#and the shadow even calls them friends

[puppetmaster13u]

Who wants a prompt entirely in memes.

[starry-bi-sky]

I am absolutely loving your Danyal Al Ghul au. While I have a soft spot for the whole plotline of Danny becoming his canon personality almost right after breaking away from the LOA all because of Jazz, I'm just as much for your take in which he goes through the same character development as Damian.

Now I'm curious. You already tackled his relationship with Dani, will you eventually take a stab at when he, Sam, and Tucker meet Gregor? Given that it's one of my hated episodes as I couldn't stand Sam's infuriatingly hypocritical attitude to Danny's suspicions of him, I'd kill to see your spin on it.

Aw, thank you! Danyal Al Ghul aus are what got me into DPDC first, so I have a major soft spot for them. That being said, uh, its exactly that soft spot that causes me to have Many Opinions about the trope you just mentioned. Like the trope is all fine and dandy, i don't blindly hate it, my main issue with it is that most aus i've seen treat his backstory as an ex-assassin more like a pretty cosmetic accessory rather than something that actually should have had an impact on him. Especially if he remembers being in the league.

Like i cannot stress enough the fact that being in an ecofascist assassin cult (regardless of his standing in it) should've left him, in some way or another, screwed up morally and psychologically because that's just how development works. Nature vs. Nurture is like a game of tug-o-war that never ends, where they are constantly fighting against each other and one side usually has the upper hand or greater influence. Children model the behaviors of the adults around them (ex: bobo the clown doll experiment), and what impacts them in childhood can stick with them permanently.

Like how my psychology professor put it: a baby's brain is like wet cement; if you slap your hand on it, it leaves an imprint, and the cement dries that way. The same rings true for small children.

I could go on, but I frankly have so many thoughts on that alone that I would end up completely derailing from the second half of your ask, and I don't want to be more critical than I already have. Especially since you just mentioned you have a soft spot for the trope.

[Okay, hold onto your hats because this is long. Naturally lmao.]

Gregor! Man, I'll admit I last watched the show back in middle school on a dodgy illegal website (it had surprisingly good audio and visual graphics, and full episodes. But really annoying porn ads.) but I only made it to like season 1 before my hyperfixation faded and I lost interest. So I never actually saw the Gregor episode.

But... it is relatively easy to find free websites that stream Danny Phantom :), so finding the episode took me like. Thirty seconds. Plus the Tv.Tropes recap page because my damn earbuds just died and im out in public as of rn.

I'm not sure if I'll write something for the gregor episode like I did with Dani, since Dani's a bit of a special case in that she's a clone and tends to be a reoccurring presence in DPDC, and I thought the new dynamic with Danyal would be interesting.

Plus, I'm not a big amethyst ocean shipper for the pure reason of I'm just not all that interested in it; its kinda bland to me. I'll admit I've entertained the thought in this au due to the whole balcony scene i wrote, but I would've entertained the thought anyways if it was Tucker in that position instead. Big multishipper, me.

But, if I had to make it official? Danyal is not interested romantically in Sam when the Gregor episode happens, regardless of his relationship with Valerie. Who, speaking of I'm trying to think about how that would go, and I'm torn between including him almost-dating Valerie or not.

Because on one hand it helps point out Sam's hypocrisy (and i love her but i am always happy to point out her flaws and address them in au) in this episode in terms of Danny spying on them, but on the other hand I'll want to include a lot of set up in order to make Gray Ghost work in this au and wow will that take a while.

Especially with the Flirting with Disaster episode because it happens due to Technus' meddling, and Danny is, well, the son of the Batman? A trained assassin? An ex-assassin nonetheless, but still an assassin? A prodigy child in this au? He might not have needed to use most of his skills in the last few years, but like... there's just a bunch of 'what if' and 'well technically...' and 'would he? he could, but would he?' things that is getting in the way of my thought process and making my head spin.

.

Mmm. Okay. Flirting with Disaster occurs relatively the same as canon with a few exceptions; like Danyal noticing the strange coincidences, and he might take the idea into proper consideration because Sam has a point it is strange, especially out of nowhere.

However,,, he really enjoys Valerie's company, and he does really like her. He's been adjusting to civilian life for the last four years and while he's made a lot of progress, he's still. an ex-assassin child living like a wolf amongst sheep. This is normal, typical teenager stuff, and usually his friends like to encourage him doing normal teenager stuff.

So he's stubbornly holding out on the thought that this is normal, that ghost stuff isn't interfering here. He's a little hurt that his friends are discouraging this, he's not bothered by the fact that Valerie is a ghost hunter and he a ghost -- his mother is an assassin, and his father is Batman, and they still had a relationship. (Granted, he's not gonna tell them that)

If anything, being diametrically opposed to each other but still being in love is part of the family! Granted, usually both parties are aware of said opposition to each other, but he'll make a special exception this time around.

(And man now that i'm thinking about gray ghost, im now thinking about various like. scenes i could write between the two of them. maybe in a reblog.)

Anyways uhhh things relatively go the same as canon. Yeah. I think Sam still has a crush on Danny and still spies out of jealousy with Tucker.

.

Now, the Gregor episode! With that out of the way; the TVTropes recap for this episode isn't the best because it doesn't go into detail about the entire episode like it does with Flirting With Disaster and Shades of Gray.

(which i looked at earlier because I made a section of this post talking briefly about what changes I'd make to the Shades of Gray episode to help set up Gray Ghost, but ended up deleting because it was kinda irrelevant for the matter at hand.)

So I'm taking in bits of the episode clips at a time, I'll try not to get too nitpicky about how each scene goes because then it's gonna take me a longer time to write this.

But! First thing's first; since Danny is not romantically interested in Sam, he is also not jealous of Gregor. He is however, a bit eyebrow-raisey at him in their first introduction, but that's because Gregor is coming off as obnoxious.

Danny thinks he's kinda annoying, and it doesn't take a genius to see that Gregor is trying to impress Sam. But since they've only known him for five minutes he takes the good faith assumption and assumes that Gregor is genuinely trying to show interest in Sam's interests too because he likes her, so he keeps mum. The fake hungarian accent is weird, but it's overall harmless, so he doesn't point it out.

He does do the spying thing when he starts suspecting that Gregor might be working for the GIW. The episode only has this happen twice, but for the au this happens a handful of more times over the course of the week, with Danyal's suspicion steadily rising more and more each time.

Hah, when he brings up wanting to spy on Sam and Gregor because of this reason, Tucker still does his "woah! you wanna spy on Sam?" thing.

Danny immediately turns to him, completely unimpressed, and crosses his arms. "Tucker," he says, deadpan, "you and Sam spied on me and Valerie."

He uses a combination of his ghost powers and his regular stealth ability to spy on them. He's hiding in a tree when they're skipping rocks, close enough that he can use his powers to hear them talk but far enough away that he has a good view of their surroundings.

He's invisible in the cinema, but doesn't accidentally get in front of the projector. He checks the inside of the room for the GIW, and then waits outside the actual room itself, keeping an eye on the area and occasionally flying in to watch the movie out of boredom. It reminds him of being back on a recon mission with the League, but it doesn't end with him orchestrating someone's death.

Then when they're at the mall he stays in human form, blending in with the crowd. He runs into the GIW there, but realizes that they're not there because of Gregor; they're just shopping. They didn't show up at either of the last two locations, and he follows them to make sure they're not also trying to blend in. But they're literally just there for shopping.

Danny is rather pleased with this turnout; so far Gregor isn't a spy, he's just annoying. The next day at lunch he asks Sam how her date with Gregor went, and that's how she figures out he spied on them, because well, she didn't tell him that.

"Have you been spying on me?"

Danny messes with his food a little bit, and Tucker is sinking into his seat with embarrassment. He frowns, "Only last night. Those incompetent government dodos--"

His lip curls up; he gets all 'Shakespeare-y' (as Sam and Tucker put it) when he's insulting someone, "--kept appearing whenever Gregor did. I followed you and him last night to make sure he wasn't a spy."

A roundabout way of saying, "I was worried".

Sam is, as canon, furious. Danny understands why, he knows generally speaking that people don't like being spied on. But he's confused on just how angry she is, and is a little irritated by it.

"Why would you do that!" She exclaims, "That's way out of line, Danny."

"How? You spied on me when I was going on dates with Valerie." He narrows his eyes, and points his fork at her, "I'm not blind, I noticed."

"That's different, we told you why we were suspicious. And we don't have ghost powers like you do."

"I don't need ghost powers to sneak around, Sam, you've seen this firsthand. And I just told you why I followed you, I thought he was working with the guys in white--"

"So you think someone can only be interested in me if they're after you?" (this is a paraphrased quote, folks ;D)

"No! If that was the case I would have voiced my concern the moment I thought it. I don't get why you're so angry, you spied too."

Iiits.... a mess. Sam storms off with Gregor, Tucker tags along because okay, yeah, maybe Gregor isn't with the GIW, or maybe last night was a fluke. Either way he ends up tagging along. Danny overhears that conversation between the GIW and Mr. Lancer, and maybe he's right, maybe he's wrong; but something is up.

I've gotten to that scene in the locker room where Gregor tells Danny that he knows he doesn't like him, and I've paused at Danny's reply to say this: Danyal doesn't even bother trying to deny it.

"I know you do not like me."

"You're right; I don't."

"Ah, let me finish. I know you do not like me because you want to protect your friend, Sam, and I respect that."

"...That's correct."

"Good! Because I am going to ask her out."

"I had a feeling you'd say that," he stands up, claps his hand tight on Gregor's shoulder, and leans close to him with a threatening smile, "so you understand me when i say; if you break my best friend's heart, you're as good as dead, right?"

"Ah,, yes. I am so glad we got that cleared out of the way, and now I hope after we can.. how you Americans put it, hang out?"

In the episode he hugs Danny and gives him a la bise (which is that french greeting where you kiss someone on the cheek two or more times) after they end their conversation. But here, when he goes to do that to Danyal, Danny leans away, points an accusatory finger at him, and says; "Absolutely not; we are not close."

The next scene after that is like, end of day. Sam, Tucker, and Gregor walking away. Sam looks over her shoulder to glare at Danny, then gets forlorn. Tucker looks back and just looks forlorn.

(When did I start narrating each scene?? Eh, I'm writing this in brief spurts of time throughout the day. Don't fix what's not broke)

After that there's this whole scene with the two GIW agents that have been chasing Phantom all episode. They're there because they have Tucker's PDA that Skulker took, and it's got the information of their purple backed gorilla assignment on it. They've been going around seeing who Tucker associates with in hopes of catching Phantom.

Uhh ahaha and that is where this gets a little interesting imo, and also allows me to mention that im retconning Danyal's (already) redesigned ghost form. Which I've wanted to retcon even before this moment bc it was just too busy. I'll get to that in a moment.

The GIW suspect Gregor for being the Phantom because of his white hair and green eyes, which is all fine and dandy until you remember: Danyal (and by extension Phantom) has that very noticeable, rather identifiable facial scar that goes across the middle of his fucking face. The GIW could easily suspect that Phantom hides his scar with makeup if he's in disguise, but if they meet a kid with a seemingly identical facial scar and similar disposition? Hoo boy.

Solution? I've got two: Gregor is canonically a kid from Michigan who faked everything to impress Sam. Considering he knows she's gothic and knows that she's ultra-recyclo vegetarian? He probably watched her from afar or got information on her somehow. His hair is dyed, his eyes might just naturally be green, but if he notices that she's got a crush on either Danyal or Phantom? A little sfx makeup could help him recreate a similar looking scar.

My second solution that's gonna happen anyways bc its that suit redesign; Danyal does hide his face as Phantom. Ghosts are emotional creatures and its a popular headcanon that their interests, ambitions, etc, influence the way they look as a ghost, not just their death. A big reoccurring theme of my au is that Danyal did not leave the League unscathed, and that being an assassin is an important part of his identity.

So i'm discarding the hazmat suit look entirely and leaning into the 'assassin' thing. But the general (stylized) feel is like, white ribbon/cloth vambraces that he has used as a garrote at some point, a hood, a gaiter scarf-type thing. I'm keeping the cape. I did a doodle a few days back that's not the official redesign, but a redesign for Phantom. I may reblog this post with that attached because it's got the general feel down. There's very little white involved, but the inside of his cape flares out and looks like the night sky.

Now, the hood and gaiter scarf gets rid of most of the problem, but Danny's hood doesn't stay on all the time, so the GIW have likely seen the upper half of the scar. :] Gregor's own drawn-on scar doesn't have to be 1:1, but it looks close enough, right? A small scar cutting through the edge of his brow and ends right below the corner of his eye. A 'cool, badass' one opposed to Danny's 'garish' scar.

But! Back to the episode scene. Canon Danny gets written off as being 'too prepubescent' to be Phantom, and honestly it'd be hilarious if Danyal was written off for the same reason (he's calling them idiots in his head if they do). But instead -- leaning into the GIW's incompetence here -- he gets written off as being too mature or too talkative. Or something equally as absurd.

Sam breaks up with Gregor for canon reasons, but when Gregor does his "i really like you, but, come on-!" and gestures to tucker, he adds on "and that scary friend of yours too, seriously!"

Things go relatively the same as canon after that. Danny does end up apologizing for spying, however. Sam does it first. Sorrows, prayers, all that.

.

Things usually end up changed or different when I actually write it down, so I'd likely add more or adjust different scenes according to the flow of the oneshot. This is just like, a general vibe of how things would go, and where some of the more obvious changes would be if I did write this oneshot.

Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for the ask :]

[fluideli123]

Sonadow Fic Rec

Okay, before you jump down to the masterpieces listed below, I just wanted to state this:

These authors have given this phenomenal content for free, baked with time and effort. I have never once ignored this, hence why I try and comment on each and every one of these fics. However, my energy and ability to be verbose differs day to day. Some of these fics I have not given proper comments for, despite this, I will be on it the moment I can be. In the time being, (once I am able to find my comments on each of these fics) I will be sharing my adoration for them further in other posts (and most likely link back to this one).

With that being said, please, PLEASE take your time to check each of these fics out. If they're not your cup of tea? Valid! But hands down I have never dedicated myself to making a fic rec like this until now. But I MUST share and spread these works, they are much too dear to me not to, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart.

(All fics are listed by order saved in my bookmarks, not in the order read)

tangled threads and bite-marked shoulders by @rubyiiiusions

Words: 32,287 | Series | Complete

Shadow hissed in pain. The laser had just grazed him, but it still stung, and he instinctively gripped the wound it left on his arm. “You dare-” He stopped. The laser hadn’t hit him. In fact, it had struck Sonic, right on his lower left arm. So why did his forearm feel like it just got shot? He whipped around, fear climbing up his throat, and he suddenly became hyper-aware of something new. It was like a sixth sense, feeling the confusion that emitted from Sonic’s fur in waves as if it was his own. “What did you do?!” Shadow snarled. or, eggman accidentally soulbinds shadow and sonic, and no one has any idea how to undo it.

Sleepwalking by Tirainy

Words: 22,117 | Complete

'There is a strong arm curled around his torso, the appendage keeping him close to its owner, whose warm breath is ghosting over the back of his neck. Sonic is sure he went to bed alone the previous night, but he isn't worried about the intruder. After all, this isn't the first time this has happened…'

Secret Admirer by @trenchcoat-gecko

Words: 24,313 | Complete

Sonic understood well what it meant to be loved. He was a world-famous hero, after all; his presence never went unnoticed. For the most part, he lavished in that attention, he soaked it in and encouraged it. But not romantic attention. So, when the blue blur found himself falling in love? Well, the prospect was rather daunting, no matter how easy Amy had made it out to be. So maybe, just maybe, he should just take the easy way out...

Rose Drops Series by @magicstormfrostfire

Words: 122,489 | Series | Complete

Love, Intuition, and a little bit of magic ensues as Amy sends Sonic and Shadow on an unforgettable adventure.

Wolfboy by @trenchcoat-gecko

Words: 73,856 | Complete

World-famous monster hunter Shadow the Hedgehog has a job to do. It doesn't take long for the one-shot wonder to realize that this job won't be as simple as he'd expected: a small town, rumors of a lone werewolf, and a handsome, green-eyed, chronically-injured casanova who manages to worm his way into Shadow's heart... What starts off as a simple job turns out to be something much more life-changing.

Blizzard Bedfellows by @magicstormfrostfire

Words: 21,294 | Complete

When a rare blizzard takes over the island, Sonic is on the run to make sure a certain angry loner is safe and sound. Y-you know, because...uh that's what heroes do.

We never met but can we have a cup of coffee or something? by @whitejungle

Words: 3,630 | Complete

It's been almost two months since Sonic lost someone he didn't even know, but he can't stop thinking about it.

Clean Slate by nottheweirdest

Words: 155,880 | Complete | Note: Squeal pending and I am cheering you on author!! Whatever you decide I am excited to support you!!

Shadow has lost himself before. He knows what it's like to straddle the line between reality and false memories, but this time, it’s Sonic whose memory has vanished. A premeditated set of circumstances and an accidental injury leave Sonic with no memory of who he is, his life, or more importantly, his painful history with Shadow. It’s up to Shadow to remind the hero who he is in the midst of a global outbreak. It’s a chance for redemption. It’s a chance to right the wrongs of the past. It’s a clean slate.

say i reckon (i love you, for a millisecond) by @redamancering

Words: 30,205 | Complete

There’s a hand on his shoulder, barely making contact. A red gauntlet glows around the wrist. Sonic blinks, the pain having evaporated so fast he feels almost weightless. “Shadow?” Shadow’s breathing heavily. “Problem.” The retrieval of the ancient tech Shadow (and Sonic, in tow) has been sent to uncover takes a turn for the worst. In this case, the “worst” means… becoming physically and inextricably linked to each other. For the foreseeable future. OR: Metaphysical handcuffs, and general gay buffoonery.

Judge my sins, not my feelings by yellothebeeloved

Words: 228,479 | Complete | Note: Possible one-shots pending from the author for the series, I am here to support you author!! What ever you decide I'm here for it!

Maybe he's not meant to touch. It's the newest excuse he thought of in hopes that he could prolong the game a little more; a careful ruse to enjoy the bittersweet torture of seeing the days pass them by, while he pretends he doesn't seek azure blue whenever he's restless. At first, all he wanted to do was watch: but now the desire to touch, to have, to affect is at a point where he's not sure whether reaching for Sonic would truly be fruitless. He wonders that especially when Sonic's eyes light up upon seeing him. When he corners Shadow, when he invades his space and he touches and takes and then excuses it by calling it a fight. Shadow truly wonders then: if only he was brave enough to reach out, what would his grip find? Loose stars or a battle-worn body? Standing up, he glances at Sonic again, whose eyes have now met his own. There's something heavy in the eye contact, something Shadow doesn't dare name. Neither of them say anything, and yet Sonic's eyes move away from him again, like they did. Shadow warps away, hiding from the stars once more.

Child of Prophecy by @trenchcoat-gecko

Words: 139,321 | Completed

On the night the Mobius Castle was ransacked, the Queen received a prophecy. “One of three will not cry; send him down the river, for you can only save your kingdom if he does not grow up royal.”

Coming Home by nottheweirdest

Words: 55,740 | Completed

Shadow's life has been full of mistakes, some worse than others, but admitting his unrequited feelings to Sonic tops the list. He's spent the better part of a decade ruminating on his regret and hiding from feelings he couldn't bear to face. He never thought he'd see Sonic again, and he told himself that was for the best. Until now. At the bequest of his former rival, and in an attempt to finally get closure, Shadow has returned to Central City. The reason? Sonic the Hedgehog is marrying Amy Rose. And Shadow is invited.

[daily-hanamura]

[yoo-joonghyuks-big-naturals]

Time for a round of "is that female character actually the mom friend or is she just a woman who cares about her friends and isn't completely stupid?"

[sonknuxadow]

i think ill be ok if shadow and rouge have little interaction in sonic prime because shadow is kinda stuck in the void he Cant talk to her right now plus the rouge he knows is gone. but i at least need it to be acknowledged that theyre friends. just a little flashback scene of them together or shadow showing concern for her safety or whatever will be fine. please give me Something

[sananaryon]

No characters will ever be as soulmates as Paperinik and Xadhoom

[fourswords]

actually i think in a post-canon world where shadow is "brought back" (aka made fully corporeal again because at the end of the manga he is Very Much still alive which i thought was Awesome) he should get the chance to actually make proper friends with link. i know popular fanon consensus is that link was never reformed at the end and green & red & blue & vio all remained separate but i think it would be interesting. there's a lot to be said for the friendship that i think would grow readily between zelda & shadow since it WAS her words and her capture by the dark cloud at the end that ultimately pushed him to aid the light (because he was scared FOR her, which is IMPORTANT) but for all that the friendship between vio and shadow was based on false pretenses there is absolutely no question that they DID grow attached to each other, enough that when vio attempted to smash the dark mirror shadow was very visibly upset and after the four links reunite vio is very much...i wouldn't say regretful, because he knew what he was going to have to do from the very beginning (because shadow WAS very much a threat and i don't blame him for it), but saddened. and the thing is! at the end, when shadow aids the four, they respond in kind—it's green who finds "vio" and instantly tries to get him to lean on him and offers him a hand to help him stand. it's blue that notices that "vio" is having trouble turning the sphere and turns it for him. it's vio that pleads with shadow as he lay dying to just hang in there, and it's green who ultimately tells shadow that he's one of them, which leads to shadow finally letting himself dissolve in the light. it is all the parts of link that surround him in death, and so i think it would stand to reason that if shadow were resurrected he should get to properly befriend the whole person whose parts all accepted him in the end. and honestly i think they'd get along great.

[thebrokencrescentmoon]

So a) I really want Little to be themself rather than Penny with no memories and b) Little probably isn’t dead going by the rules of the ever after but also c) I keep thinking about “and even if I can’t live for real it was worth it to know you” in relation to them and crying about it

[ectoplasmer]

I don’t think I’ve ever truly articulated just how special these characters are to me. I’ve never stayed this interested and invested in a piece of media before, at least within recent memory

[gfguren]

was suddenly struck with such a vivid image of katsuki—a little older, a little softer around the edges, a little bit in love, maybe—and it shows. everyone can tell, really, can see the hearts in his eyes, clear as day over the dinner table. they're all a little tipsy, even katsuki who rarely indulges, especially not in cheap appetizers and even cheaper liquor.

it was supposed to be a boys' night—denki, and deku, and kirishima; a rare break in their busy schedules to catch up with one another. instead katsuki's nose is buried in his messenger, tuned out completely as if his friends aren't there at all.

and they know, without a shadow of doubt, that it's you. and that you're good for him. can see the way he's mellowed over time, sweetened like fruit that refused to grow ripe. thick skinned, and bitter—but you're patient with him, always, kind even when he doesn't always deserve it. more importantly, katsuki is really, truly head over heels in love with you, and his friends know that better than anyone; (maybe even katsuki himself). which is why they let him get away with not being a boys' boy just for the night.

he thinks he's so sneaky about it too, chin propped up on one, lazy hand, manspread in the dining chair with his phone resting at his thigh—the perfect illusion of nonchalance, until it isn't. there's a brief respite in his expression, sun peaking through the storm clouds and beaming straight across the table. his shoulders unwind, brow softens; there's a hushed 'ding!' and his strawberry eyes drip golden honey.

you haven't said much at all. nothing shocking, or particularly sweet. it's the same text you've sent him every night for months now. a simple goodnight, an honest i love you. but the corners of katsuki's lips flicker like warm candlelight until he breaks into a grin.

a snicker erupts from across the table, and when he (finally) looks up he finds kirishima there, hand slapped over his mouth and one of deku's elbows shoved between his ribs.

"hey bakugou," denki calls from the kitchen, breaks whatever boy code the three of them agreed upon behind katsuki's back. "tell y/n I said hi!~"

heat rushes to katsuki's face in an instant. like clockwork, he flips his phone face-down, a scoff on his tongue as he folds his arms across his chest. he wants to be mad, honestly, has half a mind to reach across the table and chuck the bowl of cheese puffs at his head,

—but he can't shake the smile that's taken residence in his cheeks. a laugh, deep and boyish, and happy catches in his throat.

"shut the hell up, dumbass."

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪  lover !!

ᝰ.ᐟ even if he doesn't exude this energy to outsiders, you're happy to know that your boyfriend is the biggest simp around when it comes to you. or: the cute things he'll do for you.  (fem!reader)

featuring yoichi isagi, seishiro nagi, reo mikage, rin itoshi, rensuke kunigami content contains hotel bathroom sinks designed by a man, slight jealousy (reo is the jealous boyfriend), height differences (nagi + kunigami + rin are described as taller), wearing his clothes + clothes is described to be oversized on you (nagi), called a simp by his teammates (kunigami), clingy bf (yoichi <3) author's notes hq version coming soon!!! i just wanted to write something soft n fluffy for once <3

౨ৎ YOICHI ISAGI — goes viral on tiktok when the two of you go on vacation to celebrate your second year anniversary. you're recording yourself from the bathroom of the private villa he rented out for the two of you, and you originally wanted to record what an absolute joke the sink is. there is literally no counter space. nowhere to place any of your makeup or skincare products. yoichi interupts the video unknowingly, knocking softly and asking if he can come in. he doesn't realize you're filming, and it's entirely genuine when he asks, "is everything okay? you sounded frustrated? did you need help opening something?" you laugh before explaining the situation, and he's silent for all but one second before he goes, "oh! i'll just hold your makeup bag, and i'll hand you the stuff when you need it." (poor yoichi means well, but he's standing there for over an hour as you laugh at him when he can't tell the difference between a tube of lipgloss and liquid blush. the look of concentration on his face as he nods intently while you explain what each product is for is absolutely adorable; it's the same concentrated look he gets when he's reviewing game footage, meaning he's taking this seriously for you.) he's also the type that loves to follow you around. it's a common joke for his fans to comment "walk him like a dog, sis!" on any candid photos of you + yoichi because he is almost always holding your hand while trailing behind you. he's like your shadow as he follows you around different stores in the mall, and even when you tell him he can just sit down with the other boyfriends while you just try on some clothes, he refuses to leave your side. tries to follow you to the dressing room, and gets all pouty when he realizes he's not allowed in. makes you walk outside the dressing room with the new outfits on so he can rate them (he is incredibly biased and believes everything looks good on you and forces you to bring everything to the cashier so he can swipe his card to get it for you <3)

౨ৎ REO MIKAGE — cannot handle anyone else taking up large chunks of your time, especially when he rarely gets to see you during game season. makes a face anytime he realizes that the server at the restaurant is a guy. the server will smile at you and tell you that he'll get started on that meal for you right away, and reo leans forward once he's gone and goes, "i can't believe he was flirting with you right in front of me! disgusting!" he's actually convinced that every man in the world wants you for themselves, and if you tease him by threatening to run off with any of these men, he'll instantly frown and start telling you to take that back right now! however, he is entirely convinced that you are the greatest thing to ever grace this earth, and he feels so proud whenever you two are out in public and a fan or an employee compliments you. they could say anything postive about you, and he'll beam with pride, going "i know, right? i tell her this all the time!" it's almost common knowledge that the easiest way to get on reo's good side is to treat you well. he also loves listening to you gossip, and is the type of boyfriend who loves all your friends (even if he can't quite remember their names; it's only important that they treat you kindly and loyally), and hates everyone that you hate. he's also less forgiving than you; if someone backstabs you but you forgive them and grant them a second chance, just know that reo still hates their guts and he'll make it incredibly obvious.

౨ৎ SEISHIRO NAGI — can’t help but make video game versions of the two of you any chance he gets. he’ll pretend to not notice the way your eyes light up when you pass by any claw machine containing plushies of your favorite anime characters, but somehow he’ll manage to find himself at the machine, casually winning you your favorite as if the game isn’t designed to make everyone lose. (he’s just that good.) even if you’re not as big of a gamer as him, he’ll watch you play sims 4 (and subsequently watch you spend 3 hours on the create-a-sim section because you’re trying to create a perfect carbon copy of the two of you.) looks for his favorite hoodie only to glance over at your still-sleeping form on his bed and realizes that you’re wearing it. you look adorable in it; he’s taller than you, bigger in every aspect, so the material swallows you up. (he doesn’t wake you up nor does he ask for it back.) despite the fact that he’s taller than you, nagi is definitely a big baby, and is constantly the little spoon. he loves to come home and bury his face in your neck, loves the way you gently run your fingers through his hair (it’s the easiest way for him to fall asleep), and he’ll constantly try to find ways for you to hold him.

౨ৎ RIN ITOSHI — grants you “scary dog privilege.” literally will mean mug every man in the street as the two of you are walking together. everyone thinks that rin would be a selfish lover from his outside appearance, but he surprisingly puts up with a lot of your antics because he loves you so much. you don’t bother buying a step stool because you count on rin to get you anything you need from the tall shelves (and when you’re mad at him, he’ll purposely find ways to get all your most-used items on a hard-to-reach area so you have to sulkily seek him out and ask for his help. there’s no way in hell you put your face wash on top of the fridge, and rin looks all too happy to grab it for you.) he has a very bare social media account and most of the time, he just posts whatever his publicists draft up for him. the only post he has personally created and shared himself is the one of you on your birthday; in a sea of promotional posters and professionally taken game highlights, the smiling faces of you and rin stand out. (it’s the happiest any of his fans have ever seen him look.)

౨ৎ RENSUKE KUNIGAMI — his teammates make fun of him because he is notoriously loyal to you. they tricked him and took him out to a strip club, and there’s a viral video of kunigami staring intently at his phone, never looking up once at his surroundings. (he was going through your instagram feed + then ran out of photos to look at, so he started going through his camera roll to look at pictures and videos of you.) is the boyfriend who embodies the phrase ‘wear whatever you want, baby, i can fight.’ there’s a photo of you two that did numbers on pinterest. kunigmai is such a big guy, towers over you, honestly, but he readily gets down on his knees for you. in the photo, you two are dressed up to attend a gala. he’s on his knees, and you have one high-heel clad foot resting on the top of his thigh as he looks down and is adjusting the ankle strap of your heel for you. his friends shared the photo in the team groupchat and called him a simp, but kunigami knows that if they had someone half as great as you, they’d act just the same.

[endlessthxxghts]

Biology

“Uncle”!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 5.4k

Summary: Joel hurt his back at work, so you've been helping him around the house until he heals.

Content/Warnings: able-bodied, female sex anatomy, and inherently fem!reader. No description of reader, everything is neutral (ex. “your bottoms,” “the curve of you” — nothing is specific in the way “you” are described). Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel in 50s). EXPLICIT MATERIAL PRESENT. HEED THE WARNINGS. WEIRD boundaries are crossed…you're not blood-related to Joel, but you were raised like you were. You call him “uncle.” Pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, etc.). Pussy pronouns (she). Innocent touches until it isn't. Sexual tension galore. Slight dub-con. Icky Joel. Icky reader. Pussy grinding. Dirty talk. Slight degradation (“bitch” is used only once). Multiple orgasms. P in V unprotected. Reader is on top. Lots of teasing about the nature of yours and Joel’s relationship. If there’s anything that should be up here but I missed or I made any improper tags, please let me know!

A/N: Hi, my loves! This is slightly different than what you’re used to coming from me… All I can say is, you’ve read the warnings! Don’t bite if it is not your flavor! But for those who do like, I really hope you enjoy! And to my love @strang3lov3, thank you for prompting this and encouraging this side of my brain to finally stop hiding in the shadows. And thank you for your eyes on this and the mood board as well. I love you.🩶

masterlist | notifs blog

“Hey, hon, when you headin’ over to uncle Joel’s?”

You glance at the timer on the oven. “In about ten minutes after these cookies cool. Need something from me?”

“Can ya grab my toolbox before ya leave? Forgot it there the other day,” he replies. “Figured you could get it since you’re already goin’ there today.”

“Sure thing. It’s not the heavy one, is it? Because I don’t know if that old man’s back is ready for a heavy lift like that yet.” The timer on the oven beeps. You slide on your oven mitts to pull the tray out. “Made two batches by the way. How many you want? I’m taking some to Uncle’s, too.” 

About a week ago, Joel had a contracting accident. Some newbie wasn’t watching the older man’s back as Joel climbed up a wobbly ladder, and the next moment, Joel’s footing slipped. He landed right on his lower back, a piece of wood perched on the ground, sitting at just the right spot on the floor to render him immobile. Tommy, Joel’s younger brother, and your father, his best friend since before you were born, are the only two Joel trusts to get the job done perfectly, so Joel put them two in charge until he heals. 

Bed rest, the doctor had ordered Joel, for at least three weeks. It’s been one so far, but with you offering to be his nurse — one that forces him to stay in bed unless he needs to eat or use the restroom — he thinks he just might be back to work by next week. If you’ll let him, that is. 

“No, it’s the small one, hon, you got it,” your father reassures you. He lovingly slaps his growing belly as the trays hit the kitchen counter. “Y’know, darlin’, ever since you moved back, I’ve been gainin’ some weight. Can’t imagine what you’re doin’ t’ Joel over there.”

Your lip pulls up in a smirk. “Joel is in good hands, y’know. And technically, I don’t have to leave you any,” you say with a challenging brow, pulling the cookie trays out of his reach. 

“No, no, I’m not sayin’ that,” your father’s eyebrows raise in worry. His daily cookie is very important to him. “You can leave me like… five… or six.” 

“I’m just gonna leave you a whole batch. The six are gonna be gone before I even leave the house,” you tell your father as his hand subconsciously reaches for the cookie tray. 

He scoffs, “Ya have no faith in me.”

“So what’s in your hand already?”

“Whatever,” he mumbles, walking away with a mouthful of warm cookie dough and melted milk chocolate chips. 

“Uh huh,” you yell back. “Gonna be leaving in just a sec. I’ll see you later.”

It takes less than ten minutes to get to your uncle’s house. You unlock the door using the spare key he gave you as a teenager, and immediately, nurse mode is activated. 

“Uncle Joel!” You yell, exasperated. He turns around from his place in the kitchen, painfully slow. He’s going to make his back worse. “What do you think you’re doing?” You place the fresh cookies on his dining table along with your keys. You cross your arms angrily for good measure. 

“My coffee’s cold. I was warmin’ it up,” he huffs, annoyed.

“Bed, please.” Your hands find his waist, and you guide him back to his room. “You know I’m here around this time. You didn’t wanna call me first to see where I was?”

You ease him in a sitting position at the edge of his bed. He grunts as his ass meets the mattress. He grumbles his response. “Need to start gettin’ back to everythin’ independently, y’know that, don’tcha?”

“Is your memory going with your back, too, unc?” 

“‘Scuse me?” He looks at you incredulously. 

“Three weeks were the doctor’s orders. Not one,” you tell him, putting your foot down. 

He lays himself down with another wince at the motion, no acknowledgement to your words. God, he’s so stubborn. 

“I’ll go make you a fresh cup,” you tell him, feeling sympathetic for the man. His work is his life, and it’s not going to get any easier with age. 

Making your way back to his kitchen, you wash out the coffee pitcher, replace the grounds and the filter, and do some light cleaning as you wait for the bitter, brown liquid to brew. 

It’s only been five minutes since you returned to the kitchen, and the painful moans and groans from his bedroom have only gotten louder. You search around the place and find the heat pack you bought a few days ago and pop it in the microwave. You grab some pain meds, fill up a glass of water, and just in time, the microwave sings to you, telling you your contents are ready. 

Ignoring the coffee for a moment, you make your way back to Joel’s bedroom. His eyes are closed, but his entire body is tensed up in pain. Poor guy. You knock at his door to catch his attention before entering. “Unc?”

One eye peels open. “Yes, nurse?”

“Funny.” A sarcastic laugh leaves your throat. “Come take these.”

He makes no move to get up. 

You set the painkillers and the water on his bedside table, the heat pack wedged underneath your armpit. You start to reach for Joel to help him up, but he stops you. “I got it,” he grunts. You let him have this win. 

You hand him the glass of water first, then the pills. He swallows the painkillers in one big gulp, swallowing down the rest of the water in another. He eyes the heat pack in your arm. 

“Do you want-”

“Yes,” he says immediately, reaching for the soft warmth. 

“Lay down first, I’ll put it underneath you.”

Without another word, he positions himself. His body jerks when your soft hand slips underneath his back, pushing him to lift a little while you slide the heat underneath. “This okay?”

“Mhm,” he forces out, eyes clamped shut. It’s not okay, you think. 

“How would you feel on your stomach?” you suggest. 

“Dunno. Never tried.”

“Well, then.” You set the heat pack down, and it’s your turn to crawl, uninvited, into his bed. You walk on your knees towards the opposite, unoccupied side, adjusting the pillows in a way you think might be the most comfortable. This isn’t your first rodeo dealing with an old man’s back; you’ve got your dad. This is, however, your first rodeo dealing with an old man more stubborn than a screaming goat not getting his way. “Come on.”

“No.” 

“What do you mean no?” 

“That ain’t gonna be comfortable.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and take a deep breath. “I swear to God. I will flip your ass over myself if I have to.”

“You’re bossy,” he spits.

“So you’ve said.” 

Not giving him a chance to prepare, you hook your one hand at his side and your other on his hip, and you pull him towards you. It doesn’t fully flip him over, but it does the trick in getting him to finish the rest of the action himself — albeit, with a very strained yelp from the back of his throat. 

He groans for a few minutes more as you adjust some flat pillows underneath his belly and then prop the lukewarm heating back right at the base of his spine. You’ll probably have to heat it up in ten minutes again, but it’ll do for now. You stay in your spot for a minute, and already his pained noises begin to subside. 

“Better?” You know it is. You just want him to admit it. 

And when a single huff with zero protests from the grumpy man reverberates around the room, you know you’ve won this round. 

“I’ll go get your coffee now,” you hum. 

A soft rasp of your name has you spinning back around as you reach the room’s threshold. 

“Hm?”

“Thanks,” he tells you. 

“It’s what I’m here for, unc.”

You put his fresh cup of coffee in a thermos this time. You can’t imagine how often he’ll get up being in this position, but at least the freshness will be there with every sip he does end up taking. 

“How’s it going?” You ask him as you set his coffee nearby. You feel the heat pack on his spine, and it’s as you called it to be by now: room temperature. “Want me to reheat it?” 

“‘M okay,” he replies, voice groggy. He must’ve fallen asleep. 

“Okay.” You stand there for a moment. You can tell the heat helped, but his body isn’t entirely relaxed. He’s still tense, as if a nerve or something is being pinched. 

You recall your memory from a while ago before you moved back with your dad. Your brother, who is a mixed martial arts athlete, had a sparring session that hurt his back, nearly in the same area as Joel. He had you running his massage gun over his muscles nearly every night for a month straight. “It needs to uncoil somehow,” he told you. An idea crosses your mind then. 

You saunter to Joel’s en suite bathroom in search of some type of lubricant. Sitting loud and proud on the center of the bathroom counter is a little bottle of Equate’s Personal Liquid Lubricant. Your brain falters for a second, the bottle of lube throwing you off your original plan. That is absolutely not the kind of lubricant you were looking for. Shaking away the image from your mind, you bend down to look in the cabinets underneath. Bingo, a bottle of Aveeno body lotion. This should do. 

You invite yourself onto his bed for the second time today. “Let me give you a massage.”

“What?” His head turns to you now, utterly confused. He definitely heard you wrong, he thinks. 

“Let me give you a massage,” you repeat. “It’ll help.”

A massage actually does sound nice right now. But you’ve been nothing but bossy this last week while Joel lays here helplessly. He’s bored. And he’s had enough. “It ain’t gonna help.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

Jesus. Haven’t you had this conversation before? You mentally slap your forehead. Again, leaving him no other options, you reach for his flannel atop his shoulders and begin to pull them down. 

“Hey, hey, wait, now what in the hell-” He tries to stifle back a laugh as he wriggles in your hold, trying to playfully push you off without hurting himself more in the process. 

You quickly release his clothes, hands up in surrender where he can see them. You’re just realizing now just how forward your action must’ve been. “How am I gonna massage you-” 

The embarrassment written all over your face has Joel tearing up as he tries to hold his wheezing laugh in. With his eyebrow quirked at you, he responds, “If you wanted me naked, kiddo-”

“Jesus, ew! Really?” An unbearable heat spreads across your cheeks. Your eyes are downcast, looking everywhere else but him. “It- it’ll be better if I can directly touch-”

Only then do you feel the bed shaking with his laughter. He’s fucking with you. And here you were, about to offer something that would relieve a whole lot of pain. “Oh, fuck you,” you scoff, pulling yourself up and making your way off of his bed. 

“No, okay, wait,” he laughs, trying to catch his breath. “Jus’ messin’ with you, who am I to deny a massage?” He raises his eyebrows once, twice. Still messing with you, seeing how far his taunting with you can go. 

“You’re disgusting,” you deadpan. 

“‘M not the one tryin’ t’ massage her uncle,” Joel says as he attempts to shrug his shoulders at you.

“I’m gonna leave now.” One foot makes it to the ground before Joel speaks again. 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, ya can’t take a joke? I’m only messin’ around. Come back. Gonna leave me hangin’? In pain? C’mon, nurse.” His tone falls softer, sweeter. You can hear the shit-eating grin in his words. And, fuck, why is it making you heat even further, in places beyond your face? In places you shouldn’t be?

“Fine,” you relent. “Stop saying weird shit then.” You still can’t look at him. Not after the way your body decided to react in the shift of energy. An abrupt shift of energy, as far as you can tell. 

He’s your dad’s best friend. Your uncle, for crying out loud. Not by blood, but still. There’s never been a feeling beyond that. Sure, you’ve had your silly little school girl crush on him during your young teenage years, but that was your hormones being your hormones. You grew out of them. Even your own father can’t deny the conventional attractiveness of his best friend. 

Plus, suggestive commentary is bound to make anyone feel hot. It’s basic biology. Your response is nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. At least, that’s what you convince yourself of when you climb back into your uncle’s— no, into Joel’s bed, trying to ignore the way your panties stick dutifully against your throbbing core.

Joel leans onto his side as you get yourself situated, unbuttoning the bottom half of his flannel, so you can flip up the bottom to reach his lower back. After the bottom half of the buttons are undone, he lays back on his front. “Here,” he calls your name. “Jus’ lift it up from the bottom.”

You scoot closer to him, standing on your knees, and you reach over to grab the hem of his flannel, pulling it up as gently as possible, exposing just enough to be able to reach the irritated areas. You frown at what you see. Inflamed skin, purples and yellows dancing all across his lower back, forcing him away from the very thing he lives for. He may have been a stubborn bitch this entire week, but that doesn’t stop the sympathy you feel for the man. 

You put some of the lotion in your hand, rubbing it between your two palms to warm it up a little. You place your hand on the side closest to you first, moving in circular motions and adjusting your pressure ever so often. “Let me know when the pressure is good.”

So far he hasn’t said much, a slight groan here, an exhale there. You feel a knot as you move lower, so you increase your pressure. You’re met with a literal moan, and you swear you have to bite back your own vocal response. “Fuck,” he sucks in a sharp breath. “Yeah, jus’ like that, ‘s perfect, darlin’.” 

“Okay,” you squeak, your thighs clenching together to attempt any kind of relief to the heat between your legs. 

After a few more passes over the area — and a few more indulgent, harder presses of your palm to pull more angelic sounds from him — you switch to the other side. Except, at this angle, you don’t really have as good an angle as you did before. Your leg swings over his ass, bracketing him in between your thighs, before you can even register the move your body just made. A soft gasp falls from your lips as you feel the new angle you’ve just given yourself. 

“Joel?” You call sweetly. Innocently.”I- I’m not hurting you or anything, am I?”

Hurting? No. Putting him through Hell? Close enough. 

Joel has done many questionable things in his lifetime. Getting involved with taken (married or otherwise) women, couples who wanted a third… Joel has lived through it all. Mainly in his younger years, but nevertheless. He has done and seen many things. But none of these things have ever included getting a fucking hard on for a girl — a woman? — he practically had a hand in raising. You call him uncle, for crying out loud. 

His physical response means nothing. It’s basic biology. The tender yet skilled touch of your warm hands directly against his even hotter skin, lighting every single nerve ending on fire, forcing the blood to course through his veins, to make its way down south— 

“Christ-” he snarls as you practically sit on him. His mouth shuts instantly as his eyes shoot open. He didn’t mean for that to come out. “Y-yeah,” he corrects. “‘M alright.” 

“Just- just let me know,” you tell him. He can hear the shake in your voice. He can tell biology is doing a number on you, too, based on your tone alone, if the heat engulfing his rear as you try your best not to make contact with it isn’t enough to go by. 

He focuses on his breathing as best he can as your hands push slightly past his jeans, getting underneath the seam of his boxers, and then immediately softening your touch as you run your fingers up his spine, awaking a chill he never knew was possible until now. You rub beyond the exposed area of his lower back, reaching his shoulder blades and entirely up to his shoulders, forcing the flannel to rise with your hands. He’s so broad and warm, and you would absolutely be drooling all over him by now if you weren’t so shocked at how tight his muscles really feel. How has this man not gotten any injuries sooner? How was he still doing all this heavy lifting? You dig the pads of your finger tips further into the thousands of tiny knots you feel, and his body jerks in actual pain this time. 

“God damn, girl,” he snaps. “What are you doin’?” 

“How the fuck do you even function?” You sound genuinely horrified. 

“What-”

“Your shoulders and neck are fucking covered in knots how do you even-” you cut yourself off with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You need to flip over.” 

Fuck. 

“Why?” He asks defensively. 

“I’m gonna break these knots. I need to start from the front.” 

“Ya ain’t gettin’ anywhere near my neck, I swear to God-”

“Quit being stubborn. What did I say earlier? I’m gonna flip you myself if you don’t-”

“Alright, fine, gimme a sec,” he bites. Joel takes a deep breath, at war with himself for how he’s going to handle his next course of action. 

Whatever happens next, there is no avoiding the fact that you will be made aware of the bulging erection between his legs. You can know about it, that’s fine, but the second you make contact, he doesn’t know if he’ll have the strength to control himself. Which is why he rips off the band aid quick. Flipping himself over with you still hovering over him, he tries his best not to touch you. Though, the second he’s comfortable, his focus is on your waist, grabbing you immediately and missing the way your eyes widen at the tenting fabric of his jeans. He pulls you higher up to sit on his lower tummy. 

You squeak out a little gasp as he adjusts you, and fuck it makes the pulsing between his legs even worse. He releases you, bringing his hands back to his sides. 

“Comfortable?” you whisper. You try so hard not to use your voice, worried that it’ll reveal just how turned on you are by this situation you’ve put yourself in. He gives you a single nod, and with that, you lean to grab more lotion. 

The angle you are at forces you to lean the front of your body onto Joel to be able to reach his shoulders. You can feel his body tense underneath you; you can hear his labored breathing as your hands further push away his flannel, working away at each knot. 

You lean forward further, giving yourself the ability to reach just below Joel’s neck. With this action, your hips shift, pressing down against Joel’s belly in a way that sends a sudden jolt of butterflies through your core. Your hands freeze in their movement, breath and fingertips stuttering as your entire face and neck heat up. You sneak a quick glance to Joel, and his eyes are still relaxed. He didn’t notice. 

It takes you a moment to start your movements back up again, but when you do, you can’t help the way you repeat exactly what you did before — allowing yourself another experimental roll of your hips against his soft abdomen. Only this time, you’re way less sly, for the whimper of pleasure you thought you could hide slips right out, right for his sharp ears to take note of. Shit. 

“Y’ alright there?” His eyes are trained on you now; he knows what you just did. Joel sports a quirked eyebrow as he waits for your response. 

“Mhm,” you rush out, ignoring his piercing gaze. 

It takes every ounce of willpower for you to run over the knots in his shoulder again without driving your hips into him, but even the push and pull of your arms is a full body movement, and you feel it. You feel the growing wetness in your core, the growing heartbeat that his bare tummy no doubt can feel now. 

Your body is splayed across him, the warmth of you leaking through your bottoms and onto his hot skin as you pathetically try to play off the fact that you aren’t grinding your wet cunt across him right now. With a rasp of your name, he takes a sharp breath in. “What are ya doin’?” He grunts, pained. Conflicted. 

This is so wrong. But it feels so good. Your arousal — how utterly desperate you are for the older man underneath you — is shone all over your face, brighter than any other feeling of disgust or wrongness you’re trying to convince yourself of. But the internal battle is still there, though, and it forces your hips to come to a full stop. It forces cries of apologies from your lips. It forces regret. 

“I- I’m sorry,” you choke back a sob. “Please, I- this is so wrong, I’m so stupid, uncle, I-” 

God damn it. Joel is too damn hard to deal with this shit now. “Oh, Jesus Christ, will you cut the fuckin’ uncle bullshit?” He finally snaps. His hands spring to life, finding their way up your thighs, tightening once they reach your hips. He forces you to move again. “Ya think I wanna hear that fuckin’ word while you fuckin’ soak me? Huh? While ya rub on me like a fuckin’ bitch in heat?”

“Shit,” you moan, the strength of his hand making the assault against your mound all the more intense. “Joel, please,” you cry, your fingers shaking as you hold onto his chest. 

Your thighs begin to tremble as he maintains a rough pace to your movements, his bed creaking with every shove of your hips against him. His grip on you is one of steel, the pads of his fingers digging into your flesh, no doubt leaving tiny bruises as a reminder of today’s actions. 

He is fucking covered in you — the slick of your desire pooling through your bottoms and into his skin, making each grind smoother. He licks his lips at this, his eyes dark as he drinks you in from above; your own eyes glossy and a sheen of sweat along your skin. “Look at ya, darlin’,” he murmurs, voice low enough to send a fresh wave of arousal pouring from your hole. “Fuckin’ soakin’ me, baby. Needed me that bad, did ya? Was tryin’ t’ tell ya earlier,” he grunts, “Y’know ya just had to ask.” A lazy smirk pulls across his lip. 

You let out a whimper at his words, your hips finally rolling alongside his own guidance, instinctively searching for more friction. “Atta girl,” he groans, “That’s it, fuck- makin’ a fuckin’ mess a’ me, darlin’.” 

You’re panting now, the rhythm and pressure mixed with the filth of his Southern drawl ignites every single nerve ending throughout your body. He watches you with a dark intensity, the brown of his eyes replaced with pure black lust, his eyes unable to stray away from the pleasurable desperation filling your features. 

“Gonna come like this, sweetheart?” He taunts, driving you into him even harder. 

“Mmm- my God, yeah- yes,” you cry out, eyes rolling back as the coil in your belly finally tightens, your breathing ragged as needy moans escape your lips. 

With a final roll of your hips and the utterance of a that’s my girl, the coil finally snaps, pleasure crashing over you, coursing through your veins as you come all over him, your slick unable to stay within the limits of your clothes, leaking and dripping down the sides of him and onto the mattress below. Your thighs convulse around his waist, his hold on you continuing your thrusts, dragging out your orgasm until your own hands find his and rip him away from you.

“Ya ain’t done yet, sugar,” Joel gruffs, grabbing the globes of your ass cheeks and dragging you down, letting you feel his ignored and now raging erection. 

“Never said I was,” you purr, a soft moan blessing his ears at the feel of his bulge against your ass. He can feel your smirk against his chest. 

Body still trembling, Joel lifts your ass in the air, sliding your bottoms down over the curve of your body. The stickiness of your panties pulls off with a wet squelch, the cool air of the room mingling with the wet warmth of your bare pussy, the stark contrast forcing chills to run through your veins. 

“God,” he murmurs as you give a little wiggle of your ass in the air. “Pretty as a peach, huh, darlin’?” He guides you lower, pushing you down onto his bulge. The hardness of him beneath you immediately sends a fiery need to your core. Your hands move on their own as you pull your body up, reaching for the buttons and zipper of his jeans, undoing them with ease despite the eager shake of your hand. You pull the jeans down just enough to let his cock spring free, thick and angry and leaking. 

“Oh, fuck,” you swallow your gasp. “God, I need you so bad,” you whine, already lifting up to line the tip of him to your swollen cunt. 

You sink down with a breathless moan, your head flying back as your hands grip onto his tummy to keep you from buckling. 

Joel’s breathing stutters, his moans filling the air as you practically choke his cock. “Shit- so fuckin- fuckin’ tight.” His hands find their home on the meat of your ass, holding you tight, grounding himself from coming like a damn teenager.

You move slowly at first, savoring the way he feels inside of you, how big he is. God, you don’t think you’ve ever taken anything quite as long and as thick as him. Your heart skips a beat at that, knowing that he’s ruined you for anyone else. 

It isn’t long before the raw need takes over, and you move faster, hips rolling back and forth as you ride him, the wet sound of skin against skin as you alternate to a bounce ever so often. 

Despite the risk of hurting his back even more, he can’t stop himself from gripping you tighter, his nails digging into your flesh as his hips buck up into you, starting their own rhythm, meeting every one of your thrusts. The sensation is overwhelming with the size of him; it’s a perfect mix of pleasure and pain, mixing sweet whines of ecstasy with whines of overstimulation, and it’s the best music to have ever graced his ears. 

“Look at ya,” he grunts. “Fuckin’ made for this, weren’t ya? Fuckin’ made for takin’ this cock, huh, sweetheart?” 

You nod weakly at his words. They send a flutter down your belly to your pussy, and his mouth is all it takes to send you to your second brink of collapse — your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you move, as he drives himself into you without abandon. 

Every thrust pushes you further to the edge, the sting of the stretch, the sensation of being so full — it’s almost too much to bear. He can hear it in the way your cries change. It’s becoming too much. 

“Y’ can take it, sweetheart, almost there,” he grunts. His hands take over in guiding your movements, urging you faster, harder, bringing you both to the cliff’s edge. 

“C’mon, baby, can feel her squeezin’ me, know she wanna come, baby. Breathe, doll, jus’ let go,” he rasps, his words coming in staggered.

The wet tightness of your walls, both the feel and the sound, causes Joel to fall first — a low, guttural groan filling the room as he fills you with his hot, thick spend.

The sensation of him pulsing inside you, unloading everything he’s worth, sends you over your edge, your pussy clenching around his cock as you come, the sensation rippling through you, shredding your vocal cords as you scream out in pleasure. 

Everything goes dark for you, nothing but the fuzzy sound of Joel’s sweet praises at the top of your head as he guides you through your come down. 

“Did so fuckin’ good f’ me, darlin’,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl.”

For an asshole, who knew he could be so sweet? 

You roll off of Joel as soon as your heart steadies, your entire body on fire from all the exertion. You can feel Joel’s body stiffen as you use him for support. His back is killing him right now.

A few moments pass as your eyes slowly start to close, but the deep gruff of your name stops you from dozing. 

You turn your head to the man beside you. “Yes?” 

For the first time today, it’s Joel who can’t make eye contact with you. “Can you, uh… can you-” he clears his throat, trying to rid himself of his awkwardness. “Can you warm up the heat pack again?” 

Your smirk lifts your cheek before you can even try to stop it. “Come again?” 

He lets out a frustrated huff. And he can’t turn away from you. His back is killing him right now. “My back-”

“Yeah, what about your back?” 

“You fuckin’ little shit-”

You giggle as you flip onto your side, your hand holding your head up to get a better look at him. “Your back is hurting, baby? Need me to get the heat pack for you, hm?” 

He doesn’t respond. He just has the deepest, most grumpiest scowl known to man on display. 

“Oh, come on. You need my help, is that it? Need to hear you say it, unc.” You emphasize the last syllable of your sentence, a belly laugh threatening to escape you. 

Oh, two can play at that game. “Yeah, baby, I need your help. I need the help from my beautiful, beautiful niece, hm? My beautiful, needy niece whose pussy gets all soaked jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout me, huh? Gets all wet and needy thinkin’ ‘bout her uncle-”

Your resolve finally snaps, your eyes clamping shut as you cover your ears, loud la la la’s coming from your mouth as you ungraciously roll yourself off of his bed. “Enough, fine! Fine! Fuckin’ nasty,” you groan as you make your way to the kitchen. 

“‘M not the one who started it, sweetheart,” Joel says, a triumphant smile plastered across his cocky face. 

“I made you cookies by the way,” you yell after a beat. “Want one?” 

Joel’s hand reaches for his belly. He doesn’t need one, that’s for sure. “Yeah,” he responds not a second later. 

You come back to his bedroom, heat pack in one hand, no cookie in the other. You hand him the heat pack. You make him adjust it himself. 

“Where’s the cookie?” He asks, a tinge of impatience on his tongue. 

“Oh, I thought you were gonna come down and get it.” 

He looks at you incredulously. 

“I just figured you wanted to start being more independent and all. Given how strenuous you were being a few moments ago,” you offer with a faux innocence.  

“I swear to fuckin’ God, when I get my hands on you-”

“Your hands on me? Yeah? When?” You start making your way out of his bedroom. “Come get me if you wanna show me a lesson. Know you been dying to all week.” 

If he can fuck you the way he did, maybe full-time bed rest isn’t what Joel needs. He needs to stretch and move around; he needs to activate his muscles, especially being on the older side. It really is basic biology.

I would absolutely love to hear what you guys thought of this! Any and all your love and commentary truly keeps me going and motivated even when the writer’s block is at its strongest. Wouldn’t be here without you all. I have so much love in my heart for you! Talk to y’all soon🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

Leaf divider by @saradika-graphics

[selineram3421]

здраствуйте можно сделать реакцию на ревность аластора

Translated:

Hi, can I get a reaction to Alastor's jealousy?

Yes.

Jealousy Headcanon 1

Alastor X Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ platonic to romantic, violence, all caps in bold italics = SOUND EFFECTS, implied torture/murder, gore? eyeballs, possessive? Alastor wants all of your attention ⚠

Alastor has never felt jealous! How absurd of you to think that! Hahaha! Ha... Who is that demon taking up your attention?

He always had your attention.

You could be talking to the Princess but still focus on him.

Hell, you could be checking in a guest and still keep up with his tale of the day.

But now it was quite odd.

There was a demon coming by the hotel, not to see if they were interested in the cause but to use up his friend's precious time.

Even now the beastly thing walked up to the check in counter and started up a conversation with you.

He watched from the bar.

"Hey! I see its dead as ever in here.", the dragon demon grinned as they leaned on the counter.

"Not true~", you had replied. "I checked in four new guests!"

Yes, you had a knack of persuasion. Able to convince many to do almost anything. Sometimes even him.

"Oh yeah? How many sinners walked in?", the scaled creature leaned close.

Far too close for his liking.

"I just told you how many.", you replied and placed a finger on the dragon's snout, pushing them back as well. "Personal space."

He didn't like this demon.

Everything about them set something off. Their manners, their way of speaking, the way they move-

"Oh come on, I don't bite sugar cake~", the beast took your hand and kissed their way up to your elbow.

The way they t̵̬̥̻͂̿̈́ȏ̴̒͠u̸c̷̈́̊̆́̓͘h̷e̴̖̖͒̓͂͋̎ḑ̴̣̋͜ you.

"Nope!", you yanked your arm away and held it close. "None of that.", you laughed nervously with an uncomfortable smile.

It looked wrong. Your smile should be a happy one.

"I said I don't bite!", they laughed and tried to grab at your arm again. "You know I'm messing! When's your break?", they leaned over the counter, still trying to get at something to pull you closer. "I know a good bar to go to, or we can go to the club! I'd like to see your ass in something a little less-"

"Ew, no.", you rejected and backed away.

"Come on!", they started to climb on the counter. "Its just one time! I'll even help you get in and out of your clothes.", they grabbed onto your sleeve.

That's ENOUGH!

He quickly shadow traveled and snatched the wrist of the dragon.

"I believe they said no."

The beast growled with a sneer before looking at him, freezing up once realizing who had their wrist.

"I was just joking man. Haha..", the dragon looked between him and you. "I understand! I'll back away. The slut is yours."

"Excuse me!?", you said angrily.

His antlers grew, the low static that hummed now raising up in volume.

"₵₳ⱤɆ ₮Ø ⱤɆ₱Ɇ₳₮ ₮Ⱨ₳₮?"

"The slut-"

SNAP

He held the demon's snout shut as they screamed and cried over their broken wrist.

"Now, there is a no killing rule in the hotel.", he said and then grinned menacingly. "But that doesn't apply outside."

His smile widened after seeing the panic in their eyes.

"Dear.", he turned to face you. "Has this guest overstayed their welcome?"

You stared at the beast with such a terrifyingly hateful glare.

"Yes they have.", you replied, crossing your arms. "I'd like to keep a souvenir, for memories."

And then you gave him that lovely smile.

"Alastor, do you think you could get me a dragon eye or two? I hear they make nice details to things."

"I'll make sure to get them.", he released the demon, only for his tendrils to take hold of them. "I won't be long.", he reassured, lifting up your hand to kiss the back of it.

He saw you blush before he 'escorted' the demon outside.

After finishing up (and calling Niffty to clean up), he returned with two freshly picked dragon eyes.

You thanked him with an odd little gleam in your eyes. No doubt your mind jumping idea to idea of what you could create with them.

Now with the pest gone, he would have your attention again.

Just like he wanted

"Thank you Alastor. I'll be able to make something interesting with these."

"I can't wait to see what you make this time."

Perhaps he'll ask you that question sooner than later.

Of course he has to prepare everything to properly court you.

I am using a website to translate requests. Please let me know if I have translated anything wrong.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@willowaudreykeyes @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @lbcreations-blog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

[terrestrialnoob]

Harley crawled into the apartment. It was organized, but it looked like the occupant didn't have a lot of time for cleaning. She walked softly through it, taking it in. There were photos of her target and what had to be her family, but no friends or romantic partners. Some had a pair of older adults, matching traits meant bio-parents. More of the photos were of the target and a younger boy - a little brother, the highest likelihood of becoming another target if things go bad.

Harley continued forward, following the light to where her target was. She stood in the doorway, looking in.

Dr. Jasmine Fenton, Arkham Asylum's newest psychologist, just got her degree and everything. She did what most newbies do, actually thinking she could get through to the Joker. Harley didn't want to say it was impossible, but everyone who tried ended up in a new job or dead. Harley would try and make sure it was the former and not the later.

Harley watched as the redhead read over a file as she ate from a takeout box. She didn't want to scare the girl, yet. The scaring her away from Joker came later. So, she had to wait for the perfect moment to-

"I know you're there." Jasmine didn't look up from her file, but held out the last box of Chinese food in Harley's direction. "There's plenty if you want some."

"Awe, you ruined the surprise." Harley walked out of the shadows of the hallway into the girl's home office. She snatched the offered box of food and took a few bites as she jumped to sit on the desk.

"I'm hard to sneak up on." Jasmine said, closing her file and finally looking at Harley. "So, Dr. Quinzel, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this evening?"

"Oh, call me Harley!" She laughed, she wasn't called Dr. all that often any more. She tapped her chop sticks on the file Jasmine just closed. "I thought you'd like a consult on your new patient, Dr. Fenton. I've got a lot of experience with him."

"I prefer to go by Jazz." She said with a smile, "While I appreciate the offer, I'd like to see how far I can get on my own. And, sorry, but I'm pretty sure your license was revoked."

Harley nodded as she swallowed to get the noodles out of her mouth. "I get it! You're new, fresh outta school, gotta prove yourself. But Joker ain't the guy to do that with. He eats people like us for breakfast, and in all the years he's been in Arkham, no one's been able to get anywhere with him."

Jazz sighed, "I don't like to believe people are lost causes. There's always something we can do to help."

"You can't help everyone, especially when they don't want it. And it's not just a question if whether or not he can be saved or whatever." Harley set down the now empty box, Jazz pointed to another one that still had food in it, but Harley declined. "If you keep it up, he'll think you're worth his time to torment. There's no telling what he'll do when he inevitably gets himself out again."

"I'll be fine." Jazz said, but Harley had to cut her off before she said something stupid.

"It's not just you! You've got family out there he can target, your parents. Your Brother! Anyone you date will become a target! He'll do everything in his power to make your life miserable!"

Jazz chuckled. "If he wants to target my family, his funeral. My parents are - were supervillains. They've really only become less- well, hyper-focused on eradicating an entire race of being- in the past few years. And my brother - I'm pretty sure he's conditionally immortal. So that's nothing to worry about."

"If it's conditional, Joker will find a way around it." Harley said, but she had to admit, this might have been an unnecessary trip. "You sure y'ain't got nothing to worry about? What about you? How conditional is your mortality?"

Jazz smiled. Her mouth seemed too wide and with too many teeth. "Oh, I am nowhere near immortal. But..."

She stood up and the room was suddenly a black void. Toxic green eyes and mouths filled with glowing white teeth opened around them. "I doubt anyone could get close enough to test it."

The room was suddenly back to normal, but whatever that thing was was still there. Harley could see its eyes watching her with amusement from inside Jazz's oversized cardigan.

"Well, I guess this really was a wasted trip. You've clearly got it covered."

"Not entirely." Jazz said, her hand wend up to her neck to rub nervously, "Well, you see... I don't really have a lot of friends. People tend to get - uh, creeped out, you know? Or chased off by my parents or brother or whatever..."

"You wanna be friends?" Harley laughed so hard she almost fell over.

Jazz's face turned bright red and the shadow eyes looked way less amused. "Yeah, stupid question. You've clearly got your own things going on."

"No! No, no." Harley had to take several deep breaths before she could look Jazz in the face again. "I 100% wanna hang out with you!"

"Really?"

"Oh yeah." She took another deep breath, "I mean, I really should have made a support system before trying to take on the Joker back when I worked for Arkham. This" she pointed between them "can only end well."

Jazz's face turned brighter than the sun. "Oh my gosh! This is amazing! We should - I have Thursday's and weekends off - What - what kind of things should we-"

Oh man, Jazz was like an excited kid. She must have had a really lonely childhood... they can psychoanalyze each other later. "Come over for girl's night next week. I'll tell my gf and bff to expect an extra person... Does the-" she motioned to the cardigan creature "-go everywhere you go? Does it need food?"

"Oh, don't worry about Jet, they only eat who I tell them to."

Harley barked out more laughter. "You're going to fit right in!"

Now featuring a Part 2

[hoseoksluna]

LIQUID STARS | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. bam)

genre: angst, smut

word count: 11.8k

summary: to seal the deal, you give jungkook what he wants—your kiss, your cunt and your virginity.

playlist: liquid stars / pinterest board: wine

warnings: size kink, heavy dd/lg themes, provocation, dry humping, dirty talk, mentions of porn, oral sex (f. + m. receiving), multiple orgasms & countdown, dom/sub dynamics, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), first time, jealousy, inner child healing, plushie used during intercourse, jungkook fucks her numb & dumb, praise kink, cum eating, pet names and the establishment of a title, bondage, raw sex, tummy bulge, desperation, pain felt during intercourse, squirting

note: as difficult as it was to write this, i'm immensely thankful. this changed my life; it healed me and i'll dream about it for a long, long time. i was as exhausted as oc once i finished this, because i truly did give my all. everyone, this is part four to my series 'wine' and therefore the very end. this is the very beginning of jungkook's and oc's relationship. can be read as a standalone as there aren't any quirks from the other parts (except for bunny), though if you wish to read them now, now is the perfect time. now you can see the beautiful gradual development of their relationship. please, enjoy as you read and let me know your favorite parts bc i need to talk about this. heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that can be uncomfortable for some. thank you! and thank you for all the love on this series. i'll never forget it. i love you, guys. ʚɞ

side note: give some round of applause for 3D daddy provider jungkook everyone!! he deserves it!!!

Silky lilac bows adorn the tops of your pigtails that cascade down in loose braids, sprawled on the cotton of his pillow and on the soft belly of a bunny plushie. There are still traces of sunlight left on the bedding, which dissolve, little by little, into nothingness as the large star goes down, saying goodbye. It’s lightweight, the atmosphere—homely almost. And much to your surprise, you feel relatively at ease, despite the fact a man lies on top of you—a man you have a certain liking for. 

It was natural for you to end up here and you, yourself, wished for it, even. Deemed it was only right after the man took you around for a walk while his silly Doberman guarded each and every step both of you had taken in sync, especially so when he persisted in buying you a small plastic ring of the same bunny you’re lying against. He didn’t even forget about his own canine friend waiting outside patiently like the obedient dog he is, and fed him the snackies he got for him as soon as he returned from the shop. You swore Bam was as giddy as you when he received his gift. 

Now the ring glints in the last rays of the sun. His, too. 

While yours is as white as the cloudy morning sky, Jungkook’s is as black as the drowsily dozing night sky. You think it’s the perfect contrast between the pair of you. Not that you should be noting these things, considering you’re just friends. But his skin is satiny soft, painted in impressionist tattoos, while his muscles, that his well-fitted T-shirt graciously allows you to see, are strong. You’re sure he could just lift you and throw you around without much of a strain. And it certainly doesn’t help that he’s such a striking image of pure beauty. How could you not notice these intertwinings when they’re this lovely?

You like him—without a shadow of doubt. Can feel the call of an emotional attachment forming the more he studies your skin with the tip of his index finger, embellished with the Miffy ring, and it’s owed to the fact you’ve never been touched this way before. No one has ever come this close, no one has ever been interested in the moles scattered upon your shoulders, in the veins that make the pathway to the column of your neck. No one has ever gazed twice at them—but Jungkook?

He hasn’t stopped looking at them ever since he laid you down in the middle of his bed. 

How could you stop such a call? Such a lull, such a magnetic pull. You know you should, but for the meantime, you simply don’t want to. Can’t lose this moment, can’t lose this once in a lifetime opportunity—

Jungkook presses his lips against the prominent mole in the center of your left shoulder. Those pretty, puffy lips, closing against your skin, the smallest dart of tongue swiping past. It shocks you for a moment before the feeling dissolves beneath, adjusting within the freshness of your system. How could you refuse such dynamic poetry, expressed against your own forlorn body? When it’s so blatant that it’s natural, that your body willingly accepts it without a fight. 

You couldn’t. 

Stretching your fingers between the thick strands of his hair, you close your eyes to savor the feeling of being wanted. The movement of his mouth, going even as far as to the first vein rooted in your arm—following it with those half-closed pillows. Up, up until he finds the line of your collarbone. Jungkook pauses there, simply breathes against you before he interperses little pecks there, nibbles and gentle swipes of tongue. The lining of your top won’t let him go further down, so he changes direction—relies on the pathway of your veins to guide him to your neck. And there… at the first contact, you grip the roots of his hair. 

His kisses and nibbles are much harder here. And what’s worse, he takes the sensitive skin into his mouth and sucks. You fail at containing the whimpers that break out of your mouth and Jungkook reacts to them. Hums ever so deeply, rocks his hips against the mattress. You wish you were a bit bigger so you could feel the collision, but you’re just so small compared to his large form. You imagine he’s writing down the poems collecting inside of him with each cursive roll of his tongue. Wonder if there’s enough paper on your skin for all his words. 

“You sweet little thing,” Jungkook coos onto the crook of your neck, dragging his lips up and down before he stops at your jaw. You feel the warmth of his breath and his body heat seeps into yours, creating unity, blackening the ink. It feels strange, it feels so new. Brisk and springlike, like fresh air in a stuffed room. You want to stay here for a long time, tasting the wholeness of spring captured in him. You want his words to flush you red with the tinge of the entire sunlight that opens the buds of flowers during all seasons in a loop. “Can I kiss you?”

You haven’t gone beyond the innocent touching of hands with him. You brim with a tight feeling of thankfulness that he asked you such a graceful question, although something else steals your attention entirely. 

“Little?” you say, the smile on your lips pulled so taut that it quivers ever so slightly. It makes you crazy that he calls you that, but you play the game. Revel in it. “What do you mean little? I’m bigger than you.”

Jungkook cocks his brow at you, mouth falling into a lopsided grin. He sits back and you feel a whiff of coldness pass by the perimeter of your body, as if someone opened the window and let the winter air in, when it’s just his brief distance that caused it. The forming attachment in you tenses and before you can think about your actions, your hand finds his knee, his thigh and traces slow patterns there. Jungkook suddenly squeezes your waist, surprising you, and the ecstatic fluttering of butterfly wings break havoc all over your body. The solidness of his hands, their weight, their firmness, giving life to your body, meaning. You note how his fingers touch when he has his hands enveloped around you like that. And the inkling that your body matters in his hands like that slips into your mind, spreading through its axis. 

You bite your lower lip. A small ache begins to grow in your intimate parts. It’s so nice to be wanted, to be considered good enough to be touched, to be kissed. 

“You? Bigger than me?” Jungkook squeezes your waist again. Sucks in a breath through his teeth. Smiles softly; in a way that you find unbearably endearing. “No, you’re just little. Just a tiny, little bug. So tiny in my hands.” 

For the breath he inhaled, you exhale it. 

He leaves his hands there when he bends over you, hovering his lips over yours. His weight, his heat. You sigh against him in relief, in a newly blossoming excitement that he’s back again. You spread your legs wider, feet grazing his calves—

“Let me kiss you, please.” 

You’d give in, but the game is just so pleasurable. 

Your laugh is but a breath. “You wanna kiss me?” 

You exhaled, he inhaled. 

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Since when do friends kiss?” You cock your eyebrow at him just like he did, prodding your tongue on the inside of your cheek. 

He hovers a little bit higher above you, hanging his head in defeat, sighing. Places his hands in fists on either side of you, caging you in. 

“Premium friends do,” he mutters, lifting his head, face all serious. You dig your toe into the toned muscle of his thigh, twirling sweet little circles, gliding up and down. Watch as his eyes lid and he tries to control it. “Don’t do that or I’ll fuck you.” 

Your body panics, but you will it to relax. 

“Does that come with the premium subscription?” 

Jungkook purses his lips, supports his weight on one hand as the other, the tattooed one, grips your jaw. He squishes your cheeks, bites his lip once—seemingly ponders whether he should play your game or not before he lets go of your pout, but still keeps his hand there. He traces the shape of your lips with this thumb, feeding his desire to kiss you with scraps. 

“Yes,” he utters. “Kisses, orgasms, my dog. It’s all—”

Orgasms, not just sex. Orgasms. 

“I get to take Bam?” 

Jungkook tuts at you. “You get to take me,” he corrects you. “Though, can even such a little thing like you take me?” 

Probably not. Definitely not. 

“But what about Bam?” 

He looks at you as if he couldn’t believe the words you’re saying, turning his head slightly to hear you better. Then, he scoffs, running his tongue across his lips swiftly, letting them express the enjoyment of your provocation by stretching into a smirk. He places his hand back on the right side of you, thinking over his words. 

“Bam is mine, but you can pet him. You can kiss him.” You can hear the feigned venom in that word as he spits it and you grin, pleased with yourself. You enjoy doing this to him. “And if you’re good, I’ll let you take him out for his walkies.” 

You gasp slowly, fingers absentmindedly gripping his thigh. Butterflies buzz you with a mere hint of arousal and to convey it, you wet your top lip with the tip of your tongue. The dominance, the principle of proving to him whether you’re deserving of something. Your heartbeat quickens, reaching for him with each swell. 

Oh, you’ll be good. You’ll be good until he’s sick of it. 

It seems he’s as pleased with himself as you were with yourself, reading your body language as he beams down at you, dimples poking holes in his cheeks. You want to stick your fingers there, pinch the skin at the corners of his mouth. Feel them, kiss them—

“Deal.” 

Jungkook blinks at you. He most likely expected you to be difficult. You like the look of surprise on him. A sweet kind of glint perches itself upon his irises. You’re at awe of how he manages to be so adorable and alluring at the same time. You could never understand it. You deem he must be otherworldly. 

“A kiss to seal the deal?” he tries, raising his brows, lowering himself to his elbows. 

He skims his lips across your cheek, descending to your neck. Places one, singular kiss there. Lifts his head to hear your answer, a soft curtain of hair falling across his forehead. 

You make a face as if you’re thinking about it. 

Jungkook groans. 

It’s cold, the way he turns away from you and it startles you—but then he slides his hands under your back and lifts you with ease, sitting you down on his lap. He moves you from the muscles on his thighs to the hardness of his intimate parts and you groan at the feeling of it. You’re wearing an airy short skirt with tights and knee socks underneath, the barrier so thin that you feel the solid, thick shape of him right under your femininity. 

You rock against him once. Jungkook lets out a sound akin to yours, fingers flexing—hands almost reaching for your behind before he decides against it and keeps them planted against your back. 

He desires your consent. And that makes you feel light-headed. Tipsy on the wholeness of him, on the pleasure coursing through your body. 

You rock your hips again—and this time, Jungkook whimpers. 

You take your hands and, slowly, you make a pathway down his chiseled chest. He twitches against you when your fingers pass by his nipples, his body following and squirming along. And once you reach the definition of his abdomen, your hands rise and fall against its quickening movement as his lungs heave. You’re mesmerized by his reaction to your touch. It’s as if it was his first time as well and something about that makes you woozy, savage and absolutely feline. 

And something about the way you’re allowed to do as you please, whereas he’s not, strengthens that state of mind, enriches it, thoroughly worsens it. 

You want him. 

It began with a ring and ended right here. 

And the process of your decision starts at his hips, finalizes at the pebbles of his nipples and finishes completely at the sides of his neck. He gives you the same, if not better, reaction, his manhood moving against you, and it’s settled. 

The giving of virginity to seal the deal, not just a kiss. 

Hovering your lips against his, you slip your hand to the place where you’re connected to feel up the shape of him. You moan onto him, vigorous power seizing you, propelling you to wrap your fingers around him. The breaths Jungkook emits are desperate, tortured, wafting over you, intoxicating you. It fills you with confidence unlike any other that you’re able to coax such a thing of beauty out of him—that you, the artist, have the upper hand momentarily while he doesn’t. 

And he waits, depends on you. You want to cry due to how happy it makes you, due to the way it suffuses an empty part of you, left abandoned by someone who should’ve taken care of it a long, long time ago. 

Because of that—if it’s kisses that he wants, you’ll give him as many as his body desires as a thank you. 

“You’re so hard against me,” you whisper. 

Jungkook grips your waist hard. 

“If you want it, you have to seal the deal,” he mimics your intonation, voice deep, tingling your tummy. 

“I want it.” You clutch both of your hands on his jawline, thumbs finding the invisible dimples. 

“Kiss me, then.” 

You whimper at the longing to do so. Your tummy clenches, butterflies inside swarm around and—

When you close your lips against his top lip, they burst into smithereens. Jungkook sighs in relief, enveloping you in his warmth. 

The kiss is hungry. You expected his first taste of you to be careful, contemplative, but he goes all in. Takes charge of the lip lock, swallowing you whole, moving against you, uttering low sounds that make your head spin and you just comply. Accept that you’re the one who submits to his craving and you find yourself liking it; find yourself wanting to deepen your submission. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, your head tilted as you reciprocate all of those hard kisses. When he comes up for air, he just gazes down at you, out of breath. One hand still on your back, the other cradles your cheek. There’s something puzzling in his eyes, as if he was fighting something within. You’re radiated by that energy, heavied down by it, letting him pet you like a puppy while you wait for the next step. 

“You’re so good that I’m considering letting you take Bam out,” he breathes, curling a wisp of your hair behind your ear. “Sweet little thing.” 

He pecks you once. You grind against his manhood and as he shortly groans onto your mouth, you splutter into giggles. Behind you, as if he heard him, the dog peeks his head out of the door, giving his Daddy a questioning look. Jungkook chuckles. 

“Bam, house.” 

The dog leaves and Jungkook sinks his fingers into your hair, sighing. Kisses you, again without tongue—only does what you’ve allowed him, but you overflow with the desire for more. He’s so considerate, so respectful and while you’re grateful for it, you want to break it. Your trust in him, made whole by all that he’s done for you, settled within you, made a bed in the sensitive parts of you that now shine. He doesn’t need to remain there—you want to go beyond that. 

“Touch me, please.” You look up into his eyes as you say it, willing them to see with all your energy how much you want him. 

He rubs soothing circles on your back. “If I touch you, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.” 

You lift your butt ever so slightly and bounce down on him, your skirt furling. Jungkook moans, pleasing you to the core. It’s bratty of you, but it serves him right for being so stubborn, so firm in his control. You want to break him. 

“Can’t you see how much I want that?” you purr, bunching the cotton of his T-shirt in your fists. 

He merely shakes his head, licking his lower lip, fucking with you. He tugs on one of your braided pigtail, the other hand gliding to your hipbone. “This little girl is horny? I couldn’t tell.” 

A yellow light, sleepy in nature, spills through the blinds, latching onto the side of your neck. His eyes flick to it and his teeth sink into the wetness of his lip. He looks back at you when he says, “what was it that made you horny? The neck kisses?” 

He straps both of his hands to your hipbones now, adjusting you so your sweetest spot rests against his cock, rocking your hips like he wants them to. He swallows down his noises, makes room for yours. You figure he wants to hear them. 

You think about what made you horny. His respectful behavior. An electric spark spasms in your core at the memory and you roll your body against his at the impact—nipples pebbled, grazing below the hardness of his pecks. You moan loudly. He breathes heavily, can’t for the life of him contain that, gripping you with strength that will surely leave bruises. You add it to the list. 

His control—the momentary, delicious lack of it, too. The dominance that follows it. His noises and how unrestrained he is when it comes to them. The allure and the attractive charm of his looks, blended with that insufferable cutesiness. His hard cock. The neck kisses, too, of course. 

You summarize your answer and you tell him, “you.” 

A hitch in his throat. “Fuck.” 

Fuck, indeed. Fuck the steady rhythm—Jungkook speeds up your movement, the pace so fast your pigtails and your ribbons bounce, tits following suit. Your breath falls in step, moans echo within the walls of his room. He kisses you harshly, but that doesn’t silence you. He swallows your noises down, grunting. 

“You wanna know what made me hard for you?” 

You nod your head, lips forming a natural pout at the loss of contact. 

“Those fucking pigtails of yours. The knee socks. How tiny you are in my hands. Seeing you lose your fucking mind when I kissed your neck. Those marks I left behind, hm, fuck yes. Those marks made me crazy,” he mutters, staring you down. “And you know what else?” 

You wait for his answer as white flashes blind you, your roaring orgasm beckoning you close. He doesn’t stop rocking you against him, not once. Fills your brain with emptiness with his words coated wet by his dominant energy. You feel your own wetness soaking the fabric of your panties. 

“Your brattiness,” he says. “I want to fuck it out of you and make a good girl out of you that won’t misbehave again with her smart words.” 

A faint part of you, half affected by the pleasure he gives you, arises to stand up for you. “But I was good and you said so.” 

He clicks his tongue, disapprovingly shaking his head. Slows down the pace so you’re able to hear him loud and clear, your orgasm backing away. “You see the thing is with little bratty girls like you, even when they act good for me, there’s still that dark little side of them that hides. Unless I fuck it out of them, they play with me. And trust me, I like the game until I don’t.” 

You frown at him, but a moan betrays you. A fight throngs inside of you, his dominance yet again permeating you, causing you to flourish, but on the other hand, you don’t like being added to the mix. You want to be the only one—and it makes you angry that he had someone like you before you, that he even said it altogether. Though unfortunately, that’s something you can only keep to yourself. 

The forming attachment breaks, splitting into two, with the knowledge that your wish is futile. You understand he said it for the sake of the role-play that you both naturally, wordlessly established through sexual attraction, but you still have a lot of getting used to within the dynamic. He’s experienced, you’re not. Though, when you think about it, he doesn’t know a thing about your purity. You never told him. 

You blame yourself for your own pain. It’s your fault—you should’ve had a conversation with him about it before you let him do anything to you, instead of playing flirty games with him. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt, if he knew you were a virgin. The thought of what you’ve done stains you, makes you feel filthy, but you will it to kneel inside of you like a wounded animal. You need to be strong if you don’t want to storm out of his room in tears. 

No attachment, no liking. 

Just sex. 

There’s still a frown to your face, despite the fact you set yourself free with your decision. Jungkook chuckles at it, oblivious to your internal storm. 

“You didn’t like that, did you?” You didn’t like being compared to other girls he’d been with; there’s nothing to be said of the like about the role-play aspect. Being called bratty did rouse a moan out of you. “You prove my words right.” 

You roll your eyes. Jungkook grips your ass hard and spanks you. As the sting reverberates, along with it comes the realization you got what you wanted. 

You broke him. 

And now you have to face the repercussions. 

Good thing you’ve sobered up from the stupefaction of your arousal. 

You cradle his face and kiss him deeply in effort to change the narrative. No feeling of affection from earlier hangs upon your heart and you find that it’s easier like this. No strings, no pain. It relieves you—so much that you sense a layer of lightness to your body and tiny, manageable tears well in your eyes. You get to enjoy this after all. 

There’s radiance to your eyes, rooted in hope, and true softness to your words when you say, “I want you to fuck it out of me. I want you to be my first.” 

You want to be different—your pride is uninfluenced by your decision. If he fucks it out of you, the new narrative you’re longing for will fully take place and make living through this bearable. You know you can’t have him the way you’d like, but if fate wrote that you’re to have him this way—you don’t mind altering it to the little desires you’re allowing yourself to have. 

Once in a lifetime opportunity. You can’t lose it. 

Jungkook is left astounded by your words, eyes widening, shock evident on his features. Like your words, he softens, unclenching his fingers from your suppleness, the darkness in his irises making a way for gentleness to come through. He rubs the small of your back, hands ascending to your spine, feeling the clip of your bra, until he finds the nape of your neck. He holds you there, tenderly, as if you were a porcelain doll he now was careful not to break. 

The change in his demeanor is stark. It surprises you as well—and like everything that has happened within the hour, it isn’t something you expected from him. The emotion that emerges from the roundness of his eyes touches the hardness of your decision, tries to get through, pokes a gap inside, letting the light in. 

He tucks his darkness back inside. Strokes the back of your head, the silky ends of your ribbons sifting through his slender fingers. You relax against him and your body does it for you. It welcomes his tenderness, glad for the truth to be out. You fight against it—against yourself, willing your decision not to break but remain firm. 

No strings, no pain.

But to no avail. The light spreads. His light. Celestial twinkles of stars, small parts of him that make him who he is. 

“You’ve never had anyone before me?” he husks, regret glossing over his eyes, holding your head firmly as he awaits your answer. More stars spill like liquid. 

You shake your head ‘no’, your chest tightening. 

He kisses you and there’s something different about the way he does it. Now you can sense the carefulness you searched for earlier and you taste the primal core of loving care in the movement of his lips. The kisses are long, deep. As if you’re a different person now, a girl unlike any of the ones he mentioned. Someone who matters, someone who’s solid. You’re back at the beginning. 

A lump forms in your throat. 

“You sure about this?” he asks. 

One part of you, greater and illuminated by his stars, wants it gently like this, with flowers of innocence and purity besprinkled across his features, never leaving you out of his sight, taking care of you. But you fear that if you allow him to be tender, your heart will choose him again and cling to his side. The other, more faint part of you, affected by your decision, thinks it’s better to stick to the role-play, for there’s the aspect of illusoriness that will not bruise anyone’s hearts, especially not yours. It will make you horny, Jungkook will get you off and, glowing, you’ll go home.

You can’t decide. It’s too much of a heavy weight to bear on your shoulders. You can’t do it.

You need him to say the word. You need him to decide what will be the face of the trajectory of your premium friendship. 

Flowery or deceitful? 

A small candlelight in you hopes for gentleness and purity before your fear unfairly puffs it out. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I want you.” 

Jungkook lays you down and, at last, you feel his manhood against you. He bends to pepper apologetic kisses along the column of your neck and you feel the authenticity of his regret, thrumming against you warmly. Your breath hitches in your throat, the principle of the candlelight in you not being a high hope after all—

“I’m sorry. I should’ve gone about this better.” A kiss to your cheek; you stifle your sobs. “I should’ve checked in with you, but I jumped straight in. This was a mistake on my part. I’m sorry.”

He blames himself, not you. 

You want to remain stoic, but his authenticity beckons yours to come out and envelop him whole, gives access to your emotions and you can’t stop the miniature teardrop from flowing down the side of your nose. Neither can you stop the words that follow its footsteps. 

“I should’ve told you first,” you whisper, sniffling. Jungkook furrows his brows at the expression of your pain in tender emotion, wiping it away. “But I was bad—reckless.” 

He chuckles softly, caressing your hair. “You’re an angel. Sent to my side for me. You weren’t bad. I didn’t mean what I'd said.” 

His words, his touch, the kiss he adds to your cheek to punctuate his sentence—Jungkook erases everything that has just happened. 

Newness rushes in your chest, the pouring of spring into summer permeates your whole being. You hear the birds sing, the rustle of flimsy flower petals on tree branches as the warm wind grazes it with its touch. Jungkook seals this feeling by pressing a kiss to your sternum. 

He said it, so it must be so. You trust him. 

The firmness of the cage around your decision unlatches. Doesn’t fly away like the birds. Is a little bit afraid of peeking out. The candlelight returns to light up the room around that cage, blossoming into the sun. 

“We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to,” he says, looking up at you from the place where he dragged your top down to kiss your skin. 

The sun rays in you absorb all of the darkness. The firmness extends one wing. 

You run your fingers through his hair. Figure the only thing the summer in you is missing is the heat. You want him, you want sex and you don’t want to think about feelings or consequences. You don’t want to choose between anything anymore. You just want to enjoy yourself. 

“I meant it when I said that I want you to be my first,” you say, fingers curling around his ear. Jungkook leans into your touch and it’s as if he’s massaging the wing to alleviate it from a cramp due to being tucked in for so long. 

“Okay,” he sighs, taking your hands and pinning them on the pillow and bunny above your head. He sits up, examines you and you wonder if he can see how truly fragile you feel. “Do you trust me?” 

He’s had half a year of going out with you, mingling his life with yours, spending money on you and treating you like an absolute treasure to build your overall trust. And what he did just now? How he erased your pain? Your nod is immediate; you don’t need to think twice. 

“Of course I trust you.” 

“Good.” A soft smile. “I’ll make sure your first time will be beautiful for you.” 

Your heart thuds. His words steal all the breath in your lungs, smoothing out the surface of your body for his stars to fill. Tears prick at your waterline. 

“Are you scared?” 

You’re an empty canvas. 

“Not anymore.” 

Jungkook nods, gladness pulsating off of him. “I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t leave you, not even once, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

He finds the zipper on the side of your skirt and yanks it down. “How many times do you wanna come?” 

The ridiculousness of the question makes you laugh and you hide your face beneath your palms. “To be honest, I don’t expect to come at all. It is my first time after all.” 

You marvel at the honesty seeping out of you. His work, no doubt. 

Jungkook frowns, ridding you of the skirt, fingers hooking under the hem of your top. At the reveal of your pink, flowery, see-through bra, he stops altogether, stunned. He fondles the material, grazing over your soft nipples, at last reaching the embroidery of the small petals. He gasps in wonder, eyes flicking to your intimate parts to see if you’re wearing a matching set. 

The same flowers adorn the suppleness of your tummy. 

Jungkook smiles at his discovery. Is hasty as he drags the nylon of your tights down your legs, along with your knee socks. 

“I’ll decide how many times you come for me, then.” 

Heat pools in your femininity. There it is, the dominance that you love. Yet this time, it’s laced with his gentleness. Heaven on earth—a meadow full of flowers in the middle of summer. Like the ones on your lingerie. 

Joy grasps your heart. “Do I get to know before you start?” 

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss on your tummy. “What, you wanna count them down for me?” 

You asked just because, but the idea excites you. You nod. 

Your response prolongs the rumble of his laughter and you feel its vibration as he kisses his way up to your clothed breasts. You’d think he’d focus his attention on them, but he straightens—reaches for something behind him and retrieves your white knee socks. He bunches them in his hands and puts them on you as if he were dressing a child. 

Paradoxically, goosebumps spread all over your thighs. 

Smoothing the material over your thighs, he lies back down against you, lips latching on the spillage of your breasts that your bra gives him. While it feels dizzying, you still want to know the number. You poke him in the bulging muscle of his arm and in the process, you flush his cheeks red. 

Jungkook pushes your tits together and licks over the line in the middle. The sight of the shine of his wet tongue against it drenches your pussy, ruining your pretty underwear, and you want him there, on your sweetest spot. Your nipples stand to attention and Jungkook listens to their call, thumbs brushing across them. 

You mewl, grinding your hips against his stomach. 

“Two times when I eat you out; two times around my cock,” he answers finally, awakening your butterflies. “How many times is that, then?” 

Amidst the pleasure, you do the math. “Four.” 

“That’s right. You think you can do that for me?” 

You’re not sure. In fact, you’re not sure of anything—lost in his touch, in his energy. 

“I don’t know,” you say, truthfully, skimming his face for a sliver of disappointment in his features. 

You find none. Only tenderness—round, soft eyes, brown in the light he radiates, nose and mouth buried in your tits, sucking on the skin, making you feel good. 

“That’s okay. We’ll try together. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you if you don’t come as many times. Or at all. I promise.” 

Your chest clenches. You grab his face and kiss him, licking over his bottom lip before you slip your tongue inside. Jungkook grunts, rolls his own muscle over yours, tasting you, feeling you. He inhales sharply against you, once again taking charge of the kiss, taking each and every thought and negative feeling you had and crushing it to smithereens. 

He lifts you and switches places with you, sitting you down on his lap with your back supported by his chest. He roams his hands all over you—tits, tummy, hips, sides and thighs while he busies his mouth on your shoulder. As your eyes follow each movement, you notice the marks he embellished your breasts with and your arousal grows—so much that you take his wandering hands and hook them under the waistband of your underwear, guiding them down your thighs. 

There’s a change to his breath when his index and middle finger feels up the fleshiness of your cunt for the first time. Hard, raggedy and absolutely tormented. He glides those digits up and down your dewiness, listening for the squelching sound that makes his cock twitch beneath you. 

He moans onto your neck, nose tracing the column on its way to your ear.  “How do you touch yourself?” 

A sudden shyness overtakes you and you turn your head, needing to hide in his neck this time. You remain silent, the words lodged in your throat. 

Jungkook sees you. 

“Do you rub your little clit from side to side or in circles?” he questions, helping you answer. 

“I—I like both,” you whisper onto his skin, moving your hips so his fingers slip to your clit, the sweet spot where you need him the most. He grabs the back of your thigh and lifts it, spreading you open, meanwhile you chase the firmness of his fingers.

“Just like that, ride them,” he husks, eyes dazed, fixed on the roll of your pelvis. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” 

Head on top of yours, you nod, never ceasing your movement, transfixed, just like him, by the constant way the pads of his fingers fondle your clit before dipping between your lips. The heat of the summer tightens in your lower belly and it’s a desperate litany of begging what your mouth utters, despite the fact you’re not really sure what you’re asking for, but you let him hear it. You’re close, so unbelievably close, yet still have a road to walk on before you, and you close your eyes to feel the delight of his touch more deeply, only to find that you manage to do nothing of the kind. 

When you sense his eyes on you and by instinct you reciprocate his stare, that’s when you feel the depth you sought after. Mouth parted, pupils dilated, eyelashes a drowsy catastrophe, messy hair casting a soft shadow over the planes of his blissed-out face. You want to kiss him. You want to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel—

“Let me do it now,” Jungkook says hurriedly, sensing the nearness of your climax. 

“Yes,” you croak out, halting the movement of your hips—and ‘yes’ is the word that ripples out of your mouth a hundred, a thousand more times when he spreads you wider and rubs his fingers on your clit from side to side. 

He feels the pleasure in sync with you, accepting all of your yes’, twisting his face the moment yours does, quickening the rapidness of his hand once he switches to circles to carry you to your summer-breathed paradise. 

And when you come all over his hand, he slips two fingers inside your hole.

He stills the buck of your hips. 

You widen your eyes at the new feeling of fullness and, panicking and constricting around him, you look at Jungkook, who merely strengthens his hold around you. 

“Trust me,” he says, breathing heavily. He doesn’t move his fingers past his first knuckles; he lets you adjust to the size. Gives you a kiss full of tongue to distract you. “Does it burn?”

You begin to pant against his mouth, the high of your orgasm long gone. You’re uncertain to count it as one when it was so short lived, ruined by the sudden plunge of his digits. But much to your surprise, you don’t detect any burn in your walls that he speaks of, which you realize was his intention.

“No, it just feels a bit uncomfortable.” 

He kisses you again. You feel your lips go numb, eyes lidding at the pressure you feel as he sinks his fingers a little bit deeper and begins to move them sluggishly, your slick creating another ring for him around his fingers. You try to meet his thrusts as the visceral sensation of being filled by longer, thicker fingers settles within you and takes roots. You discover that movement is the key to parting the uncomfortable feeling and it steps to the side to let the pleasure walk forward.  

Jungkook presses his palm flat against your clit, guides the pleasure to envelop your body when he plunges his fingers deeper, past the second knuckles and fucks you in swift jerks. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan and he fills in the sound, expressing his fiery delight for you at the clench of your walls against him, accommodating for him, for his desire to stretch you out, so when he finally enters you, no pain comes to greet you. 

Deeper and harder—yes, that’s what feels good. You roll your body, becoming waves of the sea as wetness and the build up of pleasure—seafoam—is all your senses wrap around. 

“Feels good, baby?” 

His need to check in with you speeds up the nearing expansion of your orgasm. Pointer and pinky finger digging into the skin of your backside, you watch the in and out motion, the digits coming out wetter and wetter each time.

“Feels so fucking good. I’m gonna come. I’m so close.” 

It’s quicker. Way quicker than your first tiny orgasm. He slips in and out of you so smoothly—you’re obsessed with the sight, ravaged by it entirely. You grind your hips and fuck yourself back, picking up the pace but slowing down instantly when you feel yourself at the peak of your climax.

You want to prolong it. You love the feeling too much to end it too soon.

Jungkook stops your movements fully.

“I want to be the one who makes you come,” he murmurs. “I want to be the one who fucks your brain out. I want to feel you squeeze around my fingers. Fuck, I want it so bad.” 

His hand drifts to your neck just to hold you there, the other, the busy one, fingers you harder, your fast approaching orgasm blinding your senses. Your drenched cunt squelches around him, the sound so lewd it causes you to seek comfort—your hand flies to his on your throat, fingers wrapping around his wrist, the tip of your pointer reaching the fat bulb of bunny’s head on his ring. 

Harder and faster. A scalding fire burns you and you just take it. Loll your head back against his shoulder, giving him the space to grip your jawline. Flames grow closer and closer, leaving a layer of sheen on your body in its wake. You feel the sudden need to pee.

“Oh my god, Gguk—” Your muscles tense. Close, so close. “Gguk, Gguk—”

“What, baby? What’s the matter?” he husks, squeezing your neck once. “You’re gonna come for me? Gonna come on my fingers?” 

You nod quickly, too quickly. Flames of the sun, licking you. Flames of the summer heat. Just what you wanted. 

Jungkook opens your jaw, swirling his tongue around yours. “Let go. Come for me. You can do it, I got you—I got you. Come for me, baby, please.”

Obeying his desperate order, you do.

A small stream of your pleasure, a faint fountain, trickles out of you and into his hand. He gasps, in unison with your whimpers, and you’re transmitted elsewhere. The wildly colorful, blooming meadow on a hill, overlooking the languorous sea and he’s there. Reaches behind himself. Offers you his hand. The wind ruffles his black hair, sweeps it back and you’re giddy—as giddy as Bam, as giddy as you were in the moment the slid the white bunny ring on your finger—to take the last two of his slender fingers, the pinky and the ring, and sit with him by the edge of the cliff. 

“Did so well for me.” 

The whisper takes you back and you awake. 

You’re different. Incandescent. Of life, of stars and its light, of growing fondness for the man you sit perched on the lap of, whose fingers still remain sheathed inside of you. He changed you. Perpetually, absolutely. He changed you and made you into something new. Something that is softer, more elegant—smaller but assertive. Alluring and kind. Indisputably good. 

He fucked everything negative out of you with his fingers. Left the vast canvas of stars inside of you.

You’re no longer a plain spread of cotton, but a living, breathing artwork. His artwork.

Once he fucks you with his cock, you wonder what further internal changes are going to occur within you.

You feel a great deal of gratitude for him—and you want to reciprocate all that he’s done for you. You want to work hard at it. Spoil him. Make him whimper. You believe he deserves it.   

“You finger yourself often? How come you took my fingers so well, hm?” 

You’re panting, unable to speak. Absorbing the sharpness of the stars, acclimatizing to the change. 

“I guess you do, huh?” he deduces. “Good little girl, preparing herself for me.” 

For the life of you, you can’t catch your breath.

Jungkook kisses your cheek deeply. Pecks you on the same spot a hundred times, slowly taking out his fingers. Lets you see your slick coating his fingers and, softly, you gasp at the little ripples of wrinkles upon the tips of his fingers, mouth parting.

And then he sinks them into your mouth. 

His hardness twitches behind you and you moan, your daintily bittersweet taste making your head spin. And when you look at him, you’re met with the utmost pink-dusted adoration painted on his face. You kiss it, inhaling it, letting it flow into your system so it suffuses your bloodstream, letting him taste you. You may not feel your lips, but the sentient poetry of the stars begins to sing in you. His stars. You feel like a flushed floweret visited by a bee. Spent, but happy. 

Happy to be wanted.

Good, because he said you were.

As if internally intertwined with him, you feel the identical heat tinge your cheeks. 

He says nothing as he lays you down and spreads your legs back to the way they were. Though when he’s graced with the sight of your bare cunt in all her glory, his face says everything that his mouth isn’t capable of. Hunger and torture—lips agape, corners of the mouth shiny with the rush of drool and Jungkook wipes it away, then lowers his fingers to your clit, to your lips, becoming more acquainted with this intimate part of you that no one had seen before him. He traces your small hole, even going as far as to your other, tinier hole and you yelp, stopping his exploration. 

Jungkook merely chuckles, eyes darting to yours. “You’re so pretty.” You grow so hot that you think you must be on fire. “Especially there.” 

You mewl, shrinking, hands looking for anything to hold and finding his bunny plushie. You take her into your arms, inhaling a scent that could never be hers. You recognize immediately whose it is. 

Musk, vanilla, wood. 

The thought of Jungkook cradling her while he sleeps moves you and you pout. 

“How we feeling?” he asks, still caressing your fleshy cunt, dripping with dew. 

Overjoyed. Overstimulated.

Heavenly.

“Good.” 

A foxy smile. “How many orgasms was that, hm?” 

You don’t know where your shyness comes from and why it chokes all of the words you want to say. You bury your face in bunny for a moment, taking a breath to fight against it, so you can please him because that’s all you yearn to do. 

You open your mouth, but no words come out. 

Jungkook stifles a laugh and it makes you feel terrible. And it’s worse when he leans over to kiss you, turns his head at the last moment and faces bunny.

“Bunny, how many times did she come?” he asks her, offering her his ear to hear her answer. Looks at you. Widens his eyes. Gasps. “Two,” he mouths. Listens some more. Nods. “I know she thought she wouldn’t come at all. Crazy, right?” Then he lets out an endearing sound. “She said she’d believed you could do it the moment you said it. She’s so happy for you. How cute,” he coos. 

You giggle, the bridge in your throat loosening, light flooding you, over and over, until you think you can’t take any more of it. You feel so full, so happy and the sensation threatens to pour out of your tear ducts. 

It heals something within you—that he treats you like this at your most vulnerable state. Your inner child flares, the stars the strength that fixes her stoop, helping her arise, stand straight, stand powerfully. 

He smiles down fondly at you. “So what number are we at?” 

You hide your face behind your hands. “Two.” 

“What did you say? I didn’t catch that.” 

You drop your hands and with as much energy as you can muster, you repeat the number. 

He purrs, caressing your cheek. “Good girl.” As a reward, as if the praise wasn’t enough, he kisses you deeply. “Will you let me taste you?” 

You swallow his desire, but speak up your own, “I want to taste you first, please.” 

Jungkook hums, curses under his breath. He straightens and kneels before your form, fingers pinching the back of his T-shirt and pulling it over his body. You catch the sight of his broad shoulders, of each dip and muscle, and your irises grown in width. Him ridding himself of his clothes dishevels his hair and as he untangles his arms from the material, he smiles down at you, noticing your stare. 

He caresses the back of your thigh before his hand flies to his hard length. He palms himself once, then continues to undress—tugs his sweatpants down to his knees, though he doesn’t bother himself to fully take them off. The shape of him is more prominent through the fabric of his white Calvins, the bulge of his mushroom wet and pellucid, and you sit up, hand itching to touch him, to join his in making him feel good, but he cups your chin—forcing you to look up at him. 

He swipes his thumb over your lips. “You want it?” 

You nod. “So bad.” 

Jungkook curses again, the sound low and rough. 

“Touch it,” he orders and both of your hands listen, wrapping around his girth, squeezing beneath the head of his cock. The thickness of him makes you see the light of the stars that you sense fluttering feverishly inside of you. Your mind is too empty, too washed out by your orgasm, by the change that you don’t even think about how you’re going to take him. Jungkook hisses, tilting his head back before he looks down at you intently. “You did this before?” 

You’ve never seen one in real life before, let alone touched one.

“I’ve never let anyone get this close.” 

Jungkook strokes your pigtails. “How come you know what to do then?” 

Instinct or memory from porn you watched—you don’t know, it all blends together within the fuzziness of your mind. And you tell him.

“I watch a lot of porn.” 

Jungkook smiles coyly and it strikes you. You’ve never seen him smile this way before or, even, feel this way before. All you know from him is dominance, dominance and dominance. 

You release him from the confines of his boxers and repress your gasp. His ever glistening tip reaches just below his navel and the thickness of his girth obscures most of his pubic hair. Along with the sound of your surprise, you also have a hard time swallowing the saliva collecting in your mouth. 

“I want you so bad,” you whisper, needy eyes looking up at him. Shy, too shy to let your gaze linger at the most intimate part of him. 

He sucks in a breath at your words, hissing. And you need him inside of you all over again. 

Fuck fuzzines in your mind. You’re fuzzy all over. Wrecked with nerves, suddenly. Your hands tremble, hovering in front of his manhood. Jungkook covers them with his, soothing you, and guides you to his shaft. Wraps your fingers around him. Doesn’t let go. 

The feel of him under his supervision is slow. He allows you to take in every ridge of him, every vein—the softness of his skin, the warmth and the weight. Round after round, up and down, until you get familiarized with him. A trickle of his male essence drips down the side of him and your tongue instinctively darts out. Like your hands, Jungkook’s breath shakes and he anticipates your next move, despite the fact he’s in charge. 

He’s been patient all this time, giving you the time you needed. But that hardly applies when you have him in your hands, when you own his neediness. His whimpers while he waits coax your slick out of you, soaking the bedding beneath you and you can’t take it anymore. 

Neither, evidently, can he. 

“Baby, please,” Jungkook croaks out. Tortured, so terribly tortured. Grip tight and clammy around your hands. 

So vulnerable. 

You ache. 

You lick up a stripe of his essence on the side of his cock and Jungkook shudders. Shifting onto your knees, you show him the milkie on the tip of your tongue and Jungkook pulls your hair, tilting your head back. Kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Moans, lowly. Then, he holds his girth at the base and pushes your head. 

When you take him, a mewl ripples around the thickness of him. His eyes roll back and his grasp of your hair tightens, burning your scalp, adding to the fire. He lets you feel it out; lets you figure out what to do, testing your knowledge from the porn you’ve watched. And the tensing of his stomach divulges his strained effort not to fuck your mouth. 

You go slow about it. Swirling your tongue around that rosy head of his, along that delicious ridge, licking a flat stripe across that line of his slit. Getting to know him in all those intimate places, relying on your senses—on them to tell you what he likes. Your hand begins to move on its own, gliding back and forth in tandem with your tongue stimulating his sensitivity. You try not to think about how you can barely fit him in your mouth, because if you do—you’ll ruin his bedsheets. 

But then Jungkook hums in approval, sending a gush of wetness out of you and you whimper—you whimper at the worsening ache you feel, at the helplessness that pools in your system by being just so filthily wet and horny. 

He moves your hand faster. Breath jagged, bedroom eyes zeroing down on you. And then—

Jungkook moans your name. Over and over, clenching and unclenching his hand on the back of your head. 

“Don’t have to teach you shit,” he spits. “You just watch porn all day, don’t you? Naughty girl.” 

Losing control for a split second, he rams his cock into your throat—and you don’t panic, you don’t yelp. Instead, you groan. 

He pulls you away from him with a sharp tug. Kisses you harshly. Shoves you down into the pillows with one push on your sternum.

Bending you in half, he drinks your cunt. Lips immediately suck on your needy bundle of nerves and it’s so fast you don’t even know which part of you he’s focusing on because he’s everywhere. Clit, hole, clit, hole—sucking, licking. Alternating, alternating so swiftly and deliciously that you completely lose your mind. 

And then he lifts your hips and holds them in the air, wanting you to see what he’s doing to you. Like you, he darts out his tongue and teases you, hovering the muscle above your clit. Shiny, nimble, capable of doing unspeakable things to you. He watches as your pussy drools for him and he chuckles darkly. Tongue lowering to collect it, but unlike you he never does it. He lets the dew trickle down your skin. 

“Cute little pussy. So wet. Wetter than when I fucked it. You liked playing with me on your knees, didn’t you?” 

With your fucked out brain, you don’t think it’s taunting what he’s doing. You deem it’s just him reveling in what he’s able to do to your body—in the fact that he owns it, that he teaches it new things. The glint in his dusky, lustful eyes proves it. 

Jungkook drags a long stripe on your clit, making your eyes flutter closed and your teeth to sink into your bottom lip to cage in your moans. 

“Talk to me.” 

You can’t. You don’t know how to talk. 

He stares you down. 

No answer from you. Just hard pants. Pussy drooling. 

“I won’t play with you, then.” 

Panic. “No.” 

He cocks a brow at you. “No?” 

Silence. 

He begins to lower you down but you grip his forearm. 

“Jungkook.” 

Bent over above you, head low, he merely flicks his eyes to yours. Duskiness, such blackening duskiness in those orbs. 

“Beg.” 

All your muscles tense. Wetness gushes out of you. 

Lucky for you, that word he wants is the one you haven’t forgotten. 

“Please.” 

“Please what?” 

You groan in frustration. 

“Be nice or—”

“Please, lick me.” 

That dark chuckle. You feel yourself becoming obsessed with it. 

“Where?” 

A challenge. Your throat dries up. 

“There.” 

He shakes his head disapprovingly, making a sound that expresses just how much he didn’t like that. 

“Try again. Last chance, little girl.” 

The loving smile on his face says everything about how that threat is feigned. You hear it tell you—you have as many chances as you need. He’s merely encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone. 

And something about that mellow, hidden kindness gently ushers you to do just that. 

“Lick my clit, please.” 

A hum. A long stripe on that sensitive, thumping spot. A roll of his tongue forward and backward.  

“Like this?” 

You choke out a moan. 

“Yes, please.” 

“Or—” He blows on you, causing you to tremble. “Like this?”

He shakes his head against you briskly, not yet at a full tilt. Just like his, your body shudders in his hands and he tightens his grip on your supple hips. You can’t take it, the pleasure is overwhelming and—

“Look at me,” he orders and you open your eyes, immediately. “Like this?” 

Jungkook adds more pressure and rapidness to the movement, leaving you glazed sweetly in the sheen of his saliva. He moves your hips up and down on the firmness of his tongue and you scream, taking a strong hold of his hair.

“Oh my god, yes, fuck, Daddy—”

Shocked, Jungkook groans against your pussy, slowing down to ingest what your mouth has just uttered. It’s more than natural to call him by a title like this, instinctual, innate. It fits him so well and it drenches your pussy, your slick amalgamating with his liquid love. You’re certain he feels the rush.

Your Daddy. 

You roll your hips against his tongue. Dark and more dark, those eyes of his. Bottomless pit.

“Fuck yes, call me Daddy again.” 

The whimpers you let out are pathetic and Jungkook shudders at them, groaning. You whine the title over and over again, a verdant, dreamlike litany of your feminine sexuality pampered, cared for, supervised. Jungkook accepts the gravity of it all, each declaration propelling him to suck your clit harder, bruises forming on your hips from his deathly grip, black eyes never leaving yours, hypnotizing you. 

And when you come like this, it’s unification what happens. 

You’re bound to him and he’s bound to you. 

Daddy and little girl. 

Throughout your sexual experience today, you had a hard time accepting things but this—this is something that slept inside of you all your life and just now has been awoken to a flickering canvas of bright stars. You feel it blink, adjust to the piercing light, before it smiles dolefully—happy to be conscious, happy to be caressed.

Jungkook kisses you and takes his time. The taste of your femininity, the fresh coldness of your change, the strong wine of his desire. You’re drunk. You’re slurring your mewls. 

And one thing about unification, it’s a mirror. 

You swallow down the same mewls, uttered by his throat. 

“Daddy’s gonna give it to you,” he whispers, adjusting between your legs. “Will be gentle. You’re safe with me.” 

He rakes the tip of his length along the entirety of your little sea-kissed seashell. 

“You want it? You want Daddy’s cock inside of you?” 

Jungkook looks into your eyes deeply as he asks you that question, the tip ready at your significantly smaller hole. He peppers kisses along your jawline and chin. 

“I’m scared it’ll hurt,” you murmur, brows furrowed. 

He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth. 

“We’ll chase the pain away,” he promises.

Your frown deepens. 

“But what if it doesn’t fit?” 

You expect him to chuckle, but he does no such thing. He absorbs your worry by kissing you tenderly. Then he glances at your body. Remembers he never took off your bra and fixes his mistake. 

“You may be small, but you were made to take me,” he says and your heart skips a beat; you wonder if he understands the gravity of his words as they take roots within you, rising to bloom into splendid flowers. “Besides, my dick is tiny. You won’t even feel it.” 

It is so far from the truth that you burst into giggles. He laughs along with you—a mirror reflected. 

Stars and flowers. Sea and freshness. You were made to take him. You trust him. 

He kisses your breasts, licking over your nipple—but briefly. Holding his shaft, he asks if you’re ready. You nod, your fingers desperately searching for his and Jungkook notices. Sinking slowly inside of you, he grabs his bunny plushie and tucks her into the crook of your elbow. 

There’s a pinch of pain, blended with the feeling of discomfort as your walls stretch around his head. 

Seeing it painted on your face, Jungkook draws close, enveloping you and bunny in his heat. Pushes a little more in. You wail softly, the pain intensifying. Fear intermingles with your features and Jungkook—the worry in his countenance makes you almost weep.

“Hold onto me,” he says, brows scrunched, so—so serious. “Relax, baby. I got you.”

You hook your arms around his neck, bunny sandwiched between your chest and his. Jungkook saves this time to let you adjust around him. 

“I know it hurts,” he whispers onto your mouth, index finger, the ringed one, stretching to graze your cheek. “Just relax your muscles for me. It’ll feel good soon.” 

You nod, trusting him. 

He pecks you. Smiles. 

“How many orgasms are we at?” 

You roll your eyes, your own smile threatening your lips. “Three.”

Jungkook hums. Pecks you again. You feel your walls loosening, little by little.

A smug smirk. “You didn’t expect that, did you?” 

“You obliterated my expectations.” 

“Just wait until I fuck you properly.” 

You blush, eyes twinkling. 

“Pretty girl.” He kisses you and you feel your attachment forming again, though this time—newly. As light, as free as an entanglement of seaweed upon seashore, you and him. Connected. Bound. No fear, not even a hint of it. “I heard you watch porn.” 

Your flush deepens. Jungkook sinks a little deeper. A faint pain—nothing bad. 

“Who told you?” You laugh, the sound ridding you of your shyness. 

But Jungkook grows solemn.

“Tell me what kind you watch,” he whispers, angling his head to give you a tiny kiss. 

Your cheeks hurt from the smiling, from the onrush of emotions within you, sloshing to and fro. You feel hot all over.

“The one where all the focus is on the girl,” you whisper back. “The guy uses all kinds of toys on her and she just takes it. Comes so many times and there’s a countdown for it.”

Humming, he begins to nibble on the skin beneath your jaw, making your breath shallow. He pushes in another inch—and the pain is worse. You tighten your grip around him.

“And how many times do you come when you watch it?” Deep, deep is his voice, the calmness to your nerves due to the pricking you feel. 

“I don’t stop coming.” 

Jungkook swears under his breath and clenches his digits into a fist beside your head.

“And you finger yourself?” 

You nod, confidently. Another inch. He smiles at your confirmation of his deduction.

“How many fingers?” 

You scoff. “Just one.” 

“Well done,” he praises, kissing you once, keeping his mouth on you even as he asks, “ready?” 

You nod, again, even though there’s fright to your eyes. He sees it and he brushes his eyelashes against your eyelids while he kisses you, taking it all away. And he doesn’t stop, even as he pulls out and thrusts back into your heat. Gently, so awfully gently. 

He didn’t break his promise. 

Jungkook rocks his hips in slow, sensual, prolonged staccatos, moaning into your parted mouth. You’re so focused on him—on the bulging of his muscles on the either side of your head, the broadness of his shoulders, the slick sweat dripping down his neck, right from the top of his tattoo; on the sheerness of his pleasure as he moves in and out, carefully so as to not frighten you, that the pain quickly subsides. 

And there you feel it. 

The sensation unlike any other. 

He rams into you, seeing the wrinkle between your brows smoothing, the lust clouding your eyes as the delight spreads all over your body, bringing along little dots of goosebumps. The night sea, windless, still hot from the afternoon’s goodbye kiss. You feel it—and you feel it deeply, sinking inside of you with every inch of his manhood. So much that you meet his thrusts. 

“That’s it, baby. Fuck yes,” Jungkook murmurs, enraging the waves within. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Being fucked?” 

Stars and its light. He picks up the pace, hooking your leg over his shoulder, entering you deeper and deeper, giving you more than half. The thrill of feeling so full—you curse, you moan, you can’t hold it in, even if you tried. And Jungkook coos at your conveyance of the pleasure he’s giving you, never lifting his eyes off of yours, off of your features, your emotions. Surveying you, controlling you, making sure you’re okay—more than okay.

You sense the pressure coil deep within your core, the sense of your climax approaching and you’re astonished at how quick it is. You halt your own movements, needing—wanting him to be the one to get you there, the one who owns your orgasms. 

“Gguk, Gguk, fuck—”

“I know,” he breathes. “I’m gonna make you come all over my cock.” 

He fucks you harder, making you cry out. Deep, deep staccatos, so different from the slow, languid ones. You can’t catch your breath, the sea within you sloshes violently and then—

Softly, you sprinkle him with your fountain of pleasure. Not enough to drive him out, but sweetly enough to force him to groan against you and pound you harder into the mattress. Continuing as if you hadn’t come. 

You don’t have the time or the space to think about what just happened—he fucks each and every thought of you. 

“My little squirter,” Jungkook mutters, kissing you. “One more, baby. One more for me and I’ll paint you with my cummie. Hm, you want that?” You’re gone, flung out of this world into a tranquil island. The palm trees, the sea and his cock. Your emotions are numb, body limp. All you feel is his cock, ramming and ramming into you. “Or you wanna swallow it for me like a good girl?” 

“Swallow, please,” you croak out and Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Rewards you by giving you the full thing, filling you balls-deep. 

“You feel me?” He kisses you, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth. 

Glorious, glorious delight. You can’t breathe. Too much. 

“I feel you—” You lift your head to look down where you’re connected. “I—I feel you in my stomach.” 

Sitting back, he lifts your hips and palms the bulge just a little bit above your mound. Feels it move under him once he resumes fucking you. He replaces his hand with yours, keeping you distracted as he undoes the ribbon in your hair and ties your wrists with it. Right there above the bulge, where he fucks you. Then he latches onto your hips and jackhammers his cock into you, watching as your tits along with bunny bounce with each slam. 

“You look so pretty like this, tied up for me, taking all that I’m giving you,” he says, thumbing your clit, making you cry out. “Such a good fucking girl for me. I’m bringing you up so well.” 

“Daddy,” you call out and Jungkook nods.

“Yes, that’s right. Daddy is fucking you so good.” 

White flashes. Seafoam. The pressure in your tummy deepening and deepening. The roar of the night sea and your body following—you come all over him, painting him iridescent with your dewiness. His joggers, dragged halfway down his thighs, his boxers are all ruined—pelvis, thighs and cock glistening. It’s such a beautiful image to you that it suffuses you with energy and you begin to speak. 

“Please, come for me.” 

Surprised, Jungkook chuckles. “Don’t you have orgasms to count down?” 

The ever persistent need for control. You kiss him, slip your tongue into his mouth to shut him up and you struggle against your ribbon, for the feeling of kissing him without your hands makes you feel iffy.

“Five. I came five times for you just like you wanted,” you whisper. “You fucked me so good. I’ll never forget it.” 

And it’s the truth.

Jungkook pecks you once deeply, humming into the kiss. He pulls out of you and whilst he strokes his cock, his fingers tug down the ribbon around your wrists. You take your place on your knees, gazing with awe and hunger at his shiny length. And as if he needed it, he plunges his fingers into your mouth for more lubrication. Then, grabbing your jawline gently, he pulls you in towards his cock, letting your lips play with his tip the way you like it as he jerks himself off. You flick your tongue under the ridge of his head and his length twitches, stunning you. You do it again, more rapidly, and you don’t stop until Jungkook begins to tremble. Pulling him inside your mouth, then out, flicking faster and faster. Repeat. 

Jungkook grunts. 

“Yes, like that, princess. Fuck, I’m gonna come for you.” 

He announces it, but it still comes as a surprise when the first rope of hot cum spills onto your flushed cheek. You suck him harder for a moment before you stick out your tongue, eyes flick up, as he empties his balls for you, his hand never ceasing the swift tug on his length. 

And he just keeps coming. Rope after rope. Liquid star after star.

And you swallow it all. 

Spent, sweaty and breathless, he helps you swallow it. Dragging his fingers to the places your tongue can’t reach, he feeds you his cum and you suck on his digits. Your heart thuds in your ribcage, especially when he begins to play with your tongue, smiling down at you in that dopey way. 

He pats you on the cheek once you show him you’ve swallowed it all. 

“Good girl. Good little princess.” 

That you are. A changed person for all eternity.

“Is your tummy full?” 

You nod, beaming vehemently up at him, the aftertaste of the bitterness of his liquid stars still wafting through your senses.

The three forbidden words rise in your tongue, even though you don’t believe them—you think it’s just the opulence of new emotions and experience that forces those words on your tongue. But they remain adamant when he bathes you clean, when he brushes your hair and gives you his clothes to wear to bed. They provoke you right there on the tip of your tongue when he gives you his zipper hoodie to wear on his balcony once you tell him you need a smoke and he joins you, giving you his pack of cigarettes. 

And they come off the edge, in a different form, when you tell him of how he changed you while you hold his hand and he caresses your damp strands with a cigarette propped between his index and middle fingers, kissing your cheek. The smoke fixes a makeshift halo around both of your heads. One body, one halo. Bound.

“You’re such a lovable person, Gguk.”

What you don’t know is that those mere words changed the entire trajectory of his life. Yours, too.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two, part three