly irritated look shifts to something more interested, thoughtful... and slowly, amused. "Huh. You're not a month outta your cage, are you house pet?" The taller bitty stalks towards him, there's no other way to describe it, he leans into his stride, digitigrade feet, tail acting as balance, and moves with the grace of a hunter, a predator- and one with the smug smile of a bitty who knows full well how visible that is. Almost strange, with that stride, seeing the lack of sharp teeth...

Why he doesn't think to run, he won't be able to recall, later. Something in those movements takes his breath away, something in those watchful eyes, alert and curious, and that smile...

He stops short before the science sans, a full half again his height, his smile slowly becoming a smirk as the other still doesn't look away, much less run.

"See something you like, house pet?" He hums, eyelights dancing. He leans in, bending closer until he's maybe a hands breadth away from the smaller bitty's face. "Funny... me too."

The smaller bitty swears he can feel the heat as the blue creeps over his face. "Uh, I- Um-"

Straightening again, the other bitty reaches out with a low chuckle of amusement, brushing his knuckles against the science sans' cheek bone. Despite almost pulling away... he doesn't, and when he doesn't, he swears he sees an instant of satisfaction in the other bitty's expression.

"Oh, I'm gonna keep you..." he mumbles under his breath- but stops as the science sans' eyelights shrink, and he starts trembling, quickly backing away. "Ah..." a slight tilt of his head, tail slowly winding like a snake behind him. "I get it."

There's a moment of tense silence, as the smaller bitty stops backing away, and he just watches...

Then, before the science sans can process what's happening, the taller bitty lunges, clawed hands reaching. He yelps, dropping the packet as he lifts his arms to protect his face-

And. Nothing happens. A beat, two, and he lowers his arms, slowly.

...To see the other discarding the now empty bag, licking his fingers, his eyelights dancing in amusement as the look of slow realization, and utter devastation, on the science sans' face. That. That had been the very last of his food...

As the tears begin to swell in his sockets again, he doesn't see as the other's look shifts back to annoyance again at the sight of him starting to cry. He does hear the low huff as he shifts his glasses, trying quickly to wipe the droplets of magic away, and he whimpers... pitifully, something in his mind mocks him...

"Tsk," He can almost hear the other roll his eyelights. "You're really gonna start crying just because I snagged the last of your treats..." A sigh, "Ffffine. C'mon, house pet. Let's go get you some food."

...What? He blinks, looking up again. Again, the other looks amused. "What? Can't leave a cute little house pet out here all alone, can I? C'mon, I'll take you back to my nest. I got some leftovers I can give you."

He knows he shouldn't go. He knows that. But whether it's because he's confused, or tired, or hungry, or just really, really lonely? He nods, hesitant, but definitely a yes, before remembering his manners. "Yes, please. And, thank you."

The other pauses, then smiles slowly, watching him a bit more intently. "Sure thing... After all, it'd be a waste of such a pretty face, just leaving you all alone to dust out here..."

Again the science sans feels the blush creep over his face, and again the other notices, and his smile grows.

They walk off together, him in the lead, long, easy strides, the science sans having to have run to keep up. He didn't mind though, he didn't want to slow the other down, or give him reason to leave him behind.

After all, if he kept up and this other bitty liked him, and everything went really well? Maybe he wouldn't have to be alone anymore!

He didn't-

He didn't want to be alone anymore...

----

[ppersonna]

swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary-  after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia​ @untaemedqueen​ for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks​ and @hongism​ for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.  

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. 

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily. 

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.  

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it. 

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water. 

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk. 

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.” 

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo. 

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?” 

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above. 

“You call Jimin a prince?” 

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband. 

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.” 

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.” 

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own. 

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.” 

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.” 

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid. 

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom. 

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed. 

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it. 

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can. 

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone. 

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway. 

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk. 

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read. 

He just matched with YOU. 

His best friend. 

His secret, lifelong crush. 

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it. 

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen. 

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other. 

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message. 

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone. 

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend. 

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone. 

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion. 

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff. 

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband. 

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line. 

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend. 

“It’s nothing!” 

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.” 

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off. 

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams. 

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback. 

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly. 

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures. 

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen. 

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more. 

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is. 

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork. 

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you. 

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause. 

“What’s up?” He asks curiously. 

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner. 

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours. 

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own. 

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to. 

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator. 

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze. 

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”  

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face. 

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light 

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”  

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others. 

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park. 

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too. 

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth. 

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm. 

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing. 

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it. 

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face  down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck. 

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes. 

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently. 

“And I promise to never run away from you again.” 

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself. 

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again. 

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with. 

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing. 

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss. 

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours. 

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly. 

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed. 

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?” 

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement. 

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.” 

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited. 

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle  his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs. 

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathes. 

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” 

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more. 

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.” 

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable. 

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan. 

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water. 

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently. 

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue. 

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue. 

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets. 

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully. 

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.” 

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body). 

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are. 

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down. 

“Still dreaming?” 

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire. 

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes. 

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart. 

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout. 

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?” 

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug. 

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing. 

“I plan to find out everything.” 

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.” 

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss. 

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you. 

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.” 

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body. 

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.  

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands. 

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.” 

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation. 

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.” 

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off. 

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air. 

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt. 

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation. 

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion. 

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship. 

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister. 

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

tag list - @giadalin @nohayarcoirissintormenta @pjmislovely @xhazmania @marcoazam2 @eggbutnotyolk @feel-the-sunset @unicornbabylover @aretha170 @jeonmisha @hordanhearsawhooo 

© ppersonna - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[tteokdoroki]

assistance please! | e.kirishima.

♡ pairing: eijirou kirishima x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 6.6K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

♡ genre: workplace!au, internship!au, fluff + smut.

♡ summary: eijirou kirishima loved being an intern, he had great co-workers, had a shot at his dream job, his boss had taken quite liking to him and of course, being the favourite intern had many, many perks.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut,  ( kirishima is in his twenties ), power dynamics, sub top!kirishima + power bottom!reader,   heavy!praise kink, heavy!miss + mommy kink, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it, kids ), oral ( female receiving ), squirting, tummy bulges, cumplay, creampie.

♡ author’s note(s): hihi everyone!! today i present to you my contribution to the bnharem on the job collab! i had a lot of fun playing with different dyanimics in this fic, i hope you enjoy it nonetheless!! make sure you chek out the other works from the other amazing creators!! <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

“oi! ‘shima! you’re needed in the boss’ office right away, she’s got important business for ya!, wants t’have a word. now.”

eijirou ducks his head politely in a sign of gratitude, thanking his co-worker and superior, keigo— for the heads up. keigo, or better known as hawks around the office ( for his fast speeds in completing work and luring lonely interns into his bed ), was a nice guy— second to the lady in charge and way too chatty. he was a bit of an air head, got the job done when it needed to be but that’s what kirishima was for, the replacement while keigo took his vacation time in the middle of the year like an idiot.

he wasn’t too sure why you kept the blonde around, he supposed it was because he was pretty but eijirou wouldn’t dare question you— he needed this internship if he was going to make it big in the sports news reporting scene. he’d been majoring in sports and healthcare at college, two years away from graduating when the opportunity to work for yn ln, one of the biggest sports journalists in japan had landed right in his lap. of course he was going to take it, of course he was going to do everything he could not to fuck it up.

in the cubicles beside him, the other interns try to muffle their giggles and titters of curious laughter as the red head gathers himself for the meeting.

“oooo, i wonder what you did this time,” kaminari teases from the right, leaning over his side of the cubicle to fiddle with the odd bits on kirishima’s desk. denki kaminari was another person kirishima wondered how the hell he got into the programme, but then again he was pretty to look at and brought a lighter air to boring office days.

“nothing! i’m innocent!” eijirou defends, hands releasing his files to fly up in defence.

the other interns, going by the names of mina ashido, kyouka jirou and hanta sero snicker amongst themselves at the interaction.

“don’t believe it, s’obviously more than nothin’ if you’re always getting called down’ta the boss lady’s office.” bakugou, another intern, grunts out with his nose deep buried in files for upcoming reports. he was a little too rough for the journalism lifestyle but got the job done. his attitude wasn’t for everyone. “they’re probably fuckin’.”

mina giggles and kirishima steps out into the paths between desks. “don’t be such a sourpuss ‘suki, just ‘cause you’re not her favourite.”

a lose ‘shut up’ is huffed, before katsuki turns to face his taller, buffer companion. “just don’t be late, bunch of us are goin’ for lunch later.” he adds and turns back to his paperwork.

“affirmative, catch ya later!”

the group waves the red head off as he heads to the elevator directing him to the main floor— this is where all the higher ups worked. the journey wasn’t unfamiliar to the intern, he wasn’t like the others and had the steps to your office memorised by heart. sometimes it was like walking home, to his comfort and sanctuary away from the stressors of work and the outside world— he knew that was bad, but you were so kind, such a sweet and understanding boss he couldn’t help but develop some level of comfort towards you.

to most, it seemed like eijirou kirishima was just unbelievably close to his boss, that you’d taken him under your wing.

he however, knew what you had, meant more.

a fluttering warmth spreads across the intern’s chest as he approaches the door to your main office and he knocks. behind it lay mountains of secrets upon secrets, things that kirishima knows about you that no one else does. the walls have hidden words, written across them in fonts of passion and admiration and it’s all that he can think about. you’re all that he can think about, and it’s still wrong. there’s a shuffling deep in the room and some flitters of paper here and there before your soft, velveteen voice breaks through the barrier between you. the one thing keeping you apart.

“come in,” you call smoothly and kirishima follows your orders swiftly, if not eagerly, entering the four walls of your office. ruby eyes dart across the room to locate your position and his heart skips a beat when he finds you, body leaning over your dark oak desk, papers scattered across it while you frantically sift through numbers and stocks and nonsense way above the level of a journalism intern. but even amongst the chaos, you’re beautiful— eyes sparkling with productivity, lined in little flecks across the colour of your orbs. the way you dress never fails to steal away eijirou’s breath— a tight fitting leather skirt that hugs your mature curves and a white blouse with the bottoms popped open— just enough for him to get a peek at your cleavage.

the poor intern has to hold himself back from blurring the lines of work and pleasure to shove himself deep into your chest, suck and lick at your plush breasts until he was high off the taste of your skin. but he wouldn’t do that, yet. not without your permission. “oh eiji baby, there you are!” you coo to the red head, bright smile stretching across blood diamond painted lips. you cross the room in three short strides, tall black heels clacking against the smooth white marble until you’re standing in front of and looking up at kirishima. “was starting to think keigo had ditzed like a pretty boy and had forgotten to send you my way, darling.”

eijirou’s cheeks flame at the smoothness in your syrupy voice, like sweet honey to his hears, the pet name striking a familiar heat deep within him. you always had a way with your words— enticing, almost like a siren calling out to him despite the taboo aura that surrounded what you had. whatever it was— he just knew it was more than your typical boss-intern relationship.

“even if he had, ‘m more than happy to be of service to you ma’am,” he responds almost a little too quickly, large hand rubbing the back of his neck and tugging at his baby hairs to ground himself.

you cock your head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “always such a helpful, good boy eijirou,” you hum, lips pulling into a devilish red smile and the praise causing a new spark of lustful electricity to crackle through the air. “i could use a little assistance, please, i have this awful meeting with the board today, spent all night preparing and couldn’t go home, i could use some stress relief,”

kirishima’s gaze becomes hooded as he looks down at you, a familiar and bright desire burning in the pits of his stomach. “oh yeah? sucks that the paperwork kept you up all night ma’am…” he trails off, choosing to let his fingers dance up and down your sides— snaking an arm around your waist to pull you into him. you couldn’t or you wouldn’t go home. he’s not sure if he cares about the answer right now— not when you tremble in his grip, itching for something, anything from him. “how long do you reckon we have ms. ln?”

“ten to fifteen minutes sweetheart, give or take,”

you grin widens, taking an impossibly closer step to your intern— pressing the swell of your breasts against his hard chest. he can feel your nipples pebbling through your blouse, almost visible behind the white fabric and god the way you look up at him— he can no longer wait, he needs you. right here and right now.

“will you be needing my assistance throughout, ma’am?” kirishima asks, voice dropping a few octaves until it falls into a low growl.

“i expect it. you are my intern after all.”

the words laced with deep huskiness, the proximity of your bodies and the rising heat in the room is what leads you both to tumble into the next series of events. before he can’t register it, your mouths are slotted together in a fast paced and sloppy kiss, kirishima’s body manoeuvres you around the office, marking out a familiar pathway to your desk—his tongue remains sliding over yours in rapid movements as he commits your taste to memory, refreshing those from the last time he had you like this. yet every time you kiss and his tongue glides over yours, you taste sweeter than before; like peaches and morning coffee— you feel softer in his grip, every dip and curve to your body like it was built for him.

eijirou can't stop thinking of that last time, tucked away in your office after dark when your dainty hands pawed desperately at his hips to bring him closer or scratched at his back from sheer pleasure— kirishima wants to see you like that against, using his own hands to tear through your shirt and send buttons flying across the room. something in him just wants to do good for you, have you ache for him and earn himself some of your sweet praise. even as you step and stumble towards your work desk, the red-head lets his lips break away from yours, connected by a string of your own saliva before he drops to your neck, lapping tracks over your skin with the temptation to bite down and paint it shades of deep purple and blue.

but there are rules that you both have in place; ways to keep what you have a secret and hidden away from the public eye so that you don’t lose all that you’ve worked for and so kirishima can keep being your precious little intern.

“jump for me, please ma’am,” he whispers heavily into the junction between your neck and your shoulders, breath laboured and warm against your skin that begins to shine with light perspiration. mindlessly, you follow his orders, jumping up while your fingers curl into the mass of red on kirishima’s head and ankles lock around his waist—his hands meet the backs of your doughy thighs, squeezing the flesh between calloused digits while you toe off your heels.

“eiji, you’re so good,” you manage between feather light breaths as they clatter to the floor as the pair of you somehow make your way to the desk chair, pushing and tearing the clothes from one another’s bodies— including your crisp shirt. now seated and left in nothing but your bra, you tug harshly at your intern’s locks and bring his mouth down to yours, allowing them to move together in a dirty, messy kiss. there’s barely any time for you both to mess around, for him to tease you until your limit and you’re crying out for any type of touch from him, so eijirou quickly

flips down your bra, exposing your chest to cool, air conditioned air—not even bothering to unclip the material as his fingers descend on your nipple, pulling and twisting them until your back arches from the stimulation. “hurry, please eijirou,”

obedient as ever, your favourite boy drops to his knees in front of the chair you stay slumped in and with his height, he still manages to tower over you, practically at eye level with hunger framing the ruby of his own. large hands knead at your plush thighs, hiking your skirt up and up to give you room to spread your thighs, cunt growing sticky from anticipation— all from a few measly touches in familiar places. but this is kirishima, and he knows how your body works from countless hours spent after the office closes up— using one another to blow off extra steam. he knows just what makes you tick and moan his name.

logically, eijirou knows that your meeting could start at any minute and even though you’re both in a stickler for time, he still wants to get a taste at your skin before devouring your most intimate parts. he’ll make time to explore every part of you, to assist you in your stress relief. “‘m sorry miss, yn,” he whines needily, watching your chest rise and fall with want, feeling your body heat up and twitch from the ghost of his fingertips across your blemished skin. “gotta have a taste of you before the real deal, hope’ya don’t mind…”

latching onto the left mound of flesh at your exposed chest, kirishima sinks the point of his teeth into the area around your nipple— just enough to graze your skin and pull a sweet mewl from your mouth. you’re both lucky for the soundproof walls, your head thrown back in a lewd moan he lets his pink tongue roll over your bud in vicious circles. heavy, fat globs of saliva pool over the pink muscle, pouring down kirishima’s chin and painting your skin with a slick shine. “h-how...how could i mind angel, not when you treat me s’good,” you heave, vision fading in and out due to the overwhelming amount of pleasure flashing through your body in waves of hotness. “always doin’ so well for me eiji, aren’t you such a good boy?”

“yes ma’am,” the intern confirms with a erogenous slur, pacified and content on his knees for you— sucking, licking and biting at your chest to his heart’s content. “‘m your good boy,” he corrects you, however. eijirou feels most happy when grazing his tongue over the swell of your breasts, watching your face carefully for any twitches of delirium, it lets him know how hot aroused he makes you feel— that knowledge shoots straight to his cock, rock hard in his slacks while the redhead watches his boss writhe in her seat all for his eyes only.

such a dazzling view, and it’s all for fucking him.

your perfectly manicured nails run through red hair, scratching deliciously at his scalp until you’re forcing his head back and pulling kirishima off of your breast with a pop. “as much as i love seeing a pretty boy suck on my tits like a baby, we’re pressed for time angel, gonna need you to speed it up a little,” despite the softness to your face and the sudden evenness to the tone of your voice, the words that you speak to eijirou are vulgar, nasty, and turn him on to his wits end. “want you to eat me out eiji, can you do that for me?”

shaking his head, yes, beautiful claret eyes shining with acquiescence, kirishima wipes the spit from his chin with the back of his hand— like the tainted, dirty intern he is. you sigh down at him salaciously, ready to tear his innocence apart all over again. eijirou was always so willing to please, both in his work and behind closed doors— you would be a fool to not take advantage of that. with brute force, your intern forces your legs apart, eyes rolling back in his skull from the scent of your sex, dripping with your juices right through your underwear and stockings. overexcited, he rips through the flimsy material at your cunt, exposing your panties for him to see.

“you’re so...so wet ms.ln,” kirishima comments observantly, not even bothering to pull your stockings the rest of the way down your legs, instead opting to pull on the whole until it’s wide enough for his mouth to fit. “smell s’good, bet you taste even better,” there’s a patch on the crotch of your panties, darker than the rest of the material from where you leak and without a second thought, the red head instantly surges forward to lick a stripe over it, letting out a choked gripe as the taste of your cream from over the fabric invades his tongue.

you let out a shrill cry, hips jumping up at the first brush of his tongue against your untouched, clothed pussy. you wriggle even as kirishima holds you down, needing the heat of his mouth against you before your meeting starts. but he’s so good, so well trained, reaching up to your hips to yank your panties down in one fluid motion. leaning forward, kirishima savagely buries his face between your doughy thighs, hiking them over his shoulders from beneath the desk. his nose bumps against your clit, swollen from the lack of touch as he greedily inhales your scent once more— without warning, the intern kicks a stripe up the length of your pussy, sucking your juices into his mouth and smiling against your heat.

“d-don’t tease baby, be good for me,” you remind kirishima, your body trembles with anticipation, craving an orgasm to expel the stress of your work days out. the boy between your legs only hums, the sound running straight though cunt and vibrating against it, causing you to gush and spill your arousal out onto the leather seat beneath your cheeks. eijirou feasts on the slick that seeps from your fluttering hole, gliding his tongue up and down your sex, allowing the occasional pressure from his nose to stimulate your bundle of nerves.

the pads of his thighs burn marks into your legs, using them as leverage to pull your heated core further into his mouth, “can’t help it ma’am, y’got such a pretty pussy...s’only right that i worship you…” eijirou breaths right against your puffy folds, eyes trained on the way your hole clenches around nothing. a primal urge flares in his chest, a desire— no, a need— to see you filled with something, any part of him that can make you see stars and fuck you dumb. “‘m sorry, ‘m sorry you jus look s’fucking pretty miss…”

attaching his lips to your clit, the redhead pushes the spit gathered on his tongue right over your sloppy sit, hazy ruby stare watching as his saliva mixes with your juices and slides over your empty hole. he follows the oozing trail with his tongue, lapping it up and spewing it back into your sex until the pink muscle slips past your entrance— slipping inside of you with no prior warnings. your knuckles that grasp the arms of the chair as you’re spoiled between your legs by your top intern, his hands snaking their way around the tops of your thighs to spread your sticky pussy lips apart in order to bring more of you to the cool air of the office.

“you like this don’cha? dirty little boy,” you tease the poor boy, watching as his cheeks flame with embarrassment. “being a naughty little intern between your boss’ thighs all to keep on pleasing  her, keep your position at her company, huh? fuck eiji, you just love miss riding your naughty tongue—ohmygod—“

the way you sound, voice smooth like chocolate over the obscene slurping that fills the thats air heavy with the scent of sex and, makes eijirou’s cock jump up, precum oozing from his tip as he begins to rut against the hard floor beneath your desk. he makes an attempt to respond, but your thighs lock his head in place and his words come out muffled against your core. “mph, luh it, you’re s’sexy, please ma’am—“ he mumbles sordidly against you, practically humping the ground at your feet as you pick on him.

for a brief moment, kirishima pulls away to watch you roll your hips into nothing, hot tears beginning to brew into our hooded eyes from the satisfaction he brings you with every flick and flit of his tongue against where you need him most. written in your eyes is the command to keep going, your hands twistingly sharply in red roots to bring the intern back to your sluice, spasming cunt. so he does as he’s told, shoving his tongue deep inside your ribbed, iron hot walls and dragging tip along them to collect and taste strings of your viscous juices.

biting your lip, you do your best to hold back a voracious howl, bucking your hips feverishly into your intern’s face and staining his cheeks with everything that you have— he thrusts his tongue into you to the pace of your own hips, moaning against your slippery slit until your eyes are rolling. “gonna cum from this eiji, from you eatin’ me out like this...jus need a little more— need your fingers pretty boy,” you can feel the twist of the knot in your lower tummy starting to unravel, signifying your oncoming high, and the room starts to spin while kirishima eats you out with new vigour.

“yeah? miss? you’re gonna cum for me?” the intern practically whines and pulls his tongue from your hear, almost crying as his hips thump against the floor desperate for friction. “wanna see you come undone s’bad, please cum for me, please, please—“ eijirou chants, replacing his tongue with two of his thick digits, watching as your slick cunt stretches around them accommodatingly. he jackhammers them inside of you, grunting lowly underneath the slaps of his palm against the meat of your ass, as he returns to your clit to suckle on it hungrily. his fingers curl instantly in search for the spongy spot inside of you— bearing down hard against it once it’s located.

“oh—hah, right there baby— right fuckin’ there—!” you squeal, only egging him on as white starts to cloud your vision, everything sounds so nasty and wet, while eijirou stimulates both of your pleasure spots. it becomes hard to breath, legs wobbling around his broad shoulders, but your intern doesn’t let up, determined to bring you to cloud nine.

“that’s it ma’am, right there—you’re almost there, can feel you clenching around my fingers...please cum, fuck i want your cum, wanna taste you so bad, cum. cum. cum!” and that’s all it takes, eijirou’s pleading voice between your thick thighs to make the coil inside you snap and for your orgasm to wash over you. you convulse in your chair, nectar gushing freely from your raw and overstimulated cunt, spewing all over the redheads face as he continued to lap at your clit to ride out your high.

but he doesn’t stop there, scissoring his fingers deep within your velvet walls as you continue to cum, making you shake your head and wail from the high levels of ecstasy.

“please eiji—n’more, can’t, no—“

“you can miss, i know you can—fuck you look so pretty when you’re about to squirt for me, please…”

as quickly as your first high ended, another one comes crashing over you in harsh waves— rocking your world as clear liquid floods from your pussy— the sheer force of you squirting, pushing kirishima’s fingers out from your tight, sappy hole. your release hits the floor with a crude slap, both of you moaning loudly almost for the whole world to hear. he doesn’t stop sucking, clearing up your pretty cunt even as you fade in and out of consciousness from pleasure— he stays lapping at you with burning, languid strokes of his tongue between your folds even as you weakly attempt to answer the phone now ringing from your desk.

clearing your throat, you muster up the strength to sound professional over the line before picking up the phone and bringing it towards your ear. “good afternoon, this is yn ln of shinku sports reports, bringing you the latest sporting news, how may i help you?”

‘this is the board, we need to discuss this month's stocks and reports.’

from the corner of your eye, you can see kirishima rise from his place underneath your desk— standing tall over you once more while you converse with the directors on the other end of the phone. as quietly as he can, the redhead tears through the buttons on his shirt in a similar way to you, prior to you fucking and unbuckles his slacks. he pulls down his boxers and pants in one go, revealing his thick, hard girth that stands tall and slaps against his stomach— tip an angry shade of red as precum smears across his lower belly.

you nod into the phone, forgetting that the board can’t see you as kirishima lifts you from the chair and lays you on your back across the desk littered with unread papers. “ah yes, i’ve been expecting a call from you…” you whisper so quietly instead, not caring if they’ve missed what you said. you’re hardly paying attention, choosing to wrap a fist around eijirou’s cock, slickly pumping him to prepare him to take you— he parts your thighs, eyes closing and body shuddering above you while you continue to converse with the board.

spreading the droplets of precum across his slit and iron hot tip, kirishima takes his cock from your grasp— heavily slapping it against your sensitive and swollen clit to see you jolt up the desk. “gonna fuck you so good miss, jus’ be good ‘n stay quiet for me okay?” he says, a whimper catching in the tail end of his words. you nod to him, rushed and way too eager, laying your head back on the hard wood your swimming gaze settles on kirishima as he taps the head of his cock against your hole, teasingly pushing it just past your entrance before withdrawing again.

‘ms. ln, are you still there? we really are pressed for time so we would love to start by discussing interviews for the next issue—‘

you forget that you’re still connected on the line, settling for wriggling impatiently underneath your intern, who’s caramel tinted skin glistens with sweat and his cheeks begin to flush with unadulterated desire— all from watching the way your puffy folds lube up his shaft with every push through them. you can see him losing his resolve, just as sensitive as you since he’s been holding back an orgasm and without the hint of a warning, eijirou’s hips jump forward and drive his cock into the deepest parts of your sex— brushing against your cervix. you gasp out in surprise, finally losing focus and barely manage a more comprehensive response to the board you have waiting on the line. “y-yes!— yes, yes, i’m still here… you may proceed with the meeting.”

he’s big, bigger than anyone you’ve ever had— and you’d seen a lot being a woman of your caliber this high up in the industry...but no one could compare to the way your sweet, doe eyed gentlemanly little intern filled you up, fat cock stretching your walls even with the shallow thrusts into your cunt he gives you to adjust. the weight of his girth sits heavily inside you, twitching as kirishima slides into you easily due to the stickiness lining your gummy walls, breath shaky and uneven as he holds out for you during this time. you can tell the poor boy isn’t going to last long, fingers sinking into your thighs with a harsh grip while he tries to hold himself back.

such a good boy, always waiting for your every command.

‘so we’d like to talk about the main feature for next month’s issue, do you have anyone in mind?’

the monotone voice of the board member is drowned about by kirishima’s shaky breaths above you, his pleading puppy dog eyes while he stills himself inside your spasming, puckered hole— he waits for permission, following orders like a trained pet even though he can hardly stand it, overwhelmed by the flutter of your sex around him and heat from your body despite thrown over the desk. “y-you’re s’warm...god ma’am...need to—need to move,” the redhead huffs weakly in order to keep himself quiet, a line of sweat dotting his brow. “please,”

you sit up on the desk, legs locking around his slender waist to draw him closer, sheathing more of the poor boy inside of you until he’s completely bottomed out and balls deep inside your pretty cunt. he drops his neck to your shoulder, tongue lolling over your salt licked skin before biting down to pacify himself, sharp teeth almost drawing blood while you adjust the cord of the phone. “i was thinking…thinking that we got the hockey player— the oylmpic champion…” your eyes drift to kirishima’s complacent face, giving him a nod to start moving while he sucks another bruise further down his onto your collarbone. “t-touya...touya todoroki—!”

you hiccup but play it off with a cough when kirishima pulls back his hips, so far that his girth completely leaves you, before he drives himself forward with one powerful thrust and fills you right up again. looking down, you see him bulge in your tummy, the line of his girth prominent against your body— slightly dwarfed in kirishima’s arms. you rock your hips, coaxing your intern into your warmth to help him build up a momentum of thrusts.

‘sounds like a good choice, do we have anyone who could interview him? i believe we can have PR set up an interview this week.’

the desk creaks below you, hard wood groaning along with the red head who hides himself in your neck, squeaking pathetically as he moves inside of you— precum smearing along your gummy walls that welcome his hardened shaft. your pussy opens up for eijirou like it’s welcoming him home, still growing used to the pleasure-filled burn and stretch of him pushing in and out of you. the nerves on his head catch amongst your inner ridges, making his toned body shake in ecstasy.

“m-ma’am, feel s’fucking good, so fucking good...” your intern hums against your salty skin mawkishly, large palms dropping to the flesh of your ass— kneading it to bring you closer to his body— cock barely leaving you due to your proximity. with slow strokes, eijirou fills you up, painting you with what leaks from his tip— prodding at your cervix and brushing up against your sweet spot in ways that make sweet nectar dribble from your hole.

your digits curl in his hair once more, the phone slipping from between your neck and creating rustling on your end. “eijirou,” you sigh breathily, humping back his cock while you squeeze around him selfishly, keeping your intern inside of you. “i-i mean eijirou kirishima, he’s an intern— such a… a good one at that…”

a immodest whimper brews in the base of eijirou’s throat, bubbling against his bruised lips  while you shower him with praise, indirect to him, hand snaking up to the back of your neck— tangling in your baby hairs as he pulls you up to a sloppy kiss, slotting your mouths together and running his tongue over yours. “f-fuck mommy, ‘m i your good boy? please tell me yes, fuck, yn— ma’am,”

kirishima’s voice rises in octave as it does devoir and pathos, vulnerability stays written across his handsome features as he succumbs to the mind break the heat of your damp, creamy core as he fucks into you. you throb at his use of mommy, shakily pulling the phone away from your ear to reach up to his own, nipping the earlobe and tugging on it gently. “you’re my good boy baby, keep being good eiji, be quiet...you gotta stay quiet if you want to keep fucking mommy okay? you wanna cum inside me right?” you say, words aberrant and low toned  on your tongue, your intern hisses and whines in response— nodding his head again and letting out a barely coherent ‘yes’. “then shh, baby, let mommy talk yeah?”

“hm’kay,” he babbles, dropping his ruby framed gaze to where your bodies meet, hiking your skirt further up your thighs to get a better view of your cunt staining his heavy balls with a layer of your slick.

‘ms. ln, are you sure that you want an intern to cover this case—’ the board begins to ask you, muffled from the distance away from you both.

picking up the phone again, you pull the line towards you again— mindful of capturing eijirou’s weak little mewls over the device as he languidly pumps himself in and out of you. “i know what i—fuck, what i want. eijirou, will be—oh— on the case. that's final.” you huff, watching your intern fall into a pussyhaze, his precious mind fogging with thoughts of only painting you white inside and out as a reward for helping relieve you of stress. the slow roll of his hips into yours are accompanied by the soft slaps of his skin against your own, wet and sticky— determination to make you feel good crackling across his mind.

‘there’s no need to curse, ma’am, do you need a moment to recollect yourself before we proceed with discussing the other features.’

“i’m fucking fine,” you growl, in anger or need you don’t know. but kirishima frowns, you can feel it as he start nosing up your cheek— swiping his tongue over areas of skin he hasn’t touched just yet— he grunts possessively , unhappy with the use of your title coming from anyone other than him. to prove his point, he pushes your thighs wider apart, letting you drip all over the documents sitting below your ass and ruining the ink— important or not he starts a brutal pace into your cunt and presses down on your tummy so you can feel exactly where eijirou is inside you and know that only he can make you feel this way.

‘ms.ln—‘

“i’m fine. keep going.” you grit your teeth, biting your lip to hold down your panting— again you don’t know who you’re speaking to. your intern who slows the movement of his hips, postponing in and out of your tightened hole, clamping down on him eagerly or the stupid board member giving you grief on the phone.

they proceed to talk, barking out suggestions to your sports magazine, that you hate— even considering bringing in good for nothing athletes who’d treated you like shit in the past, and you’d sworn to never work for them again.

but it’s almost silly, how kirishima lets out small moans of mommy and ma’am, trying to keep your attention on him like you would give up grinding down on your intern’s dick for some prissy member of the board over the phone— but you love the slight possession eijirou has over you, moulding your iron hot walls into the shape of his fat dick that presses up against your pleasure spots, makes you convulse and drawl and become addicted to everything that is him. eijirou kirishima.

“takin’ me so good, so well ma’am...don’t think i can hold on anymore…please,” eijirou warns you, losing control of his body as he takes you for his own like he’s done many times before after hours— your gazes lock, you can see his desperation to ruin you, moan for you despite the people on the phone and the people outside your office.

if he grows too loud, he could give you away— they could be listening in to your poor needy little intern humping you like a feral dog and whining your name. and as much as that thought makes your hole spasm around his fat cock, make his thrusts stutter and eyes screw shut while you moan in sweet, almost silent harmony, you love your job and so weakly, you take two of your fingers, shoving them deep into eijirou’s mouth as it hangs open in heavy pants of warm air. you press down on his wet tongue, fucking into his mouth in tune with the pace of his hips plunging deep within your walls, churning up your syrupy and sticky insides.

“keep quiet, baby,”  you hiss to the redhead, who’s eyes start to brim with fresh hot tears from the overwhelming pleasure. “let mommy take care of this, yeah? finish up so you can let it all out on me.”

he sucks on your fingers to calm himself down, shallow breathing while he paws at the flesh on your sides and circles his hips into yours— letting his leaky tip bare down on your sweet spot and forcing the air out of your body. white hot pleasure flashes through your bloodstream, replacing any air of professionalism flooding through them. you can’t, you physically cannot hold back either of your orgasms— you can’t concentrate as your mind starts to fall away with the world and your gaze hones in on the way kirishima takes your fingers in his hot mouth so deep in an attempt to hush himself.

the coil in your tummy begins to unwind and the room swims once more. ‘ms.ln is everything okay over there— we need to progress with his meeting if we’re—‘ the annoying board member sounds underneath kirishima’s sloppy groans, saliva dribbling down the sides of his mouth. your dirty, good boy.

“i’m going to need to take a rain—hah— a rain check on this meeting. you’ll hear from me when my interns and i are ready—“ you huff, cutting the staff off and quickly throwing the phone onto the hook, you’ll have keigo deal with the consequences later but for now you focus on kirishima who picks you up by the ass, lifting you up and down on his cock in frantic movements as he finally loses all connections to his control. “ohmygod—eiji baby, slow—fuck, down—“

he shakes his head, latching onto your collar bone as he revels in the way you leak down his shaft and drip between his balls, lewd squelching sounds fluttering through the air hot, sex scented air at full volume. “‘m sorry ma’am— i can’t… i’m really close, i really need’ta cum...please ma’am...mommy, i’ve been good—please let me cum...“ eijirou groans heartily, from deep in his chest as if he’s finally releasing what he’s been holding back— arms flexing and the sweat from his body slicking up your own.

limbs shaking you wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your foreheads against one another, while you nod. he worked so hard to make you feel good, all day long to do the best job that he can— pressing small kisses to his lips encouragingly. “you can do it baby, one last thing for me— fill me up eiji, cum for me.” you whisper between bites and sucks on his lower lip, lined with a vibrant shade of red.

“cummin’, cummin’...miss yn, mommy—!” and then his hips come to a halt, his dick pulsing as waves of his cream line your insides with an opaque white, thick and seeping down your thighs. his fingers drop to your sensitive cunt, slipping quick circles over your swollen clit to bring you to your high. his cock never stops pumping in and out of you, pushing his seed further into your sex while you writhe and fall over the edge into your orgasm— gushing so hard you force him out of plugged and full hole.

losing his strength, kirishima collapses on top of you, pressing out both to the hard wood seat which you’re surprised  is still standing, his lips pressing fleeting kisses across your face and neck while you both come back down to earth.

and then he looks up at you with a weak smile, “did i do good?” he asks you lazily and almost sleepily— refusing to budge from laying atop you and almost crushing you with his weight.

pushing back his hair to soothe him. “always eiji, you’re not my favourite intern for nothing,” you coo at him, pulling him up to press your lips to him in a soft kiss.

“i sure hope you don’t have any other favourites, i want to be the only one who assists you like this,” kirishima says, remaining tangled with you for a moment more in your office, content with snuggling into your exposed and bruised side.

you share a sleepy giggle, intending to clean up later— eijirou completely forgetting about the lunch he’d promised the other interns after your meeting.

oh well, assisting you was a much better treat than spending time with any one else.

[chateautae]

saudade | kth. (m)

saudade ; “a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something/someone that one cares for and/or loves.”

➵ summary : a demanding idol lifestyle was something taehyung and yourself were all too familiar with. it wasn’t so hard when considering your unconditional love for one another, but lately, taehyung wasn’t the same anymore; and you decide it's time to find out why.

➵ pairing : idol!taehyung x choreographer!reader

➵ genre : angst, smut, fluff (the holy trinity), idol!au, established relationship!au

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 16k

➵ warnings : sexual content, swearing, dom + sub dynamics, dom!tae, fingering, oral (f. receiving), lots of dirty talk, t e a s i n g because let’s face it this is tae, big dick!tae, cock sliding, marking, restraint (with his own hands), unprotected sex (wrap it up peeps), rough sex, mushy i miss you sex, lots of feels, tae undresses reader (it’s hot i promise), praising, name kink, slight body worshipping, slight brat-handling, forced orgasm, creampie, one spank, tiny impreg kink, aftercare

➵ a/n : wow, my first fic on tumblr!! i’m beyond excited to finally be sharing my stories and writing, hopefully i can let you escape into a whole new world and enjoy my works! comments and feedback are always appreciated <3

2:27AM. 

He still wasn't home. 

Texts on delivered, calls unanswered, radio silence on all social media. 

And it wasn’t just tonight, it was every night. 

Everyday. 

And it’s been a month. A long, grueling month.

A month where he only acknowledged your presence just once and called it a day. A month where he returned so late and left early enough the following morning you didn't see him. Somedays, he never even came home at all. You made suggestions to hang out together, and he declined them on the premise of 'too busy'. 

It hurt beyond comprehension. 

It's like he wasn't even there.

But you knew he was. 

He was the one who moved your sleeping body from the couch to your shared bed every night, a sweet gesture of his that gave you hope maybe everything wasn't so bad. Sometimes, though, you woke up on the same couch the next morning, knowing he most likely stayed the night elsewhere. 

You tried to remain indifferent to the treatment, figuring he was just stressed with his tightly-packed schedule that didn't always include you. 

But it was beginning to feel heart-breaking, disappointing, but most of all, so lonely. It was starting to feel like he was slipping away from you, like you were losing him, relationship tearing at the seams. It left you nothing but heartbroken and afraid. Afraid of where your relationship had gone, afraid of whatever happened to the never-ending love you two shared. You both harboured an array of feelings for one another that infinitely tethered you two together, kept you madly in love and nearly impossible to separate.  

So where was that now? How could it have all changed within the span of a month? 

You’ve survived comebacks with him before and he never entertained this kind of behaviour. Maybe you had a fight or two about someone cancelling on a plan or working too hard but nothing as excruciating as this. 

Your relationship began to feel empty, so meaningless. And the more he was distant, the stronger the pain grew and your love seemed to be losing its vitality.

Why would he do this? What's gotten into him? Did I do something wrong? Why doesn't he care anymore? you asked yourself repeatedly for weeks.

You’d think work was the issue, where your relationship had to be purposefully low-profile and subdued. But ever since the inception of your relationship, Taehyung never found any of that difficult. If anything, he loved it the most. You could easily leave it to the 'forbidden’ or 'looked down upon' stigma of you two dating to make everything 100x hotter, more exciting, and fuck, did you and especially Taehyung enjoy fiddling around with the concept as if you were some modern-day remake of Romeo and Juliet. 

The sneaking around, the thrill of moments only you two shared, the promises you kept, the secret kissing or displays of affection, your romantic status like classified information some were only privy to. 

But you didn't have to worry about suddenly losing your 'Romeo', though, because Taehyung wasn't as stupid as he was (no offence, Shakespeare). 

Taehyung remained business-like whenever he needed to be and tended to his work accordingly. He was always cautious of the consequences your relationship warranted, and worked hard to prove your love was worth it despite his chaotic life and the challenges everyone warned you of. 

Taehyung has also always been mischievous, a little rebellious, someone who doesn't always like following whatever he's told; so this relationship was just his cup of tea, making it hard to believe he would grow tired of it considering his well-precedented admiration. 

But now, you weren’t so sure. 

Now he seemed practically devoid of the fact that you two were even dating. He didn’t naturally gravitate towards you anymore like before, instead increasingly gravitating away from you. He didn't linger around to catch a moment with you anymore, didn't come looking for you, didn't spark conversation whether it was important or not, even stopped looking at you as a whole. It seemed like being in your presence was something he avoided rather than just didn't do, like he wanted to fill his time elsewhere and sometimes… you swore it felt intentional. 

As if he didn't want to be around you. 

You sought communicating with him about everything, pinning all the blame on his mountain-high stress and how busy he was thinking you could help ease his mind; but he stayed firm on the notion he was just fine. You obviously knew something was up and wanted to confront him, but you feared pestering or nagging him, never wishing to add to his stress.

And you get that, you really do. He has this demanding, grandiose life that you should understand is incredibly stressful and time-consuming. But you're going to be honest... you fucking missed Kim Taehyung. A lot. 

Granted, you saw him at work, even more so now with a comeback dawning on the group, but it wasn’t the same. 

You missed being home with him. You missed the way his big arms cuddled you when you watched a movie together, you missed 'attempting' to cook dinner with him, you missed your snuggly mornings where he wouldn’t let you go until he laid at least a hundred kisses on you. You missed him tickling you when you least expected it, randomly playing any track of jazz or slow music, swaying you until he made you giggle and you missed him never forgetting to kiss your forehead whenever he parted from you, even if he had to be discreet where work was concerned. 

The cute, couply things you missed, sure. But the one thing that consistently clouded your mind and bothered you nearly every second of everyday... 

Sex. 

That active as hell sex life you two had, you missed every damn detail about it and your body desperately yearned for its revival.

After a month's dryspell, you craved Taehyung so badly it wasn’t funny anymore. From all the times he eyed you suggestively, to the way his large, touchy hands ended up all over you, to the way he eventually laid you down, lost himself in his torturous but pleasurable teasing, maybe even tying you up or handcuffing you in the process, getting you dripping wet before he eventually fucked you just right simply out of his own desire.

Nope. 

You can't do this, it only made you hornier than you already were and fuck, did anything you try on yourself not work at all. You were feeling greedy. Going from doing it nearly three times a week during quarantine lockdown with him to suddenly having gone a month sex-free left you losing your mind. 

There used to be so much fire, so much love, so much passion between you two. It was intoxicating, so ardent that you could feel yourselves aching for each other in your bones.  But now, all of that felt either non-existent or buried so deep underground you couldn't feel much of anything. And of course, the absence of sex and the cute stuff collectively sucked, sure. But what scared you the most were your own thoughts. 

What if he's finally tired of you? What if he wants to focus on his career? What if he's found someone new, someone that isn’t staff, someone much easier and less burdensome than you..

You stopped. 

A dark web of assumptions swarmed your head, all seeming completely plausible and welcoming a dull, daunting sadness to loom over you. Your chest constricted at the thought of your fickle importance to him, wincing at the possibility it could be true. You sat in silence in your lonely home, leaving you to ponder when the apartment began to feel so forlorn in the first place.

The photographs he took framed the walls, the old albums he owned littered your shelves and even one of the many jackets he owned was currently sprawled across your couch. You noticed the way his presence was so deeply rooted in the home, yet he felt as distant as ever. 

You settled in on your couch, cradling his jacket at the thought of how much longer this would continue, forcing yourself to sleep in hopes of ridding the feeling of emptiness from your chest.

But you couldn't.

Your mind drowned struggling to sleep, giving up on shut-eye as a whole until eventually you began swimming, swimming through your emotions and one particular thought stood out to you; this wasn't fucking fair. 

It just wasn't, none of this was. You can't let him continue this, can't remain on the fence about doing something and you certainly cannot just let this go. It was your duty as one of the active partners in this relationship to fight for its life, so that's exactly what you were going to do—with one conclusion you were convinced would work. 

You should give him a taste of his own medicine. 

You decided to be upset, ignore him and see how he reacts. Respond with the same curt responses, not give him the time of day, 'naturally' gravitate away from him. Hell, you could start tomorrow by waking up earlier than him and seeing how he responds to your empty side of bed for once. 

That's if he even comes home tonight. 

This seemed like the only sure-fire method of gaining his attention. Maybe if you acted unreasonably, far from how you usually do he would finally pay you any mind, have to approach and confront you. You’d always let him off the hook on the account of him being an idol, but now he’s taken it too far. 

Your mind grew hazy somewhere in between thinking and shuffling on the couch, only the sight of a vacant apartment and the scent of his cologne lulling you to sleep. 

You groaned as your eyes fluttered open, the reality of last night resurfacing as you remembered the impromptu plan for today, cursing how early you had to wake up to avoid him. 

You lazily rubbed at your eyes as they landed on the clock on your bedside table, suddenly registering you were in a different room altogether. It was then you felt the softness of your pillow, the silk of your sheets, the familiarity of your room's walls coming into view—all of it blissful until you froze at the feeling of weight around your waist, a quick glance confirming it was an arm. It was then you felt your neck being fanned by hot breaths, your back flush against someone's bare chest and you felt your heart speed up. 

Is he...?

Thinking you're getting ahead of yourself, you're proven just right when you turn around to a face you knew all too well. 

Taehyung's soft figure rose and fell as he slept soundlessly next to you. 

You instantly softened, in a bit of shock because he was right there, angelic as ever as he breathed calmly and cuddled your smaller figure into him.

He still held you to fall asleep, huh?

A smile found your face at the thought as you admired the details of his; thick, pretty lashes pressed against the skin underneath his eyes, his large, veiny hand tucked under his cheek as the other draped you, his pink, pillowy lips sealed together in an adorable pout. You shifted onto your side and nuzzled closer into him, listening to his rhythmic breathing and watching his broad chest rise and fall. You melted into his presence, soaking in all the glory that was Kim Taehyung. 

You then remembered he was always here, he did give you his personal time; you just didn't see him. You knew he moved you at night, tucked you in, maybe kissed you goodnight. Maybe he had moments where he felt terrible for being away, whispered sweet apologies and promises into your ear.

But then again, you wouldn’t know, you didn't spend enough time together for you to know. 

A sudden movement of his arm and that eerie thought snapped you back into reality, instantly scolding yourself for getting distracted by him. You had to focus on how you felt, hone in your emotions and refrain from doting on your precious boyfriend. 

You wouldn't be able to ignore him later if you didn't start now.

You were forced to leave his warmth, having to ready yourself for today's rehearsals and resolving numerous things for however long this would continue; you needed Taehyung to feel what you've been feeling all this time, needed him to feel the absence of your presence just as you had felt his. 

And you'll be damned if you were going to be easy about it. 

A couple hours had passed as you stretched, yawning after revising a rehearsal video, the murmurs of staff keeping you awake. Stretching for what felt like the millionth time, you slightly jumped at the sound of the studio doors opening just before the scheduled time. You watched it mindfully, your heart speeding up at the thought of suddenly seeing Taehyung so soon. 

Don’t let it be him first, don’t let it be him first, don’t let it be him first. 

You calmed down once your eyes set on 5 of the members ambling in, watching them greet people until you eventually spotted Jimin and Taehyung trailing behind, thankfully too occupied with giggling to see you. 

You rejoiced in the lack of eye contact until you decided to sneak a peek at Taehyung, mortified when you found his eyes suddenly locking with yours. The shock made you turn away instantly, swallowing what felt like your heart down your throat. 

Your ears were welcomed to the boys making conversation, playfully teasing the 95's for apparently being late and in the midst you managed to shyly greet everyone... except Taehyung.  

And this didn't go unnoticed by him, who already felt worried since he woke up to your cold, unoccupied side of the bed this morning. Taehyung instantly found it off-putting, since he usually knew your schedule and left him wondering what reason you had to disappear without informing him. 

Curiosity flooded him as the thought continued to bug him, what did she have to do so early in the morning? His inquiries turned into actions when he began passing through the boys, immediately stepping towards you. 

"Morning, Y/N. Everything alright?" Taehyung innocently reached for your shoulder once he settled beside you. You almost let him do it, making you reminiscent of when he actually gave a shit about you, but you remembered your little scheme and swiftly pulled away.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Taehyung immediately froze up, disbelief riddling his handsome features. You've never once rejected his touch so blatantly. 

You would never do that, he thought.

Taehyung paused his hand at the point he would have touched you, tugging at his bottom lip uncomfortably before rubbing the back of his neck. You internally winced at the hurt you could see on his face through the studio mirrors, forcing yourself to stand your ground as he feebly spoke again.

"You don't seem fine. Why did you wake up so early this morning? You didn't tell me about it..." He scratched his neck awkwardly, a hint of a pout in his tone.

"I don't know, I just couldn't sleep. I don't need to tell you my every move, Taehyung." You responded curtly.

"I know..but you could've told me, Jagiya. We could've spent the morning together in the apartment if you were up so early." Taehyung looked at you in protest, lowering his voice so others couldn't hear. 

The use of your pet name after a long time instantly ticked you off, even more so his proposal, he could say all that cute shit but couldn't act upon it? 

Irritation nestled its way under your skin, causing you to whisper dryly, “Just get to stretching, Taehyung, we have a lot to go over today.”

His jaw clenched as he swallowed, a troubled expression painting his face. He managed a small 'okay' before he unwillingly stepped away.

Taehyung was beyond confused; something was wrong, seriously wrong. It wasn't just your harsh tone or icy aura, but even in the way you addressed him so plainly as Taehyung. 

He didn't understand, he's seen you mad or annoyed before, but nothing along these lines and he couldn’t piece together the reason for your attitude. It seemed like nothing would ameliorate your mood either, leaving Taehyung cursing whatever evil thing was making you so upset. 

Despite experiencing that bitter demeanour, however, Taehyung was forced to watch you act friendly with everyone else during practice.. except him. 

And what was even worse, he watched you do so for the rest of the week. You had gone a whole week with your (what he found to be) ridiculous behaviour, everything about you so different with him he was left consumed with frustration. 

He watched as you continued to treat everyone else the same, getting a little too close to them than he liked. It was something he noticed in the weeks previous to this, but now silently pissed him off even more because this time you decided to purposefully exclude him; and he hated it. You barely spoke or tended to him over the course of the week, Taehyung's envy blooming in his chest at the way you acted so close to everyone yet treated him, your boyfriend, like a stranger. 

He didn't understand why he was the only one, you talked to Jimin about what he did on his days off, pretended to box with Jungkook, danced around with Yoongi and Hoseok and goofed around with Jin and Namjoon. Hell, he even found you socializing with other staff and dancers more than usual. 

Taehyung couldn't fucking stand it, what in the world was wrong with you? Not only did he figure something was clearly wrong, but that he clearly did something wrong. 

He was beyond confused, annoyed, but more so worried as to what was fuelling your actions. Taehyung didn't know what he did, and he couldn't manage not knowing anymore, most of all despising the feeling that he was suddenly losing you. 

He quickly resolved after a gruesome week he wasn't letting you go after rehearsals tonight, giving a fat fuck you to his evening plans and trading them in for confronting you. 

Your eyes stung from a week’s worth of waking up at the ass crack of dawn to avoid Taehyung, rubbing your eyes as you slung your purse over your shoulder to end another day at the studio. Thinking you were alone, you swiveled around to an empty room and surprisingly spotted Taehyung.

You jumped a little, not expecting him to still be here when you knew he had dinner plans tonight. 

Did he cancel them? 

Suddenly realizing this is the first time in over a month you’ve been in a room with him, alone, and especially after the week you've spent purposefully dodging him, anxiety flooded your chest. 

Your eyes flittered around, nibbling on your lip awkwardly as you pretended he wasn't there. You eventually met his eyes and he returned your hesitant gaze with an intense one, nearly peering into your very soul. He remained unbothered with his hands tucked into his pockets, and now that you were finally viewing him, couldn't help but swoon over his look for the day. 

He really chose to wear that damn grey hoodie with matching grey sweatpants that makes you weak, hair styled in the messy curls he's been sporting ever since his perm and wearing that one silver hoop earring you found incredibly hot. 

He looked like a fluffy puppy but also a full-course meal crafted by God himself. 

This isn't fucking fair at all. 

He noticed you staring at him and his head cocked to the side, studying you with a hint of a smirk. He raised an eyebrow tauntingly, like he wouldn't let you go after trapping you in what felt like shackles around your ankles. You could only swallow dryly, averting your eyes and reminding yourself you had to get out of his trance

His power over you was immense, especially when he flipped his curly fringe from his eyes, examining you with such a fiere, unreadable expression you shifted nervously on your feet. 

How is he so dominant when he's standing a whole 15 fucking feet away from you?

You watched a self-satisfying grin play onto Taehyung’s lips, loving the way you squirmed under his undivided attention until he suddenly began stepping in your direction, sheer panic overtaking you. You weren't ready, you didn't really think of the result of this plan and now that it's worked, you knew you were in trouble. 

Taehyung is unpredictable as hell, you never knew what was running through his mind and which idea he’d pick to entertain. You malfunctioned at the thought and your flight response kicked in, making you step towards the door at light speed. 

"I..uh.. I have to go." You stuttered and purposely ducked around him. You felt relieved once you passed his deep stare, until you felt his slender fingers suddenly grapple onto your wrist. 

Shit. 

"You're not going anywhere." His low voice reverberated in the room, sending currents through your body. You refused to look at him, knowing it would make you squeal, but you stabilized your voice to speak. 

"I..", you swallowed, "don't think it's your place to say." 

You felt his hold on your wrist tighten, knowing that pissed him off. 

A small moment of silence passed and you thought he'd given up, relaxing until he suddenly yanked you towards him, your smaller figure crashing into his chest. He held you against his tall body as his eyes locked with your timid ones, forcing the confrontation of your obvious issue with him. 

You took a stubborn step back instead of giving in, arms crossed. Taehyung had enough of you evading his look and gently lifted your chin with his index finger.

"My place? It's been a fucking week and you haven't even looked at me, Y/N. What is your problem?" He emphasized with annoyance, but his soft eyes gave away he was just desperate for an answer. 

"Nothing's wrong, Taehyung, I'm just tired."

"Oh really? Tired? Y/N, don't think I didn't notice you ignore me for an entire week. I thought something was wrong in general but clearly you have a problem with me and only me. What's your deal?" He vented in frustration, tone utterly displeased.

You only scoffed disbelievingly, looking towards the ground in search of something to hold back your piled-high emotions. 

Taehyung grew tired of your silence and sighed with dejection. He cupped your cheeks and looked at you seriously, "Look at me, bubs, what's so wrong? Did I do something?" the newfound frailty in his voice left you sucking in a breath of guilt. 

You really wanted to voice how you felt, teetering on the possibility until you suddenly became aware you'd be requesting demands from one of the busiest people on Earth.

 Your tongue habitually tied itself. 

"It's just.. It's not important, Taehyung. Let me go." You abruptly turned out of his hold, locking your jaw tightly. 

"Why in God's name would I let you go? Something's wrong, Jagiya, and that's always going to be important to me." Taehyung squeezed your arms affectionately, suddenly warming you to him. 

You could instantly feel your emotions conflicting inside, flooding your chest with regret yet frustration so heavy you needed air. Your eyes were beginning to reveal your vulnerability, trying to blink away threatening tears. 

"Taehyung, just let me go, it's absolutely nothing." Your voice sounded shakily unconvincing and yet, you were tugging yourself away as if he would believe you. 

"It's not nothing, I can clearly see something wrong. Why won't you just tell me?" 

"Because I don't want to tell you, Taehyung. It's really just nothing." 

"You keep saying it's nothing but I can see it in your eyes, you're upset, Jagiya. I know you." Taehyung spoke matter-of-factly, his grip and tone growing desperate.

"I'm not upset, I'm just exhausted." 

"Exhuasted..” Taehyung trailed, licking his lips. “Of course, because now you're waking up earlier than you usually do in the morning and on top of that without even fucking telling me why." His tone grew irritated as he scoffed, looking away from you.

You instantly grew annoyed. 

"And I told you I don't need to tell you my every move, Kim. Why are you even so pissed about it?” 

"Did you just.. family name me?" Taehyung narrowed his eyes

"So what if I did?" You deadpanned. 

Taehyung let out a deep sigh. 

"I’m pissed cause I got worried, okay? Not everyone has a situation like ours where anyone could do shit to you because of me, so I like knowing where you are." Taehyung stressed with a serious tone. "And listen, I’m not letting you go until you tell me what's wrong. I'm fucking serious, Jagi, you did not just ignore me all week only to tell me nothing's wrong." 

"And I'm not gonna say anything. I'm fucking serious, Taehyung." You mimicked him, hoping he'd let you go. 

Taehyung dragged his tongue along the inside of his cheek and chuckled dryly, your impossibility unbelievable to him. He pursed his lips before slowly releasing you, his hands up in mock surrender. 

"Fine, you can leave then." 

You took his words without a second thought and immediately turned for the door. You had just cracked it open before Taehyung’s hand suddenly smacked it shut from behind, making you turn around startled. 

He abruptly pinned you against the door with the weight of his body, locking you in with both arms. He leveled himself to your height and peered directly into your eyes.

"And I told you, I'm not letting you go, Ms. Y/L/N." Taehyung now mimicked you as you felt him dominate you with a degree of alpha-male that left you entranced and unable to move. He drew himself closer to your face, so close that he granted no room for you to breathe. You could only stand in defeat, your doe eyes wide as you flashed them to his lips and back to his eyes. 

Taehyung couldn't resist how much he wanted you anymore.

"I always forget how challenging you can be." He spoke in his deepest, sultriest tone, that damn bass paired with his dancing eyes causing you to bite your lip. 

Taehyung watched you do so and grew hot, finding you irresistible when you were acting impossible yet became putty in his hands. You balled your hands into fists against his chest as he dangerously inched towards your neck, his proximity shooting arousal through your blood. 

His scent was intoxicating, resurfacing the numerous thoughts you had of him in his absence. He manifested butterflies in your chest,  knowing you had to resist him yet found yourself giving in.

He finally ducked into your neck, anticipating the connection of his lips until he only ghosted your skin. He breathed against you purposefully to elicit a reaction, gifted his desire when he felt your body lean into him and breath hitch. 

You hated that you wanted him to kiss you already. You craved him so desperately, so in need of his touch that just the feeling of his body pushing you against the door was enough to make you press your thighs together. 

And little did you know, a month and a week without you left Taehyung dying to devour you. 

As if noticing you getting impatient, he pulled you towards him by your waist and his lips finally crashed onto your neck, a silent groan escaping you as his plush lips began mouthing sensually. You let out a breathy moan but gathered the courage to speak up, knowing full well the high creeping up on you and you needed to get back at him.

"Maybe if you were home more often you'd remember." 

A small laugh escaped Taehyung, "So that's what this is about?" The sudden puff of his breath made you want to jump him. He deliberately pushed his hips into yours, shooting jolts throughout your core once you felt the familiar prodding of something hard. He began sliding one of his hands up and down your waist, almost in an effort to distract you. 

"Of course it is, Tae. You're never fucking home." You spoke with vexation, growing both sexually and emotionally frustrated over the way he was pressing you up against the door and inviting a stirring feeling to constrict your insides. He brought his thigh in between your legs, slightly grinding against you as he added pressure to your heat and sucked your sweet spot.

"I'm never fucking home, huh? Who do you think moves you from the couch to our bed? Makes sure you're comfortable and tucks you in? Kisses you goodnight?" He asked rhetorically, letting his teeth bite at your supple flesh and embellish you with his favourite purple marks.

"T-that's not the point, Taehyung. I'm not awake. H-how does that count as you being home?" You retaliated as best you could, snaking your hands to grab the nape of his neck, fingers trailing into the curly ends of his hair. He groaned so audibly that you grew shamelessly hornier.

"Because I do come home. I sleep next to you in our bed, even cuddle you." He began sucking underneath your jaw, wrapping his arm around your torso to press you flush against him. He kissed down your throat trying to bite and leave more hickies, pushing you back for support.

"I-I just told you, that doesn't count, Tae. You... come home when I'm asleep and leave before I wake up. I-I never see you." You tried to maintain your composure, hands hugging his head close to you. 

"But we already see each other here, don't we? You see me at practice, meetings, in the building... no?" He suddenly came off your neck and his hand flanked to your chin, advancing for a kiss. But immediate annoyance flooded you upon registering his words, pulling your face back. 

"Are you kidding me? You count that as seeing each other? All we do is rehearse choreography and work together. How is that 'seeing' each other?" You asked, baffled at his audacity. 

"Because we're at least together, aren't we? Isn't that all that matters?" Taehyung looked at you as if you were the ridiculous one, ignoring your concerns and trying to kiss you again. You immediately removed yourself from him and pushed him back, his hands letting you go.

"That's not the issue, Tae. The issue is that you're really busy and I get that, but we literally haven't done anything together in the last month. And the reason that sounds insane to me is because we work and live together, you'd expect that somewhere in that time we would’ve done something... but we haven't." You emphasized as you pled your case. 

"Princess, we've been over this. I told you at the beginning of our comeback that our time together was gonna be limited. I remember you agreeing to that and understanding. Why is this coming up now?" 

"So going an entire month neglecting your ‘princess' is what you meant? Your 'limited' seems more like 'nothing at all'.” You air quoted and crossed your arms, becoming annoyed with his ambiguity and sudden use of another pet name. 

"Okay, that's not what I'm saying. All I'm saying is that comeback season is busy, it's one thing after another and I can't always keep up with everything. There’s a lot going on; our album, company business, don’t get me started on the mountain of work with promotions, concerts, filming and photoshoots. I'm even making an entire fucking mixtape. I’m trying my damn best here." Taehyung vouched for himself, holding his hands up to defend against your accusations.

"And I'm not saying you don't try, I understand that you're busy but what I’m saying is I don't even feel important to you anymore, let alone a priority. We barely interact, you never do anything with me or talk to me, but for everyone else you’ve got all the effort in the world to spare. I get that you're an idol, I always see you working hard and I'm proud of that. But you somehow make time for everything else.. why can't you just make some time for me?" You felt like you sounded selfish, almost faltering from revealing anymore but you felt so neglected it had to be said. 

"Wh-what about you? Oh my God, Jagiya.. you're such a high priority to me. Trust me, you really don’t know what I'd do for us and you should know I’d damn well do or sacrifice anything. It may seem like I'm not right now but I promise it's not like that. You'll always be important to me, how could you think otherwise?" Taehyung was perplexed by your sudden outburst, never having known of these feelings before. He reached his hands out to you but you abruptly denied him, snapping at the question.

“Then what’s it ‘like’, exactly? Because it seems very much to me like you want nothing to do with our relationship.” 

“No, that’s-that’s not it at all. Don’t worry about this, okay bubs? Overthinking this won’t do you any good, just trust me.” 

“Trust you? You're not even answering my damn question, Taehyung, what is it then? Why aren’t you telling me? Are you fucking hiding something?” You began speculating, his repeated vagueness irking you.

“Jagi, no, just listen to me. Know that I mean it when I say you’re important to me, you’re the love of my life and you'll always be a priority. Why are you thinking like this? Where is all this coming from?” Taehyung asked incredulously, getting on your very last nerve. 

"I don't fucking know, Taehyung, maybe because you ignore me for hours on end? Maybe because you leave me every morning without considering just waking up together? I know we can't make it obvious we live together, but we’ve always found a way before, what happened to that? Your texts and phone calls are so meaningless. You make time for your friends and other people but don't make any for me." Your eyes turned glassy, tears escaping as you recalled your terrible feelings over the last month. 

"Do you know why you find me sleeping on the couch every night no matter how fucking uncomfortable it is? Because our bed literally smells like you and it constantly reminds me of you but you’re not even there. Do you know how many times I've wanted to talk to you but you're too distracted and I know you'd just push me away? Or how scared I am of bothering you? How many times I've wanted you to come home? How utterly empty and lonely the apartment feels without you even though everything about you is riddled all over it? You don't get it, Taehyung. You just don't fucking get it." You found yourself crying and clutched your chest where it felt like your heart was on display for Taehyung, the reality of everything hitting you like a 16-wheeler. 

Taehyung did nothing but blink at you for several seconds, shocked at what he just heard. Were you seriously.. that upset? His absence was that prominent? It didn't even feel like a month to him, but it seems to you it felt like an eternity. 

Taehyung unfortunately only knew his packed schedule and making sure he didn’t fall asleep where he shouldn't. A multitude of things ran through his mind on a daily basis with his chaotic life; discussing outfits with his stylist, trying to purchase that new serum his makeup artist always reminds him of, meeting with a producer to review freshly composed songs for his mixtape or finally going out for that one drink he always promised a friend or two—and he suddenly hated it all. 

He especially began to loathe his demanding life when he saw the hurt on your face; the way your eyes glistened with pain, the loneliness in your voice, the way you tried physically holding yourself together. He couldn't fathom he was the cause of such pain, wincing at how utterly stupid he was for not noticing this earlier.

I really did do something to her.

He searched for anything to say, beginning to form words but quickly stopping himself from starting a sentence each time. He only examined your crumbling state and regretted not having talked to you sooner, but suddenly wishing you informed him about your feelings preemptively.

"I.. I thought you would've said something, Y/N, but you didn't. How am I supposed to know you feel this way if you don't tell me? You-you seemed okay to me." He inquired softly, tone riddled with guilt, but his words only made a disdainful scoff leave your lips. 

"Told you? Taehyung, you have always made it clear that you're a busy person and I've always respected that. You also made clear the importance of this comeback and that I just had to understand how limited our time together would be. Of course I had to act okay. How could you expect me to come and beg you for your attention after you tell me not to seek it?"

Taehyung was taken aback, falling silent. You watched him angrily, finding it unbelievable he really had nothing to say for such a crucial argument. 

"I was fucking embarrassed, Taehyung. I thought you'd get mad at me for hovering around you while you were busy and stressed. I didn't want to fucking suffocate you." 

"What? Jagi, no, this is important. I wouldn't have reacted like that at all. If you were hurting this much you could've told me and I would've done something. You can always talk to me, how could you not know that?" Taehyung inquired with a hint of accusation and it was like every cell in your body had set off.

"Oh fuck you, Kim Taehyung. Don't give me that bullshit! Of course I know, but I also know that you just get caught up in your own world and your extravagant idol life and I don't wanna fucking bother you when you’re living it without me!" 

"Y/N, don't. I'm not trying to pick a fight with you, can you watch your tone a little?" Taehyung asked with a frustrated timbre.

"You know what? I won't, Taehyung, let's fight. Only way to get your attention, isn't it?" Your feelings had reached its peak as you decided to egg him on.

"Don't do this, Y/N. I'm trying to have a civilized conversation." 

"And I don't want a civilized conversation, it's only making you ask me stupid questions." 

"They're not stupid questions. Can you not understand my side of this?" 

"Nope, I won't because I don't care about your side, actually." 

"The fuck? And you just expect me to understand your side when you won't even try to understand mine? I’m expected to know how you feel? Well news flash, Y/N, I can't exactly read minds.” He humorlessly tapped his head for effect, quipping at you harshly.

"I'm not asking you to read my mind, I'm just asking you to fucking pay attention for once in your goddamn life." You rolled your eyes dramatically, arms crossed tight as ever. 

Taehyung noticeably grew angry at the remark, his eyes narrowing in irritation. "Do not tell me of all people I don't pay attention. You know I've changed over the years but how attentive I am hasn't. Don't ever say that to me again." Taehyung's stern voice warned you of the line you were crossing.

You immediately softened and turned your attitude down a notch, only by a margin since you knew he would never grow angry enough to do anything to you.

"Fine, you pay attention, but clearly not enough." You acquiesced, looking away from him. 

Taehyung tried his best to reason now that he sensed you yielding. "Look, this is my first time hearing about this, okay? I had no clue, especially because you seemed and acted fine with me. Of course I'm going to tell you you should've just talked to me, I'm seriously not asking stupid questions." 

"Well, I didn't want to talk to you." 

"And how was that going to help you? It's only making us argue over something so easily fixable." He indirectly accused you and you returned your eyes to his, narrowing them at his audacity. 

"Wow, easily fixable, huh? Do you really think it takes that little to earn my forgiveness after neglecting me for an entire month? Am I that easy to you?" You smiled to yourself miserably, turning away as tears spilled from you. 

Your assumptions were correct, he really just thought of you as some easy pushover. Part of this was your fault, wasn't it? Being so quiet and passive about everything. You voluntarily let him get away with everything, let him slip away without a fight, and the frustration of that realization came washing down on you, hard. 

"No, wait. That's not what I meant. I just meant that if you'd let me known earlier, we wouldn't be fighting like this." Taehyung instantly softened at your tears with regret, internally facepalming himself.

"I didn't want to openly tell you, okay? It makes me seem...like an attention-seeker, and I was so afraid of bothering you." You wore your heart on your sleeve as your voice wavered, more tears escaping as you attempted to blink them away. 

Taehyung looked at you with overwhelming worry. His heart was beyond broken now, his desire to fix everything growing stronger with every tear that dared escape your eyes. 

He needed to make this right, fast.

"It doesn't make you a fucking attention-seeker, Y/N. Stop being so worried about how you appear to me, I'm with you for a reason. I accept you in any way, especially after how much we fought for this, for us. Your feelings too, they're all fucking valid to me. I really would've done something if you’d just told me how you felt." Taehyung practically pleaded, his pouty lips and devastated eyes making it clear he just wanted to reach some sort of consensus with you. 

"But that's the problem, Tae." You sniffled, wiping some tears. "You keep saying I should’ve told you, when you should've noticed on your own in the first place." 

Taehyung felt like someone had slapped him across the face, his lips parting as a deep look of realization dawned on his gorgeous face. "I…" He trailed, but couldn't let words out. He was realizing how stupid he was, how unobservant and ignorant. He hated it all, hated that he was so busy, hated that he didn't pay enough attention and hated that he hurt you. 

You gave up when his lack of words warranted a tense silence between you two, cut short when you hastily left the room. You walked in the direction of the parking lot angrily. You just needed some air, needed to go home and cleanse yourself of him for the time being. 

You thought you were being quick enough, until you heard laboured footsteps and Taehyung's low voice echoing in the hallway, tailing you. 

"Y/N! Wait, wait! Please, don’t walk away!" Taehyung practically begged as he rushed to your side.

"I'm not gonna wait for anything, I'm going home!" 

"Stop! My manager's gonna take us home tonight, okay? We're gonna talk about this." He stated with solidarity as he grabbed your arm, eager to patch things up.

"No we're not, and I have my own car, I'm getting myself home." You snatched your arm from him and marched on.

"You can leave it here for fuck's sake, and I said stop. We're going home together and sorting this out because I can't leave you like this, okay? We need to fix this."

"Awh, all I'm getting from that is you'll finally be home for once!" You chirped sarcastically, never looking at him as you practically stomped away. You saw him falter from your side, knowing he had to have paused at the heft of your comment. 

You both eventually made it through the building’s doors, you needing to be pretty much dragged into his manager’s car despite your vehement protest, stupidly shut into the back with him.

You were turned away putting on an Oscar’s worthy performance of pretending he wasn’t there, and Taehyung was left to canvas his numerous thoughts as the car drove. 

He realized he had said nothing to your comment earlier because.. you were right. 

When was the last time he sat in a car with you like this? The last time you were both home together? The last time you both lazily threw your things onto the floor once you arrived home and immediately smothered each other after holding back all day? The last time he held you in his arms while you two watched a trashy movie? 

Holy fuck, when was the last time we had sex? Made love? 

He could only think of memories from weeks ago in quarantine, nothing recent. His solemn gaze fell upon you as he thought. He could feel the prominent tension between you two, the gut-wrenching distance, leaving a black hole swallowing his heart. He felt no ease, no affection, no love. 

When did it fucking become like this? 

He was still struggling to stomach the fact that he hurt you. He watched you regretfully, tears pricking at his eyes as he saw you attempting to hold back your own. 

He then felt the sudden need to hold you, to comfort you. You had been pulling away from him for so long that he wanted nothing but to feel his large, warm hand cradle your smaller, colder one. Reassure you that while he's stupid, he's still here. 

Taehyung looked at you and leaned over, deciding to gently slide a reaffirming hand atop yours, gripping your fingers with all the love and warmth he could muster. 

He expected you to reject him, nearly giving up on a reaction until he felt your tentative hand just barely grab his back. Surprised, he took a relaxed breath. 

I'm going to fix this.

Taehyung shut the door as you two sauntered into your apartment and you disregarded your things, heading straight for your room. You thought it would make Taehyung leave you alone, but he caught your hand as you began stepping away. He didn’t yank you; simply held your wrist, still and remorseful with your back to him. 

A long pause passed as he stood in place, silence piercing the air until you spoke coldly, "What do you want?"

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could manage, his once powerful voice so incredibly small. 

You searched for a response, the air becoming somewhat suffocating as you sighed. “I know.” 

“No, you don’t. Jagiya, I mean it. I mean it with everything I have. I'm so sorry” Taehyung insisted with meaning, like he was seconds away from falling apart if you didn't believe him. 

You could hear the sincerity in his words and you could feel how heartbroken he was, but your exhaustion amassed with all the emotions that had been attacking you all week were discouraging you from participating in any conversation right now. 

“You may mean it, but that’s not fixing anything, Taehyung. You really don’t know how it felt to have you ignore me. To see you unaffected by our time apart. It felt like you were pushing me away, like I wasn’t worth your fucking time anymore.” 

“That’s wrong, Jagiya. You are always worth my time.” 

“Then maybe you’re just a contradictive jerk, Taehyung, I don’t know!” You threw your hands up as you broke his hold, turning around vexed. 

"Because one day you're telling me to basically fuck off because you're too busy but the next you're saying I'm worth all your time? Where the fuck was that the last month then? All you had to do was spare me a couple hours a week, just a couple. I wasn't even asking for much, you could've made the time!"

“I'm sorry, okay! I’m a jerk, I get it, but I had a reason! I have a fucking reason but right now I want to apologize and say I'm sorry. I’m sorry I made you feel like that, I’m sorry I neglected you and made you feel alone, I never intended that!” Taehyung sincerely implored, eyes worried and persistent as he reached for you. 

“Then what did you intend? Saying sorry after the fact does nothing. If you didn’t intend to hurt me then what did you intend to do?!”  You shouted, evading his touch again. 

“I was doing it for you! The reason was all for you, for us!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as anger seeped into your blood, unbelieving of whatever excuses you thought he was making up. 

“For me? Us? Really? Wow, did you suddenly quit your job as an idol to become comedian of the fucking year?” You quipped venomously. "How the fuck is you ignoring me for a month 'for our relationship'?" 

Taehyung was trying hard to calm himself down, thinking twice about how he was going to handle this. "Y/N, please, just try to trust me on this." 

You scoffed disbelievingly, shaking your head as you quickly made your way further into the apartment and over to your TV. Taehyung's eyebrows furrowed as he watched you reach towards the shelf underneath it. It was adorned with cherished photos of the people you both held most dear; family, friends, the boys. Most of them consisted of Taehyung entertaining his love for photography, having snapped stunning photos of scenery, people or a combination of both he adored enough to frame. 

But many were of you two, either in front of gorgeous landscapes or adorable candids. You picked up a photograph of you two in Daegu—Taehyung's big arms enveloping yours from behind as you hooked onto them, all smiles in front of his family's strawberry farm after his camera’s timer snapped the photo.

“See this? This is something you did for us, you told me you only take and frame photos of the most beautiful moments in your life, and you gave this to me telling me it was your favourite moment.” You placed the frame down, opting to grab the gray Sherpa blanket off the couch in front of you. 

“This? You got this for me after I was diagnosed with anemia during Christmas and had been shivering for months. You told me not to worry because you’d always keep me warm and whenever you weren’t there I could use this blanket instead, think of it as you. You did that for me.” You disregarded the blanket and held up your wrist. 

“This bracelet? You got it for our anniversary and made it our equivalent of promise rings because you know I hate rings. You even made sure your bracelet matched in a way that other people wouldn't notice and was only special to us." You watched as Taehyung slightly lifted his left hand to look at the mentioned bracelet. "You did that for me, for us.” Tears were brimming your eyes as you spoke, voice growing shaky.

“Taehyung, you did all those sweet and thoughtful things for us, for me. Those are the kinds of things you should be doing, not fucking hurting me by acting like I don't matter to you, making me question everything. What’s wrong with you? How could you scare me like that? Treat me like I’m nothing and say it’s for our relationship?”

“You're not, you're not nothing." Taehyung's voice caught in his throat, trying hard to dry his glassy eyes.

"I get it, Y/N. I fucking get it, what I’m doing right now may not seem as sweet as all those other things, but I promise it’s as thoughtful, it's still all for you. I’m serious when I say that, this is all because I love you. Why can’t you just believe me?” 

"And why can’t you just say what it is? Why won't you tell me? Are you hiding something? Taehyung, what you did felt like anything but love-" 

"That’s not true. The reason is insignificant right now because I didn't mean to hurt you, I’m so fucking sorry.” Taehyung's voice shook with genuity, trying once again to approach you, gingerly, affectionately. 

Your anger couldn’t subside with the way he kept side-tracking, however, your emotions growing erratic again. "Are you kidding me? Insignificant? The reason is the most important! Just tell me, why did you ignore me for an entire fucking month?!” 

"I said it's not fucking important right now. I want to apologize first, I didn’t mean to do it!" Taehyung was desperate to reason, eyes begging you to believe him. 

“It is important! Tell me what you’re hiding.”  

“It’s not important.”

“Yes it is!”

“No it isn’t!” 

“Yes it is!” 

“No it isn’t! I'm trying to earn your forgiveness firs-Y/N, what are you.." Taehyung’s eye widened in shock.  

He couldn't finish his sentence because he watched you grab a cushion from the couch and suddenly launch it in his direction.

"What the fuck? What are you doing?!” Taehyung exclaimed as he dodged, his large hands instinctively catching the object, looking at you like a confused puppy. “Did you just throw that at me?!” 

“I did! And I'll do it again until you tell me what you’re hiding!” You challenged him like a child and started reaching for throwable things. Pens, notepads, books, even a stray plastic water bottle all went hurtling towards Taehyung. 

You couldn’t stop throwing out of frustration, his unfair gift of ambidextrous hands and incredible catching skills making you even more frustrated. 

Did he really have to be made so fucking perfect? 

He continued defending himself from your attacks until he grew annoyed, “For the love of God, Y/N, stop throwing shit! Just put everything down and listen to me, you have to trust me before I can even explain myself!” Taehyung shouted more so with concern for you, dodging a bottle of vitamins. 

Now why the fuck was that just lying around? 

You snorted condescendingly, "Again with that, trust you?" You mocked as the TV remote came into your hand. 

"You know what, Taehyung? Let me explain for you, you’ve just found someone new who's not fucking staff, haven’t you? Our relationship got too difficult and you’ve finally had enough. You’re hiding shit to save my feelings, aren’t you?” You accused him much to your dismay, angry tears pooling in your eyes.

"What-no! Fuck no I would never do or think any of that!" Taehyung vehemently denied, finally having reached you and wrestled you for the remote. He eventually pried it out of your hands, throwing it away and holding your wrists as you resisted him.

 "It’s none of that, alright? I was just so damn stressed and I had way too much work. There’s so much going on, it fucks with me and I didn't want to make you my fucking mental care, unload my idol life crap onto you. You're working just as hard and I didn't want to burden you.”  Taehyung desperately revealed trying to reach you, upset that you could even think such ridiculous, lowly things of him. 

"Don't you dare use work as an excuse. I know you were busy and stressed, but you were making time for everyone else in your life except me. Just say it, Tae. I know you're tired of us!"

"Fucking-Y/N, it's literally not that at all. I was actually busy, okay? What I said is true!" Taehyung pleaded, he knew he was only telling part of the truth, but it wasn't exactly a lie.

"It can't just be that, there's no way. What are you hiding from me? I'm serious, I'll leave this conversation if you don't, I'll leave this apartment if you don't-” 

"No! Just-alright! You really wanna know so badly?” Taehyung inquired rhetorically, his jaw locking. “Fine then. You fucking got found out.” 

You stopped fighting him and blinked, confusion riddling all your features. Taehyung sighed deeply and continued before you could say anything.  

“We got too comfortable, okay? I'm still an idol and our team heard a shit ton of rumours spreading outside the company about me dating someone. They controlled most and knew any remaining ones would just turn into baseless gossip since nobody knew your identity. I’d just get talked about which I didn't care about. But people somehow started finding your face, your name, and your information was spreading fast. Management was scared you'd be made public especially with reporters and cameras so up our asses these days and watching us. I was terrified when they told me. I couldn't let anyone know you, not when they’d do or say shit to you just because we're together… so I had to do something."

Now it was your turn to stand in shock for several seconds, utterly wide-eyed at the bullet you didn't even know Taehyung was keeping from you. 

“What-what the fuck? What do you mean? When did this happen?" 

"The same time I started 'ignoring' you. Nobody pressured me to break up with you, but I was warned to dissolve the rumours asap. I took matters into my own hands by acting the way I did to get people thinking we were either broken up or never dating in the first place. I hated doing it.. but it started working. I didn't want to tell you anything because I knew you'd just say we could solve everything together when we weren't in a position to do so." Taehyung wasn't hiding his clear anguish, upset having to recall his awful memories of the ordeal.

You were still shocked at how little you knew, finding yourself at least understanding of his actions and reasoning, but crossed your mind better ways to have dealt with this; especially ones that didn't entail hurting you.

"But Taehyung, you should've let me known. If you had just told me I wouldn't have gotten hurt like this. Why would you keep this from me?"

"I just.. I couldn't tell you. It felt like I was breaking up with you and I couldn't handle it. Even when I finally had the balls to do it I ended up prolonging because I just got so busy and pushed everything away to focus. I felt like I could deal with it on my own, fix it all by myself. I didn't want to drop this on you when you were busy too." 

You exhaled harshly, hating how unfair this entire situation was. "You could’ve told me with something like this, Taehyung. I can't just let you carry the burden all on your own, this entire problem had to do with me. We promised we wouldn’t keep shit from each other especially considering the circumstances of our relationship. Why would you break that promise?" Your eyes welled up again, inhaling painfully. 

Taehyung paused, scoffing humorlessly. "Yeah? I broke that promise? Jagi...you broke that promise too." 

You blinked again, his eyes piercing yours poignantly as you could only look back at him in defeat. 

He was right. 

He was entirely right, you hid your feelings from him and never told him anything, a clear violation of that promise on your end. But you couldn't let his wrongdoings go either, not on this; the hurt, the doubt, the thoughts he made you think. That pain was making you fall apart and the reality of it all came crashing down on you. "An apology still can’t fix this, Taehyung. I want to go to bed, we'll talk about this tomorrow.” 

You pulled away and moved towards your room until Taehyung rushed in front of you, grabbing onto your arms.

“Wait! This isn’t over, baby please, just listen to me.” 

“It is for today, Taehyung. I can't do this right now.” 

“No, I don’t want tomorrow. I want this now, I want to talk to you now.” Taehyung insisted with what seemed like his entire being. He didn't want to spend tonight like this; he didn't want you to sleep upset, and neither did he. 

“Taehyung, you’re making me repeat myself. Let me go, please. I’m exhausted.” You choked on your words, swiping your tears. 

“No, I told you I’m not fucking letting you go, especially not now.” He gripped you stubbornly, searching for your eyes.

“Taehyung, for the love of God just let me go-”

“I said no!” Taehyung's volume suddenly pierced the room, his intense aura stilling you. 

He didn't sound angry. rather in need, like he was calling out to you with his entire heart and the tight hold on your arms gave it all away. 

You finally decided to pay attention to him. His tone beyond serious, his eyes swimming with worry. His miserable face and refusal to let you go regrettably softened you. You understood him, saw the desperation and concern behind all his actions. 

But he chose to neglect you. He made you feel alone, made you overthink numerous possibilities about your relationship and even question his feelings for you.

"You.." You exhaled with agony, swallowing hard. 

None of this was easy, the nights you spent curled up on the couch overthinking, lying to everyone that you were okay, working in the studio alone to get him off your mind, blaming yourself. The accumulated pain of all those days now manifested in your chest all at once, making your heart ache. 

"You made me feel like I wasn't important to you, like I wasn't worth your time. I.. thought you found someone better, easier.. that I wasn't enough for you." Your voice crumbled by the second, your mind jumping to the one conclusion you tried to avoid the most but couldn't any longer. 

"I thought you weren't in love with me anymore." 

Taehyung's heart shattered into a million pieces, overwhelming hurt piercing his chest so violently that tears instantly betrayed his eyes. 

He couldn't bear any of this anymore, the tension, the distance, couldn't bear that you ever thought such an awful thing. Small tears escaped him as he gently placed his hands on your face, looking into your eyes with insurmountable pain before colliding his lips with yours. 

He kissed you tenderly, passionately, like his mouth was dying to express how much he'd missed you, and trying harder to prove how utterly wrong your last words were. Before you could even reject him, you found your own lips mirroring the same longing, the same need after a painful month apart.

Your eyes fluttered shut as tears stained your cheeks, the sheer love you could feel in his kiss suddenly brightening any parts inside you that had grown dark because of him. He began working against your mouth hungrily, trying to commit every inch of your lips to his memory. 

The kiss was fervent, utterly desperate, your harsh breaths mingling together as his hands on your cheeks wiped your tears away gingerly and yours clutched his hoodie tightly.

It's like he was consuming all of you, attempting to deepen the kiss with every second that passed by as he pulled you closer. And for once this past month, you didn't feel like questioning his feelings for you, because he was now serving them on a silver platter, making it blatantly obvious he had never once lost his love for you and will never do so. 

He kissed you like he wanted you and only you, he kissed you like you were fleeting and could disappear at any moment, he kissed you like you were his home, like you meant any and everything to him, like you were the only galaxy he believed in and it did nothing but set you both ablaze.

His tongue swiped your bottom lip impatiently, wanting to taste you after so long and you permitted absent-mindedly, damning every emotion except love and lust to hell, welcoming him. 

His tongue entangled with yours sloppily as you slid your hands up his sculpted neck, a soft groan escaping Taehyung's lips once you tugged his hair. 

It wasn't until Taehyung caught your bottom lip between his teeth that you felt something ignite inside you. You both panted as you disconnected, gazing at his dark eyes for a mere second before impatiently crashing your mouth onto his again. 

This time you caught him for a heated make out session, pulling his hair aimlessly as Taehyung pressed you against him with his arms snaking around your waist, both of you moving perfectly in sync with one other. The feeling of your bodies so close ignited your arousals, currents running through both your veins.

Taehyung pushed you back against the nearest wall, hard. You nearly yelped at the contact but Taehyung swallowed it with his eager kisses, getting rougher, sloppier, growing high off the feeling of you wanting more, him wanting so much more.

He brought his thigh in between you, pushing his hips against yours and you felt his hardness through his sweatpants. Your panties practically soaked at the contact, your moans devastatingly loud and hot and only making Taehyung harder. 

He brought his hands down to cup your ass momentarily as he kissed you, sliding them to the back of your thighs. You kicked yourself off the ground into his hold, legs grappling Taehyung's waist as he forced you back up against the wall. Your hands grabbed his jaw tightly, wanting all of him as your tongues moulded together. 

Taehyung felt his urges to touch you overwhelm him, utterly dying to hear you desperately say his name and moan breathlessly into his ear. He had gone too long, far too long without feeling you lose yourself to him that he needed you now. 

One of Taehyung's impatient hands moved up to fumble with the button of your jeans, disconneting to look into your eyes, his pink, swollen lips irresistible. 

"Have you been touching yourself?" He breathed hard and asked mere centimeters your mouth, forehead leaning on yours. 

"B-barely. I couldn't get myself off the same way." You exhaled harshly trying to calm down, mind woozy from the sheer adrenaline he was pumping through you. "You?" 

"Tried, but nothing felt like you." 

Taehyung returned his lips to yours breathlessly and unzipped roughly, sliding his hand inside and finding your already sopping wet heat. His fingers made contact through the soaked material and you let out a satisfied moan, throwing your head back against the wall. Taehyung chuckled proudly, pressing his lips to your exposed neck as he began lewdly rubbing your folds. 

Your walls clenched around nothing, begging for something to fill you up. You shamelessly rode against his fingers, desperate for more friction and Taehyung absolutely adored how needy you were. 

He smirked to himself as he pushed your underwear aside, his fingertips suddenly touching your bare pussy and you automatically felt sparks, gasping. 

Taehyung felt your delicious wetness and a satisfied groan left his lips. He couldn’t stop rubbing you, playing with your folds like it was a game he mastered ages ago. His digits spread you all over yourself, teasing you. He purposefully brushed over your clit multiple times and you felt nothing but fireworks, the heat between your legs growing so hot you clutched onto his shoulders to stay sane.

"Fuck.. Taehyung fuck! If you go inside.. I can't.. I'll fucking lose it." You stammered out, trying to relax but Taehyung eyed your panting figure with a smirk so evil you wished he'd just fuck you against this wall right now. 

Taehyung brought his lips to your ear and spoke lowly, the bass in his voice sending chills down your spine. 

"Then fucking lose it." 

Without warning, Taehyung shoved his two fingers inside you, a smug grin decorating his gorgeous face as he watched you nearly cry out, gripping harder into his hair and shoulder for dear life. His fingers began sliding in and out, your walls welcoming him greedily as he pumped you, milking out every beautiful sound you could make for him as he relished in them. 

Taehyung was already the hardest man on Earth, his cock painfully tucked away in his pants and aching to be inside you. You brought your forehead against his for support as he went harder, your breaths melding as you panted fucked out moans from the sheer bliss of his long fingers, just something of his dragging inside you. 

Your body moved up against the rougher thrusts of his fingers, practically fucking you open and the delectable sting certifying you’d lost it for Kim Taehyung. 

You suddenly felt your insides beginning to stir around him and you panicked, not wanting to let go just yet, just on his fingers. 

"T-Taehyung.. shit.. I can feel but- but not just on this." Your head was so gone a coherent sentence seemed impossible. Taehyung's fingers curled up inside you as he pumped a little harder, faster, making you whimper against his mouth and he used every ounce of strength he had not to swallow them with kisses, just so he could hear you. 

"Taehyung, please.." You moaned loudly and held onto him so desperately that Taehyung finally snapped, his dick throbbing to have you wrapped around him and hear his name just like that.

"Fuck this." Taehyung pulled his fingers out and carried you straight into your room.

He threw you down onto the bed hurriedly, his eyes blown out as he positioned himself above you. You breathed unevenly as you looked up at him, his body rising and falling quickly as he tried to control himself and his hungry look made you push your thighs together. 

The sight of your flushed cheeks and panting body underneath him made Taehyung's dominant side thrive. He drank you in greedily, registering this as the first time in a month he had you all to himself. 

"You don't fucking know, Y/N. All those times I had to hold back. When you walked around the studio looking sexy as hell, moving your body like pure sin, and I couldn't do a single thing to you." Taehyung's dark eyes indicated something had awakened inside him.

"What do you mean?" 

Taehyung scoffed, "You just don't get it." He mimicked you from earlier. “I was putting on a front and none of it was true. Every fucking time I saw you I wanted to lose it. Every time I saw you concentrating with that look, working, seeing your exposed skin, all the times I caught you practically eye-fucking me and I wanted to eye-fuck you back." Taehyung breathed out, voicing his pent up tension. 

"But you know what was worse? The times I saw you laughing with fucking Jungkook, screwing around with Jin-hyung, the guys acting so close with you. Watching back-up dancers eye-fuck you, hearing all their fucking comments about how hot you are, people asking if you’re single now, and I couldn't do shit because everyone was always around, watching." Taehyung breathed frustratedly, dangerous eyes locked on you.

"You know I don't get openly jealous, but my blood still boils under my skin when I see or hear those things, especially when I can’t do anything about it. I wanted you.. so badly, just wanted to take you right there in front of everyone if I could.." Taehyung nearly growled as his head hung low, entangling his hands with yours and squeezing them on the bed. 

"Then why didn't you?" 

Taehyung's eyes flashed up amusedly, "Why didn’t-you wanted me to do something in front of everyone?” His confusion softened into a little smirk. 

“You wanted to be watched, huh?" Taehyung lowered himself to your ear.  "Wanted everyone see the way I fuck you? See the way I make you mine? Fuck you open for me?” Taehyung was setting your core on fire and you had to bite your lip. 

He noticed and hated that his lips weren't on yours, quickly planting them for a kiss. 

The weight of Taehyung's leg pushing against your throbbing heat started compromising your sense of control, wanting to rile him up so bad he'll have no choice but to give you what you want. 

"Fuck, this is what I've been waiting for. Teasing you under me, cumming just from my fingers and tongue, fucking you senseless until you’re cumming again." Taehyung's words were filthy as ever and you loved every syllable. 

"Then do it." 

He smiled smugly as his mouth moved to the one spot on your neck he knew leaves you squirming. Curses left your mouth the second you felt his teeth, Taehyung adamant on leaving deep, purple marks. 

“I'm gonna show everyone you're mine, only mine.” Taehyung’s authoritative voice came out breathy as he kissed and bit in between, obsessed with seeing the art he was creating. 

"Shit… Taehyung yes, I missed you, I missed you so fucking much." You desperately stammered out.

"I fucking missed you too, baby." He smiled, his dark eyes glancing from your zip-up sweater and back to you. "But first, off."

Your hands moved for the zipper until Taehyung caught your wrists and forced them back against the bed, obsidian eyes scolding you. 

"That's my job." Taehyung spoke dominantly, hot as fuck as he stared at you while bringing his mouth down to your zipper.

His teeth caught it and slowly zipped down your body, pronouncedly breathing against your bare skin that made you hiss, arching up into him as he held your hands down. 

Taehyung was welcomed by your bra-cladded chest, basking in the glory of seeing your body after so long. He began laying kisses in between your breasts, his every contact electric. 

"Taehyung, please.. don't tease. It’s been so long." 

"We'll see about that."

He reached a hand underneath your back to unclip your bra, practically ripping the clothes off you and chucking them. 

Taehyung was heating up drinking you in, cursing at how even the sight of your naked top was making him somehow harder. 

"Shit, Jagi. You're so fucking gorgeous." Taehyung stated with haste as his large hands found your thighs that rested either side of his hips. He then slowly slid them up your abdomen, cupping your breasts and fingering your nipples. Your hands reached out to hold onto him as you exclaimed but he roughly pinned them above you, restricting you. 

He lowered himself to your chest for hickeys, kissing, licking, nibbling the flesh of your boobs. You arched and groaned as he held you down, sexually frustrated as he torturously teased you. 

"Taehyung, please… you know what I want." You breathed out, your hands resisting but he kept denying you. 

"You’re so fucking hot like this, so impatient and needy for me." Taehyung groaned, lapping his tongue over the flesh of your breasts until the tip of his tongue finally glided over your perched nipple.

You gasped at the contact, whimpering as your walls clenched around something non-existent and you bucked up into Taehyung. You could feel heat pooling at your core, begging to be battered as he sucked on your nipples, tongue doing wonders.  

Marks now embellished your chest as he kissed down to your stomach affectionately and neared your lower half, exciting your opening. 

Your eyes darted down and suddenly caught his length, poking out from his sweatpants and practically begging for attention. 

He instantly took notice. 

"No, princess. It’s about you tonight, not me, no touching." Taehyung ordered seriously, looking at you with a sense of dominance that only left you more aroused. 

You made a whiny noise, "Why not? I want to make you feel good." You retorted, wiggling your hand out to touch him until Taehyung locked you down harder. 

He clicked his tongue as he began pulling your pants and panties down your legs with one hand, his dark eyes chastising you, "We'll get to me another day." He disregarded them and let his hand feel up your thighs, bringing his face to your entrance.  

"But right now, having you like this, begging-” he nipped at your inner thigh, “making those sounds-” he licked the marks, “wet as hell for me-” he sucked your flesh, “that's all I need." His tone dropped an octave, letting your wrists go and nearing your cunt inch by inch. 

"Taehyung, fuck-don't do this. Please, it's been too long, don't tease.." You pleaded, hating the way he was shamelessly working you up.

"Do you need me, baby?" Taehyung watched your breath hitch as he kissed around your nether lips. "Need to feel me inside you? Stretch you out? Fuck the shit out of you?" His low, dark tone made butterflies fill your abdomen and all you could manage was a light nod.

"Tell me, Jagiya. Tell me what you want from me, where you want me.." Taehyung breathed against your soaked pussy and you shivered, beyond impatient. 

"Y-your tongue, your cock, Taehyung, you. Please..I can’t do this.. just fuck me, make me come all over you.." You rambled and looked at Taehyung through hooded eyes. You grabbed one of his hands and brought him directly to your dripping heat, rubbing him against your slit unforgivingly.

Taehyung groaned proudly, "Good girl. I'll fuck you so good you’ll feel me for hours, so hard I’ll have to carry you to rehearsals myself." Taehyung's filthy words rang in your ears. 

A loud moan escaped you once Taehyung's pillowy lips and tongue pressed onto your pussy, your breath hitching as his muscle began licking into your folds. Taehyung hooked onto your thighs from underneath, parting your legs wider for him. Your hands found his broad shoulders for support and you tugged at his hoodie frantically, whining. 

"Taehyung, off.." 

Taehyung drew away from you to slide his top off. He threw the sweater mindlessly as he returned, deciding to sink two fingers inside you as his tongue began licking. His newly exposed skin made you feel more aroused, tugging his soft curls to manage the bliss he was supplying you. 

His tongue licked you like he was starving, sucking and flicking your clit occasionally as his fingers curled up inside your velvety walls. You felt like crying, after such a long time the pleasure was already building up inside you and so intense you needed to let go. 

"Taehyung-Tae.. I feel it. Don't stop..." You moaned weakly, your orgasm dawning on you as Taehyung quickened his pace. His dark eyes watched you through his fluffy fringe and it was intoxicating, had you throwing your head back against the pillow just to contain yourself. 

"Come for me baby, come all over my tongue and fingers. I wanna hear you.” Taehyung cooed at you as he pumped and the tip of his tongue played with your clit faster, soothing your thigh and adoring the wet mess in between you. Your loud moans and groans sent shivers down Taehyung's spine and blood straight to his cock. 

The familiar sensation of something coiling came to you, gripping Taehyung's hair until you saw stars and felt a fierce snap, the unholiest of noises leaving you as your back arched. You panted hard, bringing an arm up to shield your eyes, the pleasure of your high dizzying as Taehyung watched you, tasting and fingering out your orgasm. 

He kissed your entrance multiple times before he decided he was done. He straightened himself up and wiped your juices off his chin, licking your essence off him. Feeling you come undone on his mouth made him go feral, needing to feel your walls hug his cock just the same.

He positioned himself above you, gently moving your arm from your face. 

"Don't hide from me." he spoke softly, intertwining his hands with yours against the pillow to adore your fucked out expression. 

You admired him innocently in the moment, his honey-coloured skin kissed by the moonlight radiating through the windows. The expanse of his broad chest and shoulders looking more bulky now that he was working out, his thick neck, the beautifully visible veins in his arms that all created the art that was Kim Taehyung. 

Your eyes scanned over him greedily until you landed on his lower half, the tent in his pants looking so painful you again ached to relieve it.

Taehyung eyed you as you licked your lips, boldly reaching out for his dick. You touched sparingly, Taehyung instantly letting out a pleasurable groan until he caught your hand.

"What did I say? You never fucking listen, do you?" Taehyung brat-handled you, his alpha male on full display. 

“What if I don’t want to listen?” You disobeyed and reached out again, gaining full contact until he grabbed and forced your hand against the sheets. 

“I’ll make you regret that." 

Taehyung quickly shuffled his pants and boxers down and past his hips, disregarding them and leaving him bare before you. 

Your eyes began ogling the angry, red tipped cock that had sprung out, looking painfully uncomfortable and leaving you wishing Taehyung had just fucked your mouth just watch him suffer. He was already leaking precum, making you whimper at the thought of him coming inside you. 

Taehyung positioned himself in between your legs, bringing his dick to your entrance. He tried to bite away a mischievous grin before sliding his cock against your folds to mix your wetness with his.

"Shit, Jagi, you're so fucking wet." Taehyung moaned with you at the pleasurable feeling. 

"Fuck, Taehyung…I can’t, I need.. inside." Your sentence was mangled, his hot flesh against you heavenly. 

"Shit, saying my name like that..I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll feel me in your throat." Taehyung growled, gripping the base of his cock and aligning himself with your entrance. You readied yourself until Taehyung stopped, a thought suddenly popping into his head. 

"Wait, you got your shot this month, right? You're okay with raw?" He asked with no particular haste, concern glossing over his eyes. 

Taehyung's chest suddenly tightened realizing he didn't even know something as simple as you getting your shot, important to him since your phobia of needles was so bad you usually needed to hold his hand or talk to him on the phone. 

But he was so busy this month he couldn't do either.  

"Of course, Taehyung, of course I did." You breathed out erratically, trying to calm down after his tormenting cock sliding. You gave his hand that held yours against the bed a squeeze, wishing he would begin battering your insides already. 

"Fuck, I know how much you're afraid of needles.. I should've been there." Taehyung became disappointed in himself, eyes faltering from yours. 

You immediately grew soft, "Taehyung.. it's okay, if it's for you then I'm not so scared. Don't worry, bubs." You said as you let go of his hands to cup his cheeks, searching for his eyes. 

"But you get them just for me..even though you're so scared. I love you for that." Taehyung doted on you as he tucked your hair behind your ear, completely contrasting his cock about to abuse you. 

"Taehyung, baby it’s okay, I'm okay. I'm with you right now. I want everything you thought of, everything you want with me… I want you." You looked into his doe eyes tinted with guilt, offering him a smile. 

Taehyung returned a light smile of his own, pressing a feathery kiss to your lips before he grabbed the base of his cock again. He gripped your hand hard as his dick compromised your opening. 

He hissed once he sank in, the feeling of your pussy opening up for him eliciting a drawn out 'fuck' to leave his mouth. 

Taehyung could feel how tight you were after a month without him; you weren't as stretched out and he felt drunk. The way your walls hugged his rock hard dick so snug, so intoxicating he wanted to completely lose control but refrained with you in mind. 

You thought you were used to the pleasurable burn of Taehyung's gifted size, already aware of how well-endowed he is but you suddenly felt a harsh sting and forced your hands against his chest, exasperating. Taehyung immediately stopped, widening his eyes in concern. 

"Are you okay?" 

"Just-just give me a second." He nodded, feeling your breaths calm down as he soothed over your arm, your walls relaxing

"Y-you can move." You voiced weakly. 

Taehyung complied and moved in considerately, failing to suppress the low groans that left him. He finally bottomed out and hit your cervix, both of you letting out satisfied grunts at the feeling of him buried so deep. He could feel the way your walls pulsed around him to adjust, adding to his lists of reasons he was insane for you. 

Taehyung kissed you as he began fucking gently, slowly, wanting to feel the way you wrapped around him, craving for you to feel every inch, groove and vein of his cock. 

The feeling of him slowly and languidly thrusting inside you felt otherworldly, the longing, the care, the love in his movements so apparent you grappled the back of his neck to hug him closer. Taehyung rocked himself against you, laying deep kisses to your mouth.

"Fuck, baby.. you're so tight." Taehyung breathed out, unable to hold back his sense of control, gradually fastening his pace to fuck you better, feel more. 

"How does it feel, princess, tell me." Taehyung cooed into your ear, now kissing underneath your jaw. Your lewd noises grew louder as he began pumping faster and Taehyung looked at you. 

"Shit, Taehyung. I-I feel so fucking good. You fill me up so good… want more.” You practically whined, head spinning at his intoxicating pace, wrapping your legs around Taehyung's torso to feel him deeper. 

Taehyung weakened at the feeling, kissing your lips with fervor and now thrusting faster as his need to come undone racked his balls, but aching to treat you first. His skin was imprinted with your scratches, him only fucking you faster in response. 

"Harder, Taehyung, fuck me harder..!" Your voice trailed with a mewl, kissing him sloppily as your desire for more of him grew unbearable. 

Taehyung smirked against your lips, "You want it harder, huh? You like that? Want me to fuck up your insides? Batter this pussy up?" 

"Y-yes, Taehyung, please." 

Taehyung already felt fucked out, wrestling with your tongue as he wrapped his arms around your torso and pressed you flush against him. You both groaned louder as his pace turned unforgiving, 99% sure your neighbours could hear every lewd sound. 

"Taehyung.. fuck. I missed you. I missed you so much!” You spoke without a thought, light-headed but hyper aware of just how much you wanted him, needed him, not only with his cock buried inside you but just him, so close to you. 

"Shit, baby.. I missed you more. So much. So fucking much, you don’t even know." Taehyung growled desperately as he fucked deeper, kissed harder, his tone coated with sincerity. 

Both your confessions made for rougher fucking, nasty tongue kissing, tighter grasps on each other. You rutted against one another shamelessly, movements faltering in precision and more so in desperation as Taehyung shoved himself inside you. 

And he watched as he did, seeing the way he disappeared into you between your bodies and enjoying the way you bounced in response. 

"Taehyung, fuck, Taehyung.." You moaned out his name breathlessly as you gripped his shoulders, feeling your abdomen flood with heat as his cock kissed your cervix. 

"Jagiya, fucking-watch it, say my name like that again and I'll fuck the living shit out of you." Taehyung warned with a growl as he rammed into you. 

"T-Taehyung.."

“Such a bad fucking girl." 

His arms suddenly locked you down in place, holding you tight as he began the roughest, hardest thrusts you've felt all night. Taehyung deliberately pulled all the way out only to smash back in as he felt your body jerk up in response, swallowing your whimpers.

Your moans were loud, ringing in your own ears as you felt yourself losing your sanity. He snapped into your gut, filled you up so good all you could feel was him. Your orgasm was bubbling in your stomach, begging for release now. 

"Taehyung, I'm gonna- fuck, I'm gonna come!”  You warned him with a pitchy yelp, the tingling feeling unbearable as his body rubbed against your clit. 

"Come for me, baby, all over my fucking cock, Let me feel you." Taehyung encouraged as he desperately tried to hold his own load, wanting nothing but to witness the way you came underneath him.

And out of nowhere your second orgasm washed over you, barely noticing the snap as you ached from oversensitivity and protested him to a halt. Taehyung controlled himself as your walls continuously clamped down on him, watching you pant from fatigue. 

But he decided on your punishment and suddenly flipped you onto your stomach, instinctively settling on all fours as you felt him prod your entrance. He pushed you to arch your back and pulled your ass up, giving a nice smack before kissing up your back like the demon he is. He sank in with no warning and began drilling into you again, setting a merciless pace and angling himself to fuck you completely open. 

“T-Taehyung, what are you doing!”

“You’re coming for me again.”  

“I can’t- Taehyung I can’t!” Your hand quickly came down to entangle with his on your hip, his deft fingers boring into your skin as he mercilessly buried every inch of his cock into you.

“You can do it! Just one more time for me princess, let go for me.” He coaxed you as he felt your walls pulsating around him again, his arms hugging your body to his and mouth breathing unevenly near your ear. 

"Taehyung, Ah- fuck! C-come inside me, please!”

"Shit, I’ll stuff you with my cum, fucking give you my kids!”  Taehyung grunted as he continued bartering your pussy, reaching down to roughly rub your clit. You cried out, half from sensitivity but half from pure pleasure, gripping his hand hard. 

You felt the coil coming back for a third time and Taehyung’s encourgements were doing absolute wonders. "Taehyung-shit I’m gonna..fuck!”

Once he delivered a particularly hard, deep thrust with his hand on your clit, you gasped out his name as another orgasm released through your body, temporarily blinding you with bliss. Your legs grew weak as you buried your face into the pillow, trying to catch your breath. 

“Just like that, baby, just like that.” Taehyung spoke supportively as he thrusted one last time before finally coming inside you, helping you ride out your climax. He groaned into your ear as he spurted hot stripes of cum inside you. You squeezed his hand on your stomach that still held you up, feeling him milk himself of every drop he had racked up just for you. 

Once Taehyung felt completely vacant of his seed, relief washed over him as he kissed your upper back, both of your bodies lax and panting for air. 

"You're amazing." Taehyung tried steadying his breathing, beaming as he hugged you from behind, cock still throbbing inside you. "I fucking… I held that back for so long."  

"You didn’t have to… I would've thrown myself at you if you just came home." You breathed shallowly.  "Could've done whatever you wanted.. I planned...on treating you cause you were so stressed." 

Taehyung rolled his eyes at himself, "Ugh-don’t remind me. I already feel dumb as fuck." 

You turned your head back and scolded jokingly, "Don't call yourself dumb, only I get to say that." A soft giggle escaped him as he let you go. Taehyung slowly pulled out and watched as he did so, viewing the mess in between your legs with admiration. 

Taehyung swiped the cum dripping down your thighs back into your core, completely stuffing you with him until he brought his fingers to your lips. He watched you lick provocatively, his breath hitching at the sight until needing to pull his fingers out. 

He then quickly made off the bed and ambled over to the bathroom, retrieving a damp towel and cleaning you up gingerly. He plopped down next to you after discarding it and threw an arm over his eyes. 

You turned to look at him, feeling the butterflies of him next to you flood your chest. You wiggled closer and propped yourself on an elbow to gaze at him, your other arm laying on his chest. 

Taehyung felt your eyes on him and spoke without looking. "Hi."

"Hi," you moved his arm from his face, echoing him. "Don’t hide from me."

Taehyung grinned at you, lifting his arm. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" 

"Like you're madly in love with me. Don’t do that, I don't really deserve it." He stated dejectedly, evading your eyes to rather view the night sky. 

"Kim Taehyung, what did you just say to me?" 

No response. 

You sighed, "Bubs, look at me." requesting with a softer tone and he returned his eyes to you hesitantly. You wagged your finger at him.

"Don't say that, okay? Maybe you should’ve told me, maybe I should’ve been more vocal about my feelings, maybe we both should’ve just communicated. It's not only your fault, it's mine too so please don't say that." Your bottom lip jutted out and your eyes implored him, upset that he was insulting himself. 

He deserved every ounce of love in this world. 

"Maybe.. I just..Fuck, you need to know I hated doing it, okay? Every time I saw you in that building I was dying to be with you, but I had to hold back to protect you. I couldn’t bear something happening to you, and please, please don’t think I don’t love you anymore. I do, I love you more than you’ll ever know. If I could throw all of this away for you I would." Taehyung spoke sincerely, remembering the way he saw you admit such an awful thought and he hated that he was the cause of it.

"You really don’t know how hard it was. I’m writing lyrics for my mixtape and they all end up about you. We're out at a photoshoot and I always wanted to send you pictures. I didn’t use SNS, call or text you because I knew it’d just be harder for me to create that stupid ass distance.” Taehyung ran a hand through his hair as he sighed, frustrated about it. 

“Even when I was shooting commercials I thought about your reactions if you saw them. I missed you the whole time, more than you know. I just couldn’t risk anything, there was so much on the line with you and I wasn’t going to give you up. Work got in the way and there was so much happening and I just-" 

“Shh shhh.” You calmed him down reaching for his cheek. “Thank you for that. I'm sorry you had to do everything by yourself, had to carry all that responsibility alone." Your lips quivered, catching Taehyung's attention. 

"No, it's okay. I'm the one who made you think all those shitty things. I do find you annoying, but I could never find you that annoying." Taehyung quipped to lighten the mood and you smacked his chest. 

"Hey!" 

"I'm kidding, Jagi." Taehyung chuckled before letting out a long, hard sigh. "I was just so swamped with this comeback, I’m working really hard for it and got too focused." He explained regretfully, tucking his hands underneath his head. 

"So you just thought fuck me for a little while, right?"

"Wha-no I didn't, I mean.. I did just fuck you but-not like that…shit, just come here!” Taehyung suddenly turned onto his side and threw his arms out, you scooted over to him instantly, giggling. He tightly wrapped his arms around you and hugged you close, pressing his lips to your hair and you kissed his shoulder.

Your hand absentmindedly found his and you intertwined them, causing a warm and comforting feeling to spread across your chest. 

You found yourself becoming smaller in his hold, clutching his hand to compose yourself because you didn't feel like ruining a passionate night with tears. 

Nonetheless, Taehyung sensed you growing vulnerable and pulled you on top of him, your naked bodies flush against one another. Taehyung immediately showered you with comfort, clutching you close to him.

"I’m not going anywhere, you’re with me for a lifetime, Jagiya." The smooth bass of Taehyung's voice eased you, reverberating from his chest as he senselessly soothed your back.

"Please, don't do that again. Please just tell me next time when there's a problem, I'll tell you too and we can work it out together." A hint of desperation tinted your tone, shutting your lips together to prevent yourself from crying.

"I won't, baby, I promise." Taehyung hugged you a little tighter, running a hand through your hair. 

"I love you, Taehyung." 

"I love you, Y/N." 

[whump-town]

Breathe in

No pairings

Emily and Derek pulling Hotch out of a lake

I don't like this but it's sat as a WIP for two weeks and I haven't managed to add/change anything about it so I figure I'll just give up on it.

They’re five minutes behind him.

The first minute he spends completely submerged in the icy lake water. His radio cries out, Derek’s voice cutting through the air like lightning before the world goes blank. Hotch, sound off. Where’d you go? His answer is a mouthful of muddy water, it burns his throat and his sinuses. There’s a hand in his hair, holding him beneath the surface. The following minutes happen quickly. He doesn't know what happens, his hands are too numb and his brain an icy fire. Life rapidly loses its pace. He fights. His legs search for solid ground beneath him and his hands something to grab onto.

He kicks upwards, one foot sliding over an algae rock in a way that feels immediately like broken, the pain immediate and intense, but the other collides with a ribcage and the fingers let go. His head is released and from there it’s pure instinct – his body knows how to fight far more than his sluggish, freezing brain.

The air is somehow colder than the water but he gasps desperately for it, filling his aching lungs with as much as he can get in. It’s not enough, he can’t get enough. He’s thrashing around – drowning, he’s drowning. He sinks back under the water again, quick and shallow, but he sucks water back into his open mouth and into his lungs. His face burns. His eyes are sensitive to the bright sun, he can’t keep them open. Water falls from his hair down into his eyes and he blinks hard to try and see through it. His vest is heavy, the waterlogged material pulling him down.

“Hotch!”

His legs are struggling to keep kicking out, to keep him up above the surface of the water. The lake isn’t that deep but it’s above his head, too deep for him to walk. Numb. His arms and his legs feel numb and heavy, deadweight like the vest strapped to his chest.

“Hotch!”

He reaches out in front of him, too beyond himself to keep his head above the water and keep swimming. So he reaches blindly ahead of him, not certain he’ll even feel when his hand makes contact with the lake’s old wooden dock. He doesn’t but he manages to smack his knee against one of the heavy, round poles dropped down into the lake to keep it stable. He looks up, uses all his might to reach for the dock’s edge but misses. His fingers connect against the wood in a hard thunk but he can’t move the individual digits. Can’t hold himself up using it’s ledge.

He sinks fast. Can't move his legs. His energy is gone.

He sucks in cold, ice water into his lungs. His entire body is on fire.

Deadweight. He sinks down.

He jerks, something wedged in the space between his dress shirt and the shoulder of his vest. He’s pulled to his side, all of his weight on one shoulder as he’s pulled back to the surface.

“Hotch! Hey, hey!” He’s only partially conscious of the movements of his body. His teeth chatter as he comes up out of the water and he’s held by a single hand reaching down. Derek had come running across the deck, hitting its surface hard and nearly sliding over the edge to get to Hotch in time. Now his hips are dangerously close to pitching him over but Derek’s hanging over the edge dock, holding Hotch’s head just barely out the water. One of Derek’s hands hooked onto the shoulder of Hotch’s kevlar vest. Derek looks up over his shoulder, “Emily!” The others are coming but not fast enough. “Goddammit,” he huffs. He leans down closer, dangerously close to falling in himself but Hotch’s lips are colorless and Derek’s not even sure he’s breathing. He needs to pull Hotch up higher, his head limply trying to roll down into the water again. “Hotch!” he shakes the older man and gets no response. “Hotch just hold on. Come on, man.”

Emily falls down on the deck, assuming the same position as Derek as she moves her hips over the edge of the wood and reaches down to grab Hotch’s other shoulder. “You shouldn’t have run off alone,” Emily bites out. She’s aware Hotch isn’t listening to her, his eyes are only barely open and the only reason he’s not face down in the water is because Derek is holding his neck. “Fucking –” her hand stings as it meets the water and some of her anger abates, her stomach sinking. He’s freezing. Barely conscious. If they don’t get him out of this water soon it’s going to kill him. “Alright,” she tightens her grip and looks at Derek. “On three?”

He’s waterlogged and dead weight.

“Three.”

They get his chest up out of the water but not much further and when their muscles give out – it’s freezing and Derek’s grip slips, too much of Hotch’s weight shifts too much to Emily’s side and he drops. For a moment he goes under, his face going straight into the water.

“Fuck!”

Emily hits the deck with her other fist, “fuck! Fuck!” She leans over a little more, pushing and cursing her own upper body strength as she grabs under Hotch’s arm. “Hotch!” She yells as she pulls up with all her might, Derek joining in right after with a strained, Emily you’re no use if you fall in too. She ignores him. “Hotch, wake up you lazy son of a bitch!”

They start to fall forward but Hotch comes up more and Derek can reach down and grab him by his pants. He hooks his fingers under Hotch’s belt and starts to pull. “Come on!” Emily starts to tip forward but she catches herself and her grip starts to slip on Hotch. Derek’s arm is starting to strain. “Just grab him!” Derek shouts. “Just move your grip and pull him up!”

Emily moves quickly, pushing her hips further back on the deck. She’s not sure what else she has left to put in, she’s breathless and her arms hurt, but she grabs underneath Hotch’s arms and with another shout and Derek screaming beside her, Hotch’s hips come up over the side of the desk.

He lands across Derek and, with a gentleness that surprises her, Derek flips Hotch over onto his back. He holds Hotch’s head in his palm, Hotch’s ink-black hair poking through Derek’s fingers, and he eases his head down. Gentle as he lays Hotch out on the desk. “-have to get the vest off,” Derek says, waving her to come over. “I can’t tell if he’s breathing.” Derek taps Hotch’s cheek, “Hotch, answer me, man. Give me something.”

Her eyes are frozen on Hotch’s’ mouth. His face is so colorless she can see the shadow of facial hair on his chin from where she’s standing. He doesn’t shiver, doesn’t flinch – not even as beads of lake water slide from his forehead down his cheek like tears. His lips are blue, in a weird state of nearly purple, but still tinged with blue.

He doesn’t move.

“Emily!” Derek stops pulling at the velcro on Hotch’s kevlar just long enough to lock eyes with her. “We have to get this vest off.”

Right. It takes her a moment to fully process but she nods her head, “right.” She moves to Hotch’s left side, falling down on her freezing legs. It hurts making her stiff, aching fingers pry open Hotch’s vest but she’s zeroed on the task. On flicking her eyes from the straps to Hotch’s expressionless face.

“Fuck,” Derek leans his ear over Hotch’s mouth. Waiting. One…two… three... He roughly jerks at Hotch’s vest, the plate knocks into Emily’s hands it stings but she says nothing. Only watches Derek throw the vest up off Hotch’s chest, he leans down closer, wedges his fingers between the buttons of Hotch’s to get closer. To feel for movement – hopeful Hotch’s chest will expand any moment now as his lungs pull in air. But there’s nothing. The seconds tick on; six… seven… eight… “He’s not breathing.”

Derek wedges his fingers between Hotch’s throat and his tie, pulling roughly at it. Not caring if he scratches the delicate skin underneath, he needs to get this noose off his neck. The tie is stiff, the fabric holding on for dear life but Derek manages to get it to loosen. The second he pulls it free he throws it behind him and his fingers move to Hotch’s dress shirt, one hand on both sides of the fabric before ripping it open and sending buttons flying. Hotch’s thin Hanes undershirt is soaked his pale, sunken chest nearly visible through the white fabric. “I can’t tell if his heart is beating.” Derek can’t feel a thing anymore, his breath coming in white clouds and his fingers numb. He lowers his head to Hotch’s sternum and he presses his ear to the wet fabric of Hotch’s shirt.

One… two… three…

“Muffled,” Derek mumbles. “But it’s there. He must have breathed in too much water.”

Emily’s given rescue breaths. She’s done CPR for half an hour. Held torn arteries in her fingers. Felt people bleed out in her arms. Nothing prepared her for this. For Derek tilting Hotch’s jaw back and the way, Derek’s breathing  shudders, his nerves unsettled. He’s cool and he’s collected but he’s terrified. What if this doesn’t work? What if Hotch dies?

One breath. Derek looks down at Hotch’s face, his lips parted, eyes closed. His lips are cold, it’s the oddest sensation. His cold lips against Derek’s, wet from the lake water. Derek watches Hotch’s chest to make sure it rises and pulls up. Two. Hotch’s chest moves. Three. Derek watches now, waits.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Choke.

Hotch’s chest jerks, his stomach sucking in and his head jerking to the left. He chokes, water pooling in the back of his throat. Emily grabs his shoulders, her fingers slipping on his cold, hard flesh and getting handfuls of soaked, freezing fabric. “Alright – Alright,” Emily grunts as she rolls him over onto his side. He sputters, choking as he gags and convulses miserably. “Just get it out.” It’s mostly water, all murky and brown, and just bitter stomach acid. “Jesus.” He keeps coughing, gagging, and bringing up more watery vomit. With each inhale he’s choking it back into his lungs but he’s getting more out than in. Even if he’s making the worst, wet sounds as he chokes and struggles to breathe. “Hotch?” His eyes are open but there’s nothing behind them, he’s just gasping and choking. “Hotch – Aaron,” his cold fingers wrap around her wrist, stopping her from touching his face.

He looks up at her, eyes bloodshot and surrounded by pale, nearly translucent skin. His grip is bruising but he’s not vomiting anymore. He’s not shivering either. He’s just laid out, half-curled into himself, and dazing in and out. She can see it in his eyes. How he comes to some sort of clarity one moment and gone the next.

Derek leans down, puts himself in Hotch’s line of sight. Right, where his eyes are staring off into nothing. He can see Hotch recognize him, the clarity that brightens his face. “I’m gonna sit you up, it’ll be easier to breathe.” Autonomy, he thinks. He’s supposed to comfort and then lead, not just tell people what to do. But this is Hotch and they just practically kissed and yet mouth-to-mouth is hardly the most physically invasive thing they’ve ever done. They shared a bed in August in Alabama for an entire week, had to strip down to their boxers which, Hotch pointed out, would 100% be enough for the Sheriff to arrest them for some sort of indecency.

Sitting up triggers an annoying tickle along the back of his throat. Pinned between Derek and Emily he coughs until his throat is dry, the force causing him to dry-heave until he brings up more lake water. Dirty, grimy lake water. Emily groans, wincing as it lands in her lap. “Alright,” she tries to be helpful, comforting as she pats his side. “You’re alright.”

Derek pulls Hotch back against him, tilts him back so his head leans back over Derek’s shoulder.

“You with us, Hotch?” Emily pats his face.

Hotch groans, attempts a confirming noise. His eyes are still rolling, hardly open. “I’m… I’m fine.”

Derek glances at Emily out of the corner of his eye, sharing the same look of disbelief. Hotch is swaying, eyes trying to roll back. He just threw water up, nearly drowned, and is going into shock. Fine is not a correct assessment, not even close. “Hotch,” Derek nudges him. “How many fingers am I holding up.”

Emily scoffs, “that’s fucking stupid, Morgan. Your hand is too close.” She gets as close as Derek, puts her hand on Hotch’s shoulder, attempts to steady him but she has to move closer, hold the side of Hotch’s neck and guide his head so his eyes follow. “Hotch,” she shakes his leg but his eyes take a moment to come to her. He blinks twice in rapid succession. “What’s six times four?”

It’s Derek’s turn to glare at Emily, “six times four? Fuck sake Emily who knows that?” It’s gotta be twenty-something but twenty what? How are they going to know if he knows it if they don’t know it? “What’s the twenty-first amendment?”

Hotch is limp, not even shivering. He’s soaking wet, cold hair against Derek’s neck.

“Hey!” Emily shakes him, “Hotch, I need you to stay awake. That means eyes open.” She taps his cheek, waits for him to come around better. Eyes open. “What’s the twenty-first amendment?”

His response is a glare, a dirty look.

“Okay smart-ass,” Emily smirks, haggard as it is. “What is it? We didn’t all go to law school.”

He clears his throat, no color attempts to return to his pale, white face. She can see him, the lively glint in his eyes as he becomes more alert. His head still leaning on Derek. “Repealed,” he says, voice giving in on him. It’s just short of a croak, he’s coughed himself hoarse. His lips touching, speaking though his voice gives. “It repealed the federal prohibition on-on alcohol.” Then he starts to shake – so rough and convulsive Emily thinks he’s having a seizure. But his eyes stay open and for the first time, he feels cold rushing back in, it feels like fire across his skin.

“Emily, move –”

The paramedics shake the dock as they run onto it. Commanding the scene with ease, the power shift is forced away from Derek and Emily. They have shock blankets, a surplus shoved in everyone’s direction. Derek doesn’t realize how cold he is until Hotch is pulled out of his arms. Leaving behind only a wet patch on his shirt.

“Here,” a blanket gets pushed to all of them, three or four tucked around Hotch as he’s strapped to the backboard. “You two go to the second ambulance,” they’re pointed to the one, sitting on to the hill. “Get checked out, we’ll take care of your buddy.”

Derek gets stuck in place, stumbling forward a step but eyes fixed on the mask over Hotch’s face. Waiting. Searching. It’s not fogging up. The mask over Hotch’s face should fog and haze over with his breathing but there’s nothing. “Hey–” Derek tries to step back towards Hotch but Emily grabs his arm and he jerks away from her. “He’s not–” The mask fogs, slow. So painfully slow. Too shallow. “Emily, he’s not –” she squeezes his hand, pulls him forward again. This time he goes with her, his blanket around his shoulders, but looking back. Guided forward by Emily’s helpful, insistent pulling.

An awful feeling in his gut.

[samstree]

For the reverse trope ask: the soft character comforting the tough character after a trauma

Piece Him Back Together

Part of the reverse trope series.

When Geralt gets kidnapped, it's up to Jaskier to rescue him. Some truths about a witcher's worst weakness come to light.

(geraskier, 2.1k, hurt/comfort, geralt whump, mutual pining, competent jaskier, love confession, mild blood)

read on AO3

"Shit, shit, shit..."

Jaskier lets out a string of curses all the while balancing the weight of two fully grown men with stumbling footwork. He desperately tries to keep Geralt up with a hand on the small of his back but fails to stop the injured witcher from drooping with each step, until, at last, both of them wind up in a heap of limbs by the road.

Geralt lets out a pained grunt and Jaskier scrambles with apologies.

“Fuck, sorry.” The bard shifts Geralt’s bulk with all he can muster and finally settles him on a patch of soft moss under the tree. The witcher hisses as his back hits the bark rather heavily. “Shit, I’m so sorr—”

“You already said,” Geralt interrupts him but there’s no anger in his tone.

“Still. I am.”

Jaskier retrieves a handkerchief from his pocket and begins to dab at the mess of blood at Geralt’s temple, wincing when he finally sees how bad the blow is. Blood oozes from the gash, slower than a moment before. The fabric is soaked through and the skin there is still tender.

It’s all witchers’ weakness.

The temple. A blow to the head.

It messes up all their senses and coordination, leaving them in the most vulnerable state. If Jaskier had reached him any later, this might have done Geralt in.

Jaskier lets out a distressed sound at the thought.

“Stop fussing. We need to go.” The witcher, against all odds, remains level-headed.

“No, it’s all right. I knocked out all the guards and servants, along with the duke and his mage.” Jaskier tilts Geralt’s head for a better angle to press the handkerchief down on the wound. “I may have given the two of them a little more than the recommended dose. The lady at the apothecary warned me about the risk of choking with much sleeping potion, urgh, like I give an ounce of fuck if they die a gruesome death or not. It’d be a favor to the town.”

The venom surprises even Jaskier himself, and Geralt lets out a meaningful hum.

“Rest assured, my dear. No one will be looking for us today.”

Up close, Jaskier can feel Geralt scrutinize him intently as if to burn a hole into his face. He meets the amber gaze, the dark pupils still a little blown wide from the shock, but there’s also something akin to relief flowing in those beautiful eyes.

He revels in the silence, observing Geralt in return for further signs of hurt, but finds none.

The witcher relents first, the tiniest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “So you drugged an entire castle?”

“Didn’t think I had it in me, huh?” Jaskier teases. “The White Wolf, saved by a humble bard and forever impressed by his wit.”

“Hmm.”

“Well, don’t beat yourself up, oh mighty witcher. I’m sure you only needed the rescue because those villains took advantage of your only weakness.” The bard adds his usual dramatic flair into the last two words.

Geralt blinks. Something shifts in his expression, his breathing picking up and his eyes darting everywhere. If the bard didn’t know better, he’d say the witcher is flustered, which makes it all the more confusing.

“Mocking me, are you?” Geralt drops his gaze and tries to shy away, but the bard holds him in place with the other hand. Under Jaskier’s palm, the frame of the witcher’s ear is heating up.

“How am I mocking you? Geralt, even you must admit witchers aren’t all-powerful beings.” Jaskier frowns. “They messed up your head. I know all your senses get muddled when you’re like this. Seriously, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“What are you talking about?” the witcher snaps his gaze back to Jaskier, a puzzled crease deep between his brows, which only makes the bard scoff with amusement.

“The head wound, of course. How did they get you? An ambush and a blow to the head, I’m assuming.” Jaskier explains. “How else did you get yourself into a dungeon and dimeritium cuffs? What, are you telling me you walk into their trap voluntarily?”

He rolls his eyes at the offhanded joke but the silence from the witcher leaves the mood heavier. Somehow, it doesn’t feel like a denial of what he just said. Geralt is staring at him with an inexplicable look on his face, and these looks are hard to come by these days. Jaskier prides himself in being the best on the continent at reading his witcher, and he has no inclination to break the streak.

“What happened then? Talk to me, Geralt.”

Jaskier removes the handkerchief a little. The gash has stopped bleeding, so he ties it around Geralt’s head carefully to keep the wound shielded, at least until they can wash it properly. His hands stay with Geralt afterwards, waiting for him to open up.

“I—” Geralt purses his lips before continuing, golden eyes meeting the bard in earnest. “They didn’t ambush me, Jask. I walked into that castle unarmed by choice.”

“What?” Jaskier’s jaw drops.

“It’s because—” the witcher scowls. “Because I thought…that they had you.”

It’s like a lightning strike, where their skin connects tingling all the way from the tips of Jaskier’s fingers to a warm pool of fuzziness in his stomach. The air is suddenly too hot so Jaskier decides to put more space between them.

“Oh.”

Geralt chases him ever so slightly before settling back with resignation, his eyes still bare and vulnerable, as if he just revealed the darkest secret when it is only the sweetest thing in a horrible, horrible way.

“A whisper of you being held hostage and suddenly I couldn’t think. Couldn’t remember to check the truth. Couldn’t waste another second.” Geralt hovers a hand near the bard’s face before retreating to his side. “You were right that they got me because of my one weakness, Jaskier. Just not the one you assumed.”

The pounding in Jaskier’s chest is jumping out of his throat. He’s sure he will die within the next minute if he doesn’t speak to ease this ache in his heart.

“Oh.”

He ends up saying dumbly.

“It was too late when I noticed the absence of you. Your voice, your heartbeat, your scent. Nothing. You weren’t in that castle or the cells. All I could hear was silence and all I could smell was blood.” Geralt draws a shuddering breath. “I hoped, when they kept me in the dark, that they were lying about ever having you. That you were nowhere near that damn place instead of—”

The witcher swallows, unable to finish the sentence.

“Instead of,” Jaskier adds for him, “they’d already killed me.”

The tension hangs between them. The bard sits back on the heels of his feet and finds himself at a loss for words for the very first time in his life.

Geralt might be the only person who can force Jaskier through so many firsts in his life. His first time writing a hit song, first time smashing into someone’s face with a lute, first time saving a witcher’s life, and perhaps, first time murdering two evil overlords obsessed with collecting witchers for experiments.

Hmm, it’s not like Jaskier regrets any of these.

Geralt reaches out again, tentative and patient like he’s approaching a spooked horse. This time, Jaskier takes pity and meets him halfway, his thumb rubbing small circles at the sword callouses that he adores so much.

“Say something,” Geralt pleads.

Jaskier swallows a lump in his throat and sniffles to ease the congestion in his nose, his vision blurring in desperation.

“It’s the most words you’ve said in one sitting, Geralt. You’ll have to allow me a moment to figure out what you are saying and, most importantly, not saying.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “It’s you, you know? There’s always something you are holding back and that is often the crux of it. I thought I got good at reading between the lines, but this is…overwhelming.”

With the enhanced healing kicking in, Geralt is looking much better by the minute. The blood dries and crusts over and his eyes almost shining in the daylight, or is it just the emotions within them? Jaskier can’t tell.

“Maybe I can help you. With the hidden words.” Geralt squeezes Jaskier’s fingers reassuringly. He tilts his head in the most endearing way. It happens to be that particular head tilt that Jaskier treasures with his life, the one that manages to always take his breath away.

“I love you, Jask.”

The warm pool of fuzziness in Jaskier’s stomach turns into a bottomless pit, and he’s falling.

And soaring.

“I love you.” Geralt smiles sadly. “In the dark of that cell, it became…ever so clear and so loud that I couldn’t deny it anymore. I love you, in spite of myself. Gods, I’ve loved you for so long.”

Geralt picks up Jaskier’s hand and places the barest touch of a kiss there, his lips chapped but oh so gentle. Jaskier lets out a soft gasp and the tears roll down uncontrollably. The next thing he knows, he’s buried deep in Geralt’s embrace. The sobs choke in his lungs like a dam has been broken.

“I—” Jaskier is amazed to find that their roles have reversed. The witcher has expressed everything but the bard becomes mute. So he takes up Geralt’s role gladly and replies with actions.

Jaskier’s lips are pressed everywhere he can reach: the soft, warm skin of Geralt’s neck, the sharp of his jaw, his cheek, the tip of his nose. He disregards the grime and dirt and kisses Geralt’s uninjured temple, the single most fragile part of a witcher’s body—barring their heart, so it seems. He tucks away a strand of white hair and kisses Geralt’s temple one more time, tasting the salty tang of tears.

When he pulls back, Geralt’s smile is blinding.

He hears Jaskier, even though—

“I still don’t know what to say,” Jaskier croaks, sniffling hard.

The bard rests his hands at the nape of Geralt’s neck and loses himself in the sunlit golden honey, his favorite color in the world and the most beautiful dream that’s ever come true.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Geralt wipes away the wetness on Jaskier’s face with the pad of his thumb. “Master Jaskier, poet, minstrel, professor… Stumped for words and forever impressed by a witcher’s love confession.”

He mimics Jaskier’s phrasing and the bard can’t help but chuckle despite the tears and snout, his hand swatting at Geralt’s shoulder. Jaskier knows he must look so absurd, laughing and crying all at once, but it’s the last thing in the world that matters.

Geralt loves him, and—

“You got hurt because of me.”

The remorse licks up, along with the urge to protect and to care. The sight of Geralt limp and bloody, bound by the wrists in a dark cell is something Jaskier never wants to relive again.

“I don’t care, Jask.”

“I care.”

“Then make it better.”

So he does. Geralt never wavers as Jaskier captures his lips and pours everything he cannot voice into the kiss, drawing a contented moan out of the witcher.

“Does it still hurt?” the bard whispers between one breath and the next.

“A little.”

Jaskier resumes his work and cards deft fingers through silver hair, careful not to nudge the handkerchief. His nails ghost over Geralt’s scalp and scratches gently until a purring sound rumbles deep in the witcher’s chest. The bard giggles proudly.

“Now?”

“Keep going.”

Geralt traps Jaskier between his strong arms devours him with passion, the heat of his body solid and calming.

Jaskier has never thought of himself as a protector, except at this moment with his witcher arching into his every touch and producing those heavenly sounds. The world is too bent on hurting Geralt, too eager to take and take and take from him.

A bard is not a fighter. Jaskier cannot stop monsters from tearing through armors or crossbows fired with ill intent.

But a bard is a lover. What Jaskier can do is heal, is piece Geralt back together with gentle words in the dark and soft lips on the thin skin at his temple.

“How about now?”

They are panting in tandem, the gold of Geralt’s eyes dreamy and out of this world.

“Still dizzy.”

“That’s from all the kissing, you oaf.”

But Geralt begs wordlessly with those wide, puppy-like eyes so openly, and Jaskier’s already non-existent resolve breaks into a million pieces. He kisses Geralt until the witcher melts into a puddle of purring mess, sun-warmed and pliant.

And he kisses Geralt more.

Again and again.

---

Thanks for the prompt. I kind of just rolled with the concept. The twist looks a bit obvious from the beginning, but feel free to tell me what you think. <3

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @dapandapod @artisanbaguette @birdsflyhome

Please tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[tinyyoungblood]

okay amazing here goes...so SOUR has been on repeat and your one-shot based on the album was super cute and just EVERYTHING 🥺 but also i was listening to 'traitor' the other day and the first line goes "brown guilty eyes and little white lies" and i just. the entire song puts me in the feels over a boyfriend i never had but anyway i was thinking what if...angst with peter parker!! maybe he's been more distant lately and lying about where he's been at nights or something? i'm not sure the world is your oyster!! thank you in advance💘 hehe

strangers with memories | peter parker

pairing: peter parker x reader

warnings: pure angst

a/n: “the world is your oyster” lol you’re so sweet <3 we don’t claim the peter parker in this fic because he knows better than this. enjoy x

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was nights like these that made you feel like everything was exactly how it was supposed to be. The window was opened, leaving outside noise from the street to breeze in and blend in with the lo-fi beats playing quietly from Peter’s laptop.

Your legs were tangled under a soft blanket as Peter showed you outfit pictures from his Pinterest board, asking for your opinion. It simply made sense. The world felt at peace.

“No, I don’t think you understand. Orange and teal look really good together, see.” Peter turned his phone around to show you his screen. You squinted at the brightness, but once your eyes adjusted, you burst out laughing.

“Sure, if you want look like Perry the Platypus. Get that away from me.” You shoved his hand away and Peter grinned. He swiped to another picture with the same colours combination, and you shrieked. “Not the brown beanie! Dr. Doofenshmirtz would have a field day with this.”

Peter chuckled. He rose to his feet and tossed his phone next to you on the mattress. “I’m going to the bathroom”, he declared with an air of casualness that made you crack a smile. He was halfway through the doorway when he popped his head back in and asked, “You want anything?”

“From the bathroom?” You looked up from your phone.

Peter shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Uh-huh.”

You suppressed your smile. “I’m good, thanks.” He gave you another shrug and left the bathroom, whistling a tune you didn’t know.

Not a second later, Peter’s phone gave off a subtle ping. It wasn’t your intention to look, but reflexes made you glance at it from the corner of your eyes. You regretted it instantly. Your shoulders tensed. It was just a text message—nothing scandalous, but the contact name made your stomach drop.

MJ.

Her name popped up on Peter’s phone screen more often than not. You really didn’t want to be bothered. You knew they were only friends, but you could already see the broad smile edging his face as he read the message. You hated where your thoughts had taken you.

Peter trusted you and you wanted to trust him as well, desperately. You demanded yourself to take the high ground. It still felt stupid and your chest caved in just at the thought of Peter grinning at his phone. He barely even answered your texts anymore.

You could already hear the white lies he was going to feed you. But you felt yourself wanting to keep the white lies. At least, that meant getting to keep Peter. All you could do was swallow the lump in your throat and take a deep breath. The world still blurred around you.

“May asked if you’re in the mood for Thai food.” Your gaze shot to Peter’s. He was leaning against the door frame, arms folded over his chest with the same calm expression as before. Don’t ruin this. Keep the peace.

You forced a smile. “Thanks, but I don’t like Thai food.”

Peter frowned at that. “Since when? You’ve always liked it.” He appeared almost affronted before realisation crossed his face. “Oh wait, my bad, MJ liked it. We actually just had Thai food together the other night with Ned.” A private smile curled around his lips at the memory.

“Sounds nice,” you replied weakly. It was all you could say.

Peter didn’t seem to mind. He pushed himself off and strolled over, picking up his phone to see the texts he had just received. He chuckled softly at whatever he had been sent and punched in a reply.

You simply sat there, fiddling with the blanket that suddenly felt too hot. Say something, the voice inside your head demanded. Be exciting. Don’t make him lose interest. Your hands curled into a fist. You felt ridiculous.

“So about Friday night,” you began awkwardly, feeling suddenly very out of place although there was nobody else in the room. Peter’s eyes were bright with delight as he typed away on his phone.

“Hm?” He said, and you had a feeling it wasn’t because he wanted to you to go on. He just wasn’t sure if you had spoken at all.

Your cheeks hurt from forcing a smile. “Are you going to pick me up or should we just meet there?”

Peter’s eyebrows creased. “Meet you where?”

“At the movies,” you said curtly. “We wanted to watch that movie, remember? It was your idea.” The bite in your tone finally made Peter look up. It was like watching a slow car crash.

“Was it?” Peter mused, and you nodded stiffly.

“Oh.”

From somewhere on the street, you heard people arguing. Their sharp voices cut into the room and drilled themselves into your chest. Don’t let this be us. That isn’t us. We’re better than that. You fixed your eyes on the curve of Peter’s neck, concentrating on his breathing to feel like he wasn’t drifting away. In reality, you knew that the ship was already leaving the harbour and there was nothing you could do.

“Sorry,” Peter finally said, lips pursed. “I kind of already made plans with MJ. Her uncle has this cool train collection that she wanted to show me. She told me about it at lunch today and I’m really excited. It’s pretty awesome.”

Your face dropped and he had the good sense to add, “But we can always catch the movie on Monday night if you want.”

“Why not on the weekend?” A part of you dreaded to hear the answer.

Peter didn’t hesitate as he waved you off. “Ned and I wanted to get started on that new Lego set I told you about.” You had no recollection of that. Peter’s eyes flickered to you before another text message came in, demanding his full attention. The sound made you feel nauseous. The ship was a dot now, fading into the horizon while you were still stranded.

“You can join us if you want,” Peter offered with eyes glued to his phone. “MJ is going to bring Thai food, I think.”

You didn’t bother to reply. You felt claustrophobic. Pushing yourself off his bed, you headed for the window. It was already opened by a crack, but you needed fresh air. It was almost overwhelming when you stepped over the window sill and let yourself out onto the fire escape. The stairs screeched but you didn’t care for the noise. What you needed was proof that there was more out there.

The railing was cold as you wrapped your hands around them. Each window across the street was alit in numerous colours. Silhouettes moved in those colours—people with their own lives and sorrows. The world continued to live.

You settled on one of the stairs and stared up at the night sky. No stars, nothing. You were really stuck at the harbour. Peter’s room was glowing in purple thanks to the LED strips you had set up together a few weeks ago. He had bought old vinyl records and you spent the entire night rating them until sunlight pooled in through the curtains. It all felt like a pipe dream now.

You didn’t know how long you’d been sitting outside by yourself. All you knew were the colour blocks of windows, shifting in and out of blurriness. You had been too busy watching the ship sail away that you only now realised how much you had starved yourself. One good night wasn’t going to change that. Your mind was just really good at leaving out the bad parts.

“Here you are.” Peter’s voice caught you off guard. You turned away, wiping your tearstained cheeks hastily as he watched you with knitted brows. “I just came to tell you that I invited Ned and MJ over. I hope that’s fine.”

When you didn’t reply, Peter stepped out and sat on the window sill. “You okay?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Do I look okay to you?”

“Well,” he said, “You’ve been acting weird all week, so…I’m not sure”

“I have been acting weird?” You echoed.

Peter hesitated but lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. “Yeah, but you’re always smiling, so I just assume you’re all right.”

“You can’t be serious,” you said bitterly, tucking your hands under your thighs to stop them from shaking. “Just look what we’ve become. You can’t even tell anymore if I’m putting on a fake smile.”

“What are you talking about?” He cocked his head to the side.

“Oh, you know.” You waved your hand at nothing. “Air pollution, climate change, everything and nothing these days. But you wouldn’t know, would you.”

“Y/N,” Peter said with an edge to his voice. “Are you going to tell me what this is really about?”

You hadn’t realised that you had started pacing until his question made you halt and whip around. There was acid in your tone as you snapped, “Don’t you miss me at all?”

“What?” Peter looked stumped. “We see each other every day at school. You’re literally standing in front of me right now.”

You scoffed and sat back down on the stairs. “Love really does make people blind,” you murmured and stared at the sky. Maybe it was going to rain.

Peter exhaled sharply and knelt before you, lowering your chin to look you in the eye. He thought he could find an answer in them, but you knew that if he’d been blind to it all this time, he wasn’t going to see it now. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he admitted, and your chest ached.

You wrapped your arms around yourself. “I want you. That’s all I wanted.”

“Wanted? You have me.” Peter pressed his lips together. “You have me right now, Y/N.”

“I don’t.” You couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “MJ has you. She’s had you for a while now, and I’m just here watching you both from afar.”

Peter opened his mouth, most likely wanting to deny it, but no sounds came out. He simply stared and stared and stared. Your heart was racing. There was no way back, so you went on, “I don’t care if you’re just friends. I really don’t care, because it hurts just as much knowing that I still let you treat me like that. I miss you and you’re sitting right in front of me. And you know what the worst part is?”

Memories flooded your mind, bricking you like thorns. You devoured them, hungrily, because you were used to living on crumbs. Peter holding you in his arms. Peter looking tenderly after your wounds and kissing your tears. Peter turning sorrow into bliss until you were drunk on laughter and the sky was dusted in stars.

A sad smile hung to your lips. “I still think the world of you. All those nights when I had prayed for someone like you. Someone who could be my safe person and I could be theirs—I thought I had that with you.”

“You do,” Peter hissed, and at once you wondered where he found the strength to believe his own lies. He sighed. “I promise you, you did. It’s just…” Your throat went dry as he bit his tongue. “It’s not something you can control, okay? Maybe you’re just not my only safe person anymore. It’s…it’s not a big deal.” Peter’s gaze dropped as your breath caught.

You were glad you were sitting. There was no doubt that your knees would’ve given out otherwise. His confession felt like a punch to the gut. That small, pathetic voice inside your head screamed and trashed, denying everything he’d just said. A part of you was always so hopeful—Peter used to love that about you.

Remember, it tried to reason, he promised he would never hurt you. Remember how it felt to have his arms around you. It couldn’t have been a lie. None of it could’ve been a lie. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“You’re not actually sorry,” you heard yourself say. “You’re just saying that to feel good about yourself. If you were sorry, you would’ve never made all those promises—” You didn’t have it in yourself to continue. No words would’ve done you justice anyway. “If you’re just going to keep hurting me, then leave me alone.”

Something dark flared in his brown eyes. “Leave you alone?” asked Peter incredulously. “This is stupid and you know it. All of this, just because I’m friends with MJ. Don’t you think it’s a little ridiculous? We’re just friends. There’s no reason for you to get paranoid.”

“I’m being paranoid now?” Your eyes narrowed.

“That’s what I would call it, yes.”

“Then tell me this.” You jumped to your feet. “Last week, when Mr. Harrison took points off my assignment because I supposedly handed it in too late, why didn’t you speak up for me? You were there, you knew I handed it in time. All I needed was for you to tell him the truth, but you didn’t say a damn thing. Now I’m failing that class, and you know why this is the first time you’re hearing about this?”

Peter remained silent, but his eyes flickered, and the crease between his brows was evidence enough.

“Because you were too distracted giggling with MJ in the back. You didn’t even notice when I stormed out of that room, so don’t lie to yourself, Peter. You haven’t been by my side in a while now.”

You shook your head when Peter averted his gaze. Of course, he had nothing to say. Both of you knew it wasn’t just about that class. It was about the missed calls, the empty words, and all the times he had stood you up and let you down. At least he respected you enough to not deny it. No more white lies.

“See, this is the thing,” you began, swinging your leg over the window sill to step inside the room. You faced Peter and waited until his gaze drifted to yours. “You gave me your word and I was stupid enough to believe you. I trusted you. It was supposed to be you and me against the world, but you sat back and watched it beat me down because you were too busy falling in love with somebody else.”

Peter’s expression shifted and you turned your back to him. Seeing his frustration replaced by realisation was something you knew you couldn’t stomach.

So you made to leave. It was only when you were halfway through the room that you recognised the feeling simmering in your gut as something a bit different than resentment. You looked back over your shoulder, eyebrows lowered, and struggled to find your voice.

“Peter?”

It was barely a whisper, but you knew he heard you. He tore his gaze from the floor and looked at you. Wild storms were trapped in his eyes, an ocean rising. It was devasting to look at.

But it was then that you realised, that although Peter had never cheated on you, his brown guilty eyes still made him a traitor. You took a deep breath.

“Just don’t treat her how you treated me,” was all you said. And with that, you were gone.

* * *

i’d really appreciate if you left some feedback since i barely ever write angst and want to know what you think:) stay hydrated guys

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

can you do a cheryl blossom x fem reader with 42 of Taylor swift lover? I love them all so much!!

hey! thank you my love!!!! i hope you like this!! sorry it’s posted a bit late, i went to york yesterday and haven’t had the energy/time to write (or do anything) and then i ended up going shopping today! but you’re the last of my song lyric requests so i really hope it lives up to your expectations! again, thank you!

lyrics: have i known you 20 seconds or 20 years? (lover: taylor swift)

“Do you ever wonder, if we had met now would we be friends?” You ask, your voice soft. Her lips pull into a pout and her eyebrows furrow as she thinks about your question, and as she looks at your wide y/e/c eyes, she so desperately wants to say yes, but deep down both of you know that, no, you wouldn’t be friends.

The bright, bold and scary Cheryl Blossom would never have even looked twice at shy, timid, unthreatening Y/n. The two would pass each other in the hallway, and Cheryl hates to even think about it, but she would probably point out that fact that she’s timid, even use it to make fun of her.

Which is why she’s so glad the two of you had no choice but to become friends, your parents were close before they were even thinking of having kids, and so by the time you, Cheryl and Jason came along, you already had a lifelong friendship guaranteed, even before you took your first breath.

“I don’t think so.” She replies and she sounds sad, guilty even. You turn on your side, the duvet and pillows twist under your body and you pull a particularly uncomfortable one out from under your arm, it narrowly avoids your face and she suppresses a smile as she watches you look at the flowery pillow in offence before throwing it across the room.

“Neither do I.” You shrug and poke a finger into her shoulder. It moves her slightly and she rolls her eyes at you before finally breaking and letting herself smile. “But, I’m glad we are.” You add and turn on your back again.

“Me too.” She says, her voice a whisper as she stares at your lips for a few seconds too long.

“What?” You ask and glance at her. “Do I have something on my face again? I wish you would just tell me instead of letting me just walk around like I don’t know how to wash my face.” You huff and dramatically stand before trudging over to the mirror.

She watches you, predicting your next moves. You look left, then right and then move closer to the mirror, your eyebrows furrowing and your nose scrunching as you try to find the invisible bit of dirt. And then eventually you give up and turn around to face Cheryl, who has to pretend like she hasn’t been staring all this time.

“There’s nothing even there.” You huff and make your way back to your bed, this time you climb under the covers, the autumn chill making goosebumps appear on your skin. Cheryl follows your lead, pulling the covers back and hesitantly lying beside you.

“Sorry, must have been a shadow.” She says. She’s lying beside you, but you can tell from her tone that she’s somewhere else. There’s so many places that Cheryl could be, most of them dark, and the thought of her being trapped somewhere, even if it is in her own mind, is enough to make your heart ache.

“Sometimes I wonder, have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years? Do you ever feel the same?” You say, suddenly very serious and she frowns before looking at you.

She thinks about it for a few seconds, and realizes yes. Sometimes she looks at you, and it feels like she’s only just met you, because when you enter a room her heartbeat picks up like its the first time she saw you as more than a friend and she feels the entire room just lighting up. And others, she finds it scary how much of her true self she can really be around you. She doesn’t have to pretend, she doesn’t have to pick out the parts of her personality that she doesn’t want the world to see. She can just be herself, her messy, lost self, and she feels completely normal when doing so.

“Yeah.” She nods. You smile, and let your fingers gently brush against hers. Your breath hitches in anticipation, crossing a line that’s never actually been crossed but has come close to dozens of times. Her breath hitches when she feels your fingers, and slowly she lets you hold her, a lump in her throat and a knot in her stomach, but unlike any other times she’s felt like this, this one is a good feeling.

It’s a feeling she wants to hold on to, and so she holds you in return, and hopes that you never stop.

riverdale masterlist

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[mrskurono]

Mommy || Choso + Yuji

Tag(s): Mommy Series Continued; tw:incest, tw:age gap (Yuji), mommy kink, nursing, mmf threesome, fingering, squirting/pissing, double vaginal penetration, frotting, breeding kink (kinda), dumbification, dirty talk, lewd imagery below cut

Character(s): Choso (jjk), Yuuji Itadori (jjk)

Choso loved his mother. With everything in him, he loved her.

As the oldest son was always supposed to do. He was her knight in shining armor and he wore that badge proudly. Ready to help mommy whenever she needed it. Keeping that smile on his mother’s face was more important than anything else in his world. Because his world was her.

Rightfully so the oldest taught the youngest the same thing. Yuji was diligent to his big brother. Soaking in his wisdom and making sure to always watch him carefully to know exactly what to do to keep their mom smiling. He saw it too. What Choso saw. Their mother’s smile was his world and Yuji would do anything to keep it on her face.

The exception? Only when her smile was replaced by the fucked out expression on her face.

“Ani-chan.” Yuji’s face red from ear to ear. He had been since his older brother told to hold still for their mother, “It feels-”

“It feels good I know,” Choso nodded, enthralled by the sight of his little brother’s cock disappearing into their mother’s mouth, “Otouto-chan don’t forget we’re here to make mommy feel good too.”

Breath as shaky as his resolve, Yuji finally nodded. Regretful when his cock was pulled from his mother’s warm mouth, “Mommy-”

“-let us make you feel good too-” Unable to not take the lead, Choso brushed his brother aside. Needing to catch his mother’s lips on his own. Not even caring if the taste of Yuji’s cock lingered. He craved her lips every hour of every day. When she would indulge is when he would take the most advantage of it.

Pushing her down. Both boys were on her in an instant. Yuji replacing his older brother’s lips on hers. And Choso running kisses all down her neck and shoulder. More experienced in the curves of his mother’s body, Choso intended to teach Yuji just as much about this as he did everything else in the house. Mom’s happiness was always number one.

“Touch her breasts Otouto-chan.” Choso instructed softly. One of his broad hands already kneading away at the wonderful mounds, “She likes it a lot if you pinch her nipples too.”

“Like this Ani-chan?” Yuji mimicked what he saw him do. Hands nearly as big as Choso’s. Still though the little brother wasn’t about ready to supersede his big brother.

No need for his brother’s approval. It was when their mother’s legs squeezed and she rubbed them together. Moaning as both boys touched her breasts without hesitation. Yuji was slowly understanding what Choso meant by knowing her body.

They leaned forward. Together taking her nipples in their watering mouths. Nursing at her breast like they were infants again. Yuji’s eyes closed in the heat of the moment. But Choso looked up at her with adoring eyes. No need for her to even see him. It was enough for Choso to watch his beloved mother drowned in pleasure.

To stay at her breast was selfish though. And this time was for her and her alone. Choso reluctantly pulled his lips off her breast. Nudging Yuji to do the same. He pouted but complied. Knowing his big brother knew best.

“There’s one place,” Choso smiled sweetly, “That mommy likes touched more than anything else. Would you like me to show you that?” Not even up for debate as Yuji nodded eagerly, “Good.”

Dragging his palms down her navel. Choso watched his mother react perfectly to his touch. Bucking her hips up under him until his palm came to rest on her groin. Covering all of her slightly untrimmed mound with just one big hand. Both boys got between her legs and Yuji licked his lips expectantly waiting for Choso to move his hand.

Of course when Choso pulled his hand away. It wasn’t without dragging his fingers down through his mother’s glistening folds. The tips of his fingers grazing her sensitive clit enough to make her grab at the sheets under them with a white knuckled grip.

“See.” Choso presented his went fingers to his little brother, “She likes it so much when we spoil her body that mommy makes this delicious juice for us to lick.”

“I can lick it?” Yuji’s eye lit up at the idea of it. He then got Choso pressing his fingers to his lips for a taste. No hesitation to open wide and suck their mother’s wetness from his brother’s fingers.

When Choso finally drew his fingers from his little brother’s mouth. He  noticed how wet Yuji had left them. Knowing how much mother loved to have herself stretched, he felt the honor of using Yuji’s spit this first time was well earned, “Watch.” Choso instructed. Pressing his fingers back into her core.

Yuji as hard as he could be. Noticing Choso was too. But they would wait their turn because Yuji couldn’t take his eyes off the way his brother’s first two fingers sunk knuckles deep into their mother’s cunt.

“She took them both!” Yuji leaned forward enthralled. Choso’s fingers now gone inside her and the only sign of their movement was her bucking and moaning above. Each swipe and twitch of her eldest baby’s fingers inside her caused spasms throughout her body.

Choso desperately wanted to be closer. Back in the warmth of his mother’s most private parts. His cock twitching with anticipation at the thought of his cock filling his mommy’s pretty cunny with his seed as he always did. Still though he had to wait.

“Put your mouth here,” Choso pointed at the budding clit peaking out of the woman’s folds, “Mom loves to have it sucked. It’s supposed to feel even better than your penis in her mouth.”

Little Yuji’s eyes wide he inhaled the musky scent of the juices being stirred up by his big brother’s fingers, “What is it...?”

“That’s her clit,” Choso smiled sweetly, slipping another finger in to the two already in her, “Suck mommy’s clit and she’ll give you something.”

At the idea of a reward, Yuji was eager and quick to latch his lips onto the bud. Slick and slimy in his mouth from the gush of juices. He wasted no time swiping his tongue around and slipping just the tip of his tongue up under the hood of her clit to see what exactly it was Choso said was a reward.

Neither hand to wait long. Between Choso’s three fingers stuffed in their mommy’s cunt. And Yuji’s nursing of her clit. He got to see first hand the body wracking orgasm take over their normally quiet mom. To really drive it home Choso pressed his free hand hard onto her stomach and Yuji’s eyes popped open when he saw the golden spray gush over his brother’s hand.

Thick and muskier than before. When she finally stopped squirming under them. And Yuji took his lips from her swollen clit. He was even more excited, “What was that??”

“Mommy’s specials pee,” Choso still didn’t remove his fingers after his mother’s gift to him, “It means we made her feel good. Here-” He moved over a bit, “Put your fingers in here with me to see what her insides feel like heaven.”

“Won’t it be too much?” Yuji asked, already seeing her twitch around Choso’s three fingers.

“We have to stretch her out so she feels good when we show her how much we love her.” He insisted.

Under his big brother’s directions. Yuji tentatively put a finger against the slick pooling in his brother’s palm. Gathering enough of it that when he pushed in alongside Choso’s fingers. Yuji was met with only a little resistance. Instantly getting the gratification of his mother’s warm wet cunt walls swallowing him up. It was obvious on his face as Choso chuckled at him.

“We came outta here??” Yuji said almost not believing something so wonderful could push a human out of it.

“We did and it feels so much better being back inside too.” Choso mused with a soft smile. His eyes locked in on the sight of four fingers violating his mother’s cunt. Encouraging Yuji to add another after he saw her creaming around their combined effort.

The lovely sight of both of them massaging her entrance until it was gaping. Like her walls wanted to suck their fingers back in. All Choso could focus on was the aching strain in his cock as he longed to be back inside her. It wasn’t until Yuji had another three of his fingers paired with Choso’s three did he think she was finally stretched enough.

“Since this is your first time making mommy happy,” Choso slowly drew his fingers from his mother’s now gaping cunt, “You can be behind her and follow my lead Otouto-chan.”  

“Behind here?” Yuji still a little dazed from just the way his fingers felt inside his mother, “Where do you go?”

Choso smiled and leaned down to kiss his mother’s navel, “I go under her, as the oldest I’ll always be the one to support mother.”

Excited by what this meant. Yuji was little help in getting into position. What he did help with was when their mother was on top of Choso. Able to hook his hands in her hips the strong little brother hefted his mother up so she was on her knees. Choso praised him for his gentle touch. Reminding him that mother was to be cherished and always shown a soft loving touch.

“Do we take turns? Or...?” Yuji was unsure as he looked at his mother’s twitching cunt spasm around nothing. The way he wanted to bury his cock in her was unreal. So warm and soft as he thought about what he felt around his fingers just now. Desiring nothing more than to be back where Choso said he came from.

Choso, who didn’t get his mother on top of him without kissing her tenderly as he cupped her face. Ended the kiss only after tucking his wonderful mother’s face against his chest and reaching down to gently grab her ass, “We can together. She would very much love that. Having both her boys back where we came from.”

Under close instructions, Yuji sat back on his haunches, cock in hand. Pumping himself slowly as he watched his big brother. Choso very gently swiped his cock up his mother’s slit. Wetting his tip with the slick glistening off her lips. Earning but a meager moan when the tip of his cock grazed her clit. Yuji watched enthralled as that simple motion made her entrance twitch like there was something in her. Only to be followed by Choso pressing the tip of his cock against her entrance.

Slowly and carefully he urged their mother onto his entire length. Just as his fingers had disappeared. Now every inch of his cock was hidden within the twitching walls of their mother’s cunt.

“How....does it feel?” Yuji leaned forward, feverishly squeezing his cock trying not to cum yet as precum oozed from his swollen tip.

An audible sigh from Choso. Like his entire body relaxed. With long arms coming up around to hug their mother close to his body, Choso pressed his lips to the side of her head just to take a deep breath. Filling his senses completely. Sweet floral scent of her hair. Warmth of her skin. And the way her squishy walls sucked more of his cock in. Like her body wanted more of him. Choso hated this was all he could give her but still reveled in every second of it.

“Like heaven,” Choso murmured. Soaking in the pleasure just for a moment before returning to his big brother duties.

As he had said, Choso intended to guide Yuji through this just as he started. Letting go of the hug held on the woman. He thrusted up a little to get her to stay on her knees a little more. Not without the guttural moan that left her lips that made both boy’s breathing catch in their chests. Nothing was as beautiful as that lewd noise. Even Choso hearing it a thousand times couldn’t stop loving it. He had a duty though and needed to focus.

“Here,” Choso’s hands returned to their mother’s ass, “Just like your fingers, press yourself into her slowly so mommy can adjust.”

Finally given the signal he was waiting for. Yuji lined his hips up with his mother’s. Smearing his precum along her slit and the underside of Choso’s cock as much as he was wetting his cock down with her juices. When he thought he was sufficently wet enough, Yuji pressed the tip of his cock against his brother’s larger one and the tightness of his mother’s entrance.

“It’s too tight...” Yuji met some resistance and was unsure how far to go.

“Keep pushing,” Choso encouraged, “I’ve got her so everything is alright.”

With his approval Yuji pressed much harder into his mother’s core until there was almost a pop. And suddenly his tip was swallowed up with the warm of her core swallowing him and the surprisingly pleasant sensation of his brother’s cock rubbing against his own.

Reminded not to wait too long. Choso told Yuji to press all the way into her so she could adjust properly. So his little brother did just that. Stuffing his cock inside his mother’s overstretched pussy. Tighter than anything he felt with his fingers. Yuji for a split second wondered if he was loosing his mind with how tight and warm his mother’s most intimate part felt around his cock. Taking a moment even as he put his hands on her hips and just bowed his head trying to compose himself.

“T-Tight-” Was all Yuji could manage.

A deep hum in his chest while Choso nodded in agreement. He knew how good the walls of his mother’s cunt felt. What he hadn’t bargained for was how amazing his little brother’s cock would feel grinding against his own inside those pleasurable walls.

“Move slowly-” Choso groaned, unable to finish his entire sentence before Yuji pulled back to thrust his cock in along side his brothers.

Their mother a quivering mess under them as her juices leaked around both her boy’s cocks.

“I’m in mom’s pretty cunt-” Yuji hardly could get half a stroke in from the tightness, “Back where I came from- Fuck- ani-chan you were so right.” He swallowed hard as the sensation of their mother’s walls fluttered around him in the unknown sensation of one of her orgasms, “I wanna fuck mommy’s pretty little cunt all the time. I wanna go back from where I came ani-chan.”

Smiling to himself, Choso had wrapped his arms around his mother once more. Introducing his own in timed strokes with his little brother’s. When Yuji would pull out is when Choso would push in. Leaving no second their mother wasn’t full of her boy’s cocks going in and out of her. And the grinding of their own dicks against one another was a sensation totally new and wonderful.

The way Yuji’s balls slapped against the underside of Choso’s cock with each rut into their mother. And Choso’s thick cock head grinding against Yuji’s as his big brother thrusted back into her. It was so much and so wonderful that both boys were guilty of forgetting their mother’s pleasure in leu of their own.

That was ok though. With both boy’s inside her. Pressing places she never knew she had and stretching her out more than anything. Their mother was a bundle of nerves cumming over and over again on her boys cocks. Soon becoming numb as they fucked another orgasm out of her. Dumb and drooling on top of her eldest. It really was Choso’s job to hold his mother up until both of them gave her their gifts.

"Ani-can-" Yuji's voice cracked. Giving it away he wasn't going to last much longer, "Ani-chan I'm gonna-"

"Give mommy all of it-" Choso grunted. Forceful thrusts up into their mother's cunt to push her back onto his brother's cock. Just as his own orgasm was coming up quicker than he anticipated, "Give mommy your all, love her with all of you."

A pleasurable cry, Yuji's toes curling and hips rutting into their mother, he slammed his cock as deep as possible into her. Giving into the warmth of his mother's cunt as Yuji's cum spilled inside her. Seeping into her deepest parts. Spilling onto his big brother's cock as well. Yuji's moans filled the room as his twitching orgasm was drawn out by his cock being milked dry by her cunt.

Just as the tightest did him in. When Yuji's cum spread into her deepest parts. And Choso could feel then slippery wetness of his brother's seed coating his cock along with his mother's juices as well. It was too much even for the oldest brother.

Choso pressed his lips against his mother's. Disregarding her hardly aware enough to kiss him back. It didn't matter Choso groaned against her lips and jolted his hips hard up against his mother's. Washed over once and for all with the familiar warmth taking over him. Cock spasming in his mother's warmth and against his brother's. Choso added his load to the mixture all at once.

Finally when both boys came down from their high. It was Yuji to slip out of his mother. A small flood of cum following him. But not all of it as Choso's cock remained buried inside her. And where it would stay as Choso eased his mother's weary body down against his own. Holding her close as he wasn't sure if she'd passed out or not finally. He kissed the side of her head and stroked her hair gently as he savored the feeling of his and Yuji's cum still inside their mother. A gift so intimate he wished never to have to pull out.

"We get to do that with mom again?" Yuji asked with a twinge of excitement even if he was laid out next to them catching his breath.

Smiling to himself. Hearing how enthusiastic his little brother was. Choso knew if the day ever came he needed someone else to watch after their mother. That Yuji would indeed do him proud.

"Of course we do," Choso muttered into his mother's hair. Holding her to him as his cock softened inside her, "It's our duty as her sons to love her with everything we have. Always."