#as always when i come up with a silly au for something i'm like 'i don't know how everyone fits in i haven't thought about it at all'

[sesamestreep]

Crozier/Fitzjames, fake amnesia

from this list of reverse tropes for fic writers. i told @firstelevens I wasn’t sure I had it in me to write fic for these two and then I went and washed my hair and while I did that, this idea popped into my head fully formed and I was bound by honor to write it down. Also it’s the first thing my brain has wanted to write in like two months, so I took that as a good sign?? Anyway, here’s…something. Kind of a Parks and Rec AU?? but also not in any serious way? It’s like…what if these dudes from The Terror worked in local government or whatever… don’t worry about logistics, I mostly wanted to write Blanky and Crozier being best friends and also talk about sobriety feelings a bunch. AND THEN I DID. only fits the prompt if you squint super hard but, regardless, please enjoy… on ao3 because why not

“So, you feel ready to go back to work tomorrow?”

Francis removes his gaze with considerable effort from the perfect red orb that is the sun sinking steadily under the horizon line across the lake and shifts it reluctantly back to Tom, who’s sitting back in his chair with his booted foot propped up on a milk crate that he got from God knows where. The sight of the boot that encases the lower half of his left leg does push a wave of guilty bile up the back of his throat but he’s already been told that if he apologizes for causing Tom to have need of it one more time, he’ll be drowned in the aforementioned lake, so he resists. Tom knows Francis is sorry about what happened and he’s chosen to forgive him, even if Francis still thinks it’s a stupid choice, second only to him befriending Francis in the first place all those years ago. Francis doesn’t know where he himself would have ended up if that hadn’t happened, though, so it all comes out in the wash he supposes.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Francis says, tracing a hairline fracture in his coffee mug with his thumbnail just for something to do. “If I take any more time off, I’ll just never go back, so it’s now or never, really.”

“Attaboy,” Tom says before taking a long, thoughtful drink from his own mug. Out of solidarity, or maybe sensitivity, he hadn’t had anything to drink tonight either, despite Francis’s assurances that it wouldn’t bother him and might even be a good idea, just for him to get used to it. It’s not like he could reasonably expect to go the rest of his life without ever seeing alcohol again. He’d seen four different ads for light beer alone this afternoon while watching reruns of ‘Bones’ on the couch and imagining every possible way his first day back in the office after rehab could go wrong and that hadn’t sent him into a tailspin, so he’d probably survive watching his best friend drink in his presence. Still, Tom had chosen to just drink decaf coffee with him after dinner like the ancient relics they are, because he is, without a doubt, the best person Francis has ever known. “You talk to anybody about it? I mean, besides me…”

“What, you mean like a therapist? Of course. I’ve got, what, six of them now, for Christ’s sake!”

“No, I mean, from the office. Have you talked to anyone about coming back?”

“Well, John, obviously.”

“I suppose you’d have to, yeah,” Tom says, running a ponderous hand over his chin. “Anything interesting from that quarter?”

“Just about what you’d expect,” Francis says, trying to be generous. John had been kind enough to let him keep his job, after all, despite how bad things got in the end, but Francis’s issues with the man remain, even with his newfound sobriety. Francis had sent him a long, downright obsequious email apologizing for the damage he’d done with his drunken theatrics both over the years and in the very recent past and explained in detail all the ways he was going to do better in the future, while expressing gratitude for the unprecedented amount of grace everyone, but particularly John, had shown him during this stressful time. It was, in no uncertain terms, the most embarrassing thing Francis has ever had to do, and he has, in his life, proposed to the same woman three separate times with absolutely no success, so it’s not like he’s lacking in options for that top spot.

John is, thankfully, the sort of man who likes to breeze past unpleasantness wherever he can and is also, more importantly, a deeply entrenched bureaucrat who’d just as soon do no work as do even a little work and therefore could not be bothered to hire a replacement for Francis. In fact, if he had to guess, John was probably clever enough to frame it as some sort of protection against a discrimination lawsuit somewhere down the line, despite the fact that several things Francis did at the staff Christmas party right before hitting rock bottom were definitely fireable offenses. John’s unflappable dedication to the status quo has worked in Francis’s favor for once, and while he certainly doesn’t deserve the break, he’s going to take it where he can get it on the off chance it never happens again.

“And the staff? Your team, I mean.”

“I got coffee with a few of them individually, just to clear the air and apologize, so that if anyone wanted to take a swing at me, they could do it outside of work,” Francis says, scuffing his shoe against the porch.

“Well, that’s considerate of you. Any of them try it?”

“No. The cowards,” Francis scoffs, which makes Tom laugh. “Jopson and Edward both seemed like they might be sick at the prospect of anyone in charge actually deigning to apologize to them, which was…humbling, to say the least. Then I got an extremely nervous monologue from Harry about the history and relative efficacy of Alcoholics Anonymous, which I think was his way of saying we’re square. And Silna told me if I tried to meet up with her outside of work hours again, she’d block my number and quit without notice, so...”

“She’s got the right of it,” Tom says, with a crooked grin.

“Yeah, that was my favorite of the lot,” Francis replies. “We’ll have a team meeting tomorrow and we’ll get someone in from HR so everyone can talk about feelings, God help us, but I think it might be okay. Which I could not have predicted when all this started, but here we are.”

“I could have,” Tom says. “You’ve made plenty of mistakes, I grant you, but you’ve also done right by these people in a lot of ways. They’re not going to forget that in a hurry. They’re a loyal bunch.”

Francis nods, looking out over the water again. The pinks and golds of the sunset a few moments ago have already faded into purples and blues as night creeps in. The nocturnal chorus of frogs croaking and insects trilling is rising in the nearby woods. He’s already said his piece about how absurd it is that they’re sitting comfortably outside on the porch after dinner—with jackets on and a fire going, sure, but still—and it’s only the beginning of March. Tom doesn’t need to hear any more ranting about global warming right now; it’s no fair repayment of his generosity. What Francis really should do is head for home soon and let his friend have some peace and quiet. He could use some of that himself, but he somehow doubts that he’ll get much rest once he’s home for the evening. At least he can panic about tomorrow properly there, though, by himself.

“Speaking of throwing punches,” Tom says, carefully, after they’ve been quiet a moment, “have you spoken to James at all?”

Francis winces with what feels like his entire body. “I haven’t had the chance,” he says, as lightly as he can manage.

It isn’t precisely true. If he found the time to contact everyone else who’d been affected by his spectacular fall from grace during his leave of absence, he could have found the time to reach out to James too, but he hadn’t. The apology he owes James Fitzjames is too big for an email, which he’d, in a truly cowardly fashion, gotten away with for almost everyone else, and the presumption and humiliation of asking for any of his free time as he’d done with some of his subordinates was a bridge too far. Besides, if they’d met up at a coffee shop to talk things out, Francis has no doubt James would have ordered his drink with oat milk or stevia instead of sugar or mentioned a cleanse he was on and Francis would have rolled his eyes and said something awful and then he probably would have had to go to rehab all over again, which would have defeated the point. Francis has been told by outside observers—professionals in the field, for what it’s worth—that he’s making progress, but he’s even more sure that he’s still, at his core, a miserable old bastard. He’s just less miserable than he was before, by a small margin. Unfortunately, he’s not any less old, though. In fact, he’s older, but that’s beside the point.

“You’ll have to face him sooner or later,” Tom says, not quite gently but not as bullying as he could be either.

“I know,” Francis says, covering his face with his hands. “I’ll do it tomorrow. I mean, if anyone’s entitled to an in-person apology, it’s James, surely.”

“After you punched him in front of everyone at the Christmas party and verbally berated him? Yeah, I think something more than a text message might be in order.”

“You accepted an apology text,” Francis says, scowling into his mug. “And I broke your leg. You needed surgery and everything. I don’t even think I broke James’s nose.”

“Only because your aim sucks when you’re wasted,” Tom replies, unbothered. “Gave him quite the shiner, though, if you want to compare wounds.”

Francis sighs. “I already said I’d talk to him. You have my word.”

“What am I? Your bloody father?”

“No, and I like you a great deal better for it.”

“Good, then what do I need your word for?”

“I was just trying to convey my sincerity.”

“I don’t doubt your sincerity, Francis. Never have. It’s everyone else you need to convince.”

“I don’t know what to say to James,” Francis says, into his hands. “I mean, with you at least, we’ve known each other for ages. We can bounce back from quite a lot, it turns out. James, he’s—I’ve never known how to talk to him in the first place. Now I’ve got to do it sober? I don’t know where to start.”

“How about, ‘James, I’m sorry for trying to knock your lights out with an audience present while I was drunk off my ass on the company dime’ to start?”

Francis closes his eyes and leans back in his chair, letting the shame wash over him like a wave and then, more importantly, letting it recede like waves do. He sighs loudly and shakes his head.

“You know, I’ve always regretted I wasn’t the sort of drunk who forgets what he does when he’s wasted. Feels like it might be easier, ultimately. Like, I could say, ‘oh, sorry for whatever I might have done to you, James. The trouble is I don’t remember any of it, but I’m sure it’s nothing I would have done sober, all the same.’”

“Feigning amnesia?” Tom barks, laughing and looking at him sideways. “What’s that? The thirteenth step?”

“Leave me alone,” Francis replies, waving him off but laughing himself despite his best efforts. “I’ve done a lot of owning up to things lately. Can’t I keep one petty grievance for myself?”

“You could probably get away with it, if you’d left it as a petty grievance rather than escalating to violence. And your resistance to dealing with James should tell you making amends there is your highest priority. Discomfort is a good thing here, a signal you’re heading in the right direction. If it were all easy, everyone would do it, you know.”

“That’s lovely, Tom. Will you be cross-stitching any of these aphorisms onto pillows to remind me to stay the course, or shall I just memorize them for when times get tough?”

“Fuck off, you dusty old prick,” Tom laughs. “Hey, what about this? ‘James, I’m ever so sorry for getting plastered and calling you out in front of everyone and then attempting to rearrange your pretty face with my fist! I do think some of the blame lies in you being so pretty and in me having some unresolved issues around my masculinity and my self-esteem, all of which you can blame on my waste of a father figure growing up, but in this case, I suppose I have to shoulder some of the responsibility for my actions myself. Forgive me?’”

“There’s no one else on earth who could get away with saying even half those things to me, you know,” Francis says, even as his blood doesn’t boil or even heat in the slightest hearing them. It rushes to his face instead, no doubt resulting in a fierce blush that the gathering darkness mercifully hides from view.

“I earned it the hard way, my friend,” Tom says, patting his boot.

“That you did,” Francis says, and rises from his seat. “I’d better be going, then. Much to do, after all: apologies to draft, laundry to fold, worst case scenarios to spin out.”

Tom gets up with effort, clunky and inelegant in his boot, but not so proud as to decline Francis’s hand when it’s offered. “I wasn’t trying to scare you off,” he says once he’s vertical.

“You didn’t. It’s like I said, I’ve a lot to do before the big day.”

Tom nods and, after a moment of deliberation, puts a hand on Francis’s shoulder. “You’re a good man, you know.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Francis replies, shifting away from the praise. “More of a bad man trying to be better.”

Tom gives him a long look at that and then shakes his head, smiling. “All that work on yourself and you still don’t get it,” he says, not unkindly. “What else do you think a good man is?”

Francis doesn’t know, but he spends the whole ride home and the rest of the night thinking about it all the same.

*

Francis’s plan of attack, such as it even exists, takes form more easily than he could have predicted. Once he starts thinking about how best to approach James at work and make amends on that front, he finds he knows a lot more about the man than he originally thought. A few years working together, however contentiously, has been enough to pick up on each other’s habits and quirks well enough that Francis can reasonably predict when he’ll be able to get a moment of James’s time without anyone else around. The fact that he can do this and yet never thought to do it before under any other circumstances is the cause of another wave of shame that passes less quickly than Francis would like.

Francis arrives at the City Planner’s office just before 8:30 in the morning with the certainty that he won’t run into John—the man has many flaws but his dedication to never showing up to work any earlier than he absolutely needs to is not one of them, in Francis’s opinion—but that he will, in all likelihood, find James already there and more than likely already working. He also arrives with the materials for a bribe, should that prove necessary.

He’s so worked up, going through everything he’s planning to say one last time in his mind before he actually sees James, that he doesn’t think to knock on the outer door, which is sitting half-open anyway, and just barges in instead. It’s not a great start, he realizes a second after it’s too late to do anything else, and it’s made even worse by the fact that James is there, as expected, and he’s only partially in his shirt, which is not so expected. Francis stops and gapes for a moment with all the grace of someone who’s been tased.

“God, sorry,” he says, and tries to step back, only to collide with the door jamb. “I should’ve—”

“Francis, it’s—good morning, I—this isn’t—I’m the—I’m sorry,” James says, managing to sound crisp and self-possessed even when he’s stammering his way through an apology. “I don’t normally…do this…in the office, I mean.”

“No, of course not,” Francis says, behaving like a teenager in a romantic comedy for some reason and averting his eyes, even though there’s nothing to see. James was in the process of buttoning his shirt when he came in, so it’s really the sight of his clavicle that’s made Francis so uncomfortable. Was he always this much of a ninny? Is that why he started drinking, to cover it up? It’s the only explanation that makes any sense now.

“I went for a run this morning and I neglected to pack a shirt with my work clothes, so I had to use the spare I keep in my desk for emergencies.”

The old Francis (of several weeks and easily a thousand group sessions ago) would have rolled his eyes at any number of things in that small explanation: running to work, keeping a spare shirt in one’s desk, referring to anything related to fashion as an ‘emergency’ and meaning it. Now, he nods thoughtfully and tries to think of it all as part and parcel of what he respects and admires about James: his dedication and planning, his ability to anticipate and address future challenges. The fact that he looks nice in blue. Whatever. It turns out it’s easier to do than he imagined it would be.

“I don’t think you have a habit of undressing in the office for fun, James,” Francis says, instead of any of those nice things. “Don’t worry.”

“Right,” James says, lightly, even as his shoulders remain tense. He does up the last few buttons and his clavicle disappears under the taut poplin fabric of his dress shirt. “Well, what can I do for you, Francis?”

Francis has heard—and, in turn, mocked—James on any number of occasions start conversations with a smooth, ‘to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?’, which is not an expression Francis himself has been treated to in a long time and for good reason. He doesn’t know why he thinks of it now, except that he’d take even a sarcastic reference to the pleasure of his company (of which there is none and never has been for James in particular, he thinks) over the idea that James should do anything for him, at this point.

“You’re training, then?” Francis asks, skirting gracelessly around the question James actually posed. “For another one of the what-do-ya-call-em’s? Not a marathon. The thing you did last year…?”

“The Ironman,” James suggests, looking slightly pained. “It’s a triathlon.”

“Yeah, that sounds right. Another one of those?”

“God, no,” James replies, nose wrinkling slightly before he seems to catch himself doing it and intentionally blanks his expression. “I’m not likely to do another one of those. I already have my bragging rights, after all. Today’s run was just for health.”

“Oh, sure,” Francis says, tapping a fingertip nervously against the cardboard sleeve of his coffee cup. “I’m meant to be doing that now.”

“Running?” James asks, betraying some surprise, which is fair enough.

“Exercising. For my health. To keep me…”

“Fit?”

“Well, distracted,” Francis replies, with a shrug. “There seems to be some thought of it helping to keep me away from drink, though I’m not sure what the logic is there. But I’m meant to be thinking of something I’d enjoy, anyway.”

“Not running, then,” James says, brow crinkling like he’s giving the matter serious thought. James is a fixer by nature—and by profession, of course, being paid mostly to follow John around and make sure the grand promises that flow from his mouth actually happen somehow. He thrives with a problem to solve. If Francis were even marginally less stupid and less proud, he might have thought to come to James sooner. He’s nothing if not several very large problems wrapped in a trench coat. Or a wind breaker, in actuality. The point is, Francis could use all the fixing he can get his hands on.

“Not likely. Never enjoyed it, really. Hard on the ankles, I’ve found.”

“Yes, it can be quite stressful on the joints. You’ve got to take all sorts of precautions,” James says, in the tone he gets when he’s working his way up to a long treatise of some kind, but he stops abruptly and his face betrays that he’s seemingly caught himself. He clears his throat. “So, it’s not for everyone. I understand.”

“Yes, well, my sponsor was saying that I might try tennis or racquetball, but then I’d have to find a regular partner or group, and I’m not sure I have it in me.”

“There’s a club nearby, actually, and they could help you arrange—” James pauses and shakes his head, once again stopping himself from expounding on the different options available the way he normally would. It’s an uncharacteristic amount of restraint coming from James, who loves recommending things to other people almost as much as he loves the sound of his own voice. Francis sees some of his own handiwork in this new display of shame and feels the need to make amends even more keenly than before because of it. “Well, you can Google it, I imagine, and it would be faster than listening to me. It is, uh—it’s in Eagleton, however, so I suppose that won’t do.”

“No,” Francis replies, frowning. “Thanks all the same, though. I imagine I’ll end up doing water aerobics with the rest of the senior citizens at the community center and call it a day.”

“You’re not a—you’re barely fifty, Francis!”

“I’m fifty-two, actually.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I hope you have your affairs in order,” James gripes, as he messes with something entirely unnecessarily on his desk. Francis smiles at the strange comfort of annoying him, which should not be reassuring to him at all but he’s a messed up sort of fellow even on his best days. The smile grows when James clears his throat again and adds, like he can’t quite stop himself, “Swimming’s rather good for the joints, actually.”

“Swimming?” Francis asks.

“Yes, swimming. As in, laps…in a pool. Something else the community center offers, if you were interested. It’s solitary—meditative, even—and good exercise. In—that is, in case you were wondering.”

“If this is you trying to talk me into a triathlon, James—”

James sniffs, more performatively haughty than genuinely haughty, Francis suspects. “I’d never,” he says. “I was merely recommending an activity that you might enjoy more than water aerobics, and that might spare the elderly of our community from dealing your obvious personality disorder early in the morning, when those classes tend to be held.”

Francis, much to James’s surprise from the look on his face, laughs at that. “I’ll take that under advisement,” he says, while James continues to regard him like he’s wild animal exhibiting signs of rabies who’s suddenly appeared in his path, which is maybe a common occurrence in town, depending on who you ask. “Thank you.”

James nods, distracted. “Sure.”

“Well, I—I…listen, I didn’t come here to talk about exercise regimes, which I figure you could have guessed,” Francis says, in a rush, because anything less than a headlong dive into the subject they need to discuss will hurt much worse than just getting it over with, he suspects. “And I don’t want to presume anything about your life, but I also figure there’s a non-zero chance that you’re already familiar with the famous 12 step program, maybe just through cultural osmosis, and I don’t want to over explain any of it to you, but, well, there’s a pretty important part about identifying people you’ve wronged through your addiction and the resulting behavior and making direct amends to said try people and—”

“I’m familiar,” James interrupts, softly. “Not directly, of course, or, um, anything like that—I don’t want to detract—but—”

Francis waves him off. “No need to explain. I just—well, obviously, that list of people, for me, had to include you, because of what transpired between us at the end of last year and how I behaved. The things I said to you, then—how I’ve always spoken to you, really—and of course, I—God, I’m so sorry. It feels absurd to say out loud but I’m sorry for lashing out at you and hitting you, I should never have—”

“It’s fine, Francis,” James says, starchily. He’s got a nervous hand pressed to his ribcage, so intently that it’s almost shocking to look and see no actual knife sticking out from there, somehow. With that, it’s hard to believe the breeziness of his words. “Really, this isn’t necessary.”

“And I’m telling you it is,” Francis explains, as carefully as he can manage. “Maybe it isn’t for you, I don’t know, but it’s necessary for me. Do you—can you understand that?”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” James says, after a deep breath. “Of course. Is there…more?”

“You tell me. Is there any other ways my drinking harmed you that I haven’t thought of?”

“No, I wasn’t—”

Francis holds up a hand to stop him. “That probably read as very sarcastic, given our…history, let’s say, but it was a genuine question. I think I’ve raked myself over the coals for every possible slight I can imagine but if there’s anything I did that I can address for you now, I’d have you tell me.”

“No, it’s fine, really,” James replies, shakily. “I only meant, I don’t really know what goes into all this. Is amends just an apology or is there more to it? I don’t need there to be, I was just curious. That’s all.”

“Well, you’re meant to endeavor to show you’ve changed your ways, I suppose. To indicate that you won’t be perpetuating the same harm in the future. Which, in this case, is tough, because…well, I mean, all I can give you is my word I won’t try to knock you out at work ever again.”

“Outside of work hours, however…” James muses, with a small, mirthless smile.

Francis winces, but otherwise doesn’t react. “I’ll never behave that way towards you again. On my honor, for whatever that’s worth.”

James folds his arms over his chest and looks down at the carpet, appearing like a sullen youth for a brief moment before he raises his gaze and becomes a grown man once more. Francis remembers when he’d shown up with John that first time, how he’d called James an infant to Tom when they finished their initial meeting with him about the town’s budget crisis all those years ago. Tom had laughed at him, wheezing ‘he’s a decade younger than us, if he’s anything, Francis. He’s our bloody peer now, and if you don’t see it, you’re cracked!’ Francis thought—still thinks—Tom is the one who’s cracked, in this case. James looked young, then; he looks young now, everywhere except the eyes, which contain a stormy sea’s worth of disappointment. Francis can be self-centered with the best of them but he knows he’s not the one who put that feeling there in the first place. He’s not that important. For the first time, however, he feels protective of the man in front of him because of it and takes it as his very solemn duty to never be the cause of his disappointment again, so long as it can be helped. All that and it’s not even 9 in the morning yet.

“It’s worth plenty,” James says, eventually, clearly just as uncomfortable with this much emotion so early in the day as Francis is and eager to be done with it. “Thank you, Francis.”

“Yes, well, I won’t take up any more of your time, I’ve been nuisance enough for one morning, but if there’s ever anything you want to discuss or clear up between us, my door’s always open. To you, that is. Well, to anyone, but just in case your particular welcome was unclear, I mean, you should—”

James sweeps a hand out wide in a graceful gesture like he’s literally clearing the air. “Understood,” he says, sincerely, “and appreciated.”

“Great,” Francis says, too cheerily and then winces again. “I mean, uh—right, I’ll just be going then.”

As he pivots back towards the door, the sloshing noise of the ice shifting in one of the cups he’d forgotten he was holding draws his attention. Christ, right. The whole point was—Francis really is starting to lose his mind. He contemplates just leaving anyway, like nothing’s amiss, but he’ll have to explain the two drinks to his team, absolutely none of whom will buy that the iced chai is for him. He’s gone on too many rants about how coffee shouldn’t be iced and tea only on certain occasions. He’s the type to drink hot, black coffee even on the most brutal summer days, though his sponsor did warn him that a lot of alcoholics do turn to sweets as a coping mechanism for replacing alcohol in their daily lives and not to be surprised if he found himself needing additional sweetener in his morning coffee as a result. Francis hadn’t credited it at the time, but he had found himself momentarily tempted at the coffee shop this morning by a sign advertising something called a ‘death by chocolate latte’ as the daily special before he’d gotten a hold of himself, so maybe there’s some truth to it. The point is, dragging this extra drink back to his office will be more humiliating than turning around and giving it to James like he originally planned, no matter how awkward it feels right now.

“Okay,” he says, turning back, “I promise this is the last thing and then I will let you get back to work. There’s, uh—it’s not a bribe, mind you, just an extension of the apology for what happened and for the fact that you’ll have to continue working with me for the foreseeable future and—you don’t have to forgive me, you don’t owe me that, I just thought—”

James looks at him, utterly perplexed, fingertips gently steepled on the top of the desk like he’d already been going back to whatever he was working on when Francis interrupted again. “What is it?” he asks, somehow still not betraying any annoyance at the interruption, hiding it well under an open tone of curiosity.

“The—this,” Francis finally spits out with considerable effort, holding the cup out towards James, rather than try to explain himself further. “It’s for you.”

“Oh,” James replies, with an expression like Francis is trying to hand him a live gerbil and not an upsettingly overpriced beverage like the ones he’s seen James drink on dozens of occasions. “I, uh—that’s really not necessary.”

“You must take it, James. Please. I said you’re not obligated to forgive me, I’m not trying to sway you, really. It just felt wrong to show up empty handed, after everything.”

“I understand, but, really—”

“You’re not on another one of your cleanses, are you? Giving up sugar or…calories before noon or something?” Francis ventures, imbuing his tone with more patience than he normally would, even though he still feels very little towards this thing in particular.

James is already so annoyingly healthy and brisk and handsome, it does take extraordinary amounts of patience to tolerate his talk of intermittent fasting and green juice with the goal of making himself even more annoyingly perfect. Surely, there’s got to be a limit to that sort of thing, but Francis doesn’t know; he’s on the opposite end of the spectrum it seems, having to re-learn the fundamentals of barely looking after himself in middle age without the aid of alcohol. It’s pretty grim, if he’s being honest. It really is no wonder that James has been so consistently earning the gold medal spot in the competitive sport of getting on Francis’s nerves, with that in mind.

His intentional gentleness does seem to pay off in this case, though, since James smiles at him in only mild embarrassment. “Uh, no, I’m not. I just—you’re not obliged to—”

“I know, but—listen, James, I already committed my penance by having to say the phrase ‘dirty chai’ with a straight face to a college student with a lip piercing at eight in the morning, okay? The damage is done. You might as well enjoy the spoils of my humiliation.”

James’s smile widens at that, looking for all the world like he can’t really stop himself. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but that mental image might be worth more to me than the entirety of your apology.”

“No offense taken,” Francis says, finally succeeding in handing off the cup, slick with condensation by now, into James’s care. “I hope it will sustain you for a while yet.”

“Oh, it shall,” James says, placing the cup gingerly onto his desk.

“Right, well,” Francis replies, “that’s all, then. I’ll see you…later, I suppose.”

James nods. “We have a meeting set for Tuesday—tomorrow. It should be on your calendar. Thomas said he—”

“If Jopson says it’s there, it’s there.”

“Great,” James says, easily. “Until then.”

“Yes. ‘Til tomorrow.”

Mission completed, Francis turns once more towards the door and is only interrupted in leaving by the sound of James clearing his throat behind him. He pauses, and looks over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows in question when he meets James’s eye.

“It’s only—forgive me if this is the wrong thing to say, under the circumstances,” James offers, fidgeting with the edge of the notepad lying open on his desk, “but you do—that is, you look well, Francis.”

Francis doesn’t allow himself the liberty of moving even an inch, not to fiddle with his collar or brush back his hair or otherwise indicate he gives so much as one singular damn about his appearance. “Do I?” he asks, tone purposely vague, like James has just told him the weather forecast and it’s only interesting to him in theory, really.

“Yes, very well,” James says, putting his hand flat on the desk very deliberately, like it was giving him away before. At what, who knows, but he’s got it under control now. “This change, it suits you.”

“Well, thank you, I guess.”

James now looks at his computer screen, absently. The next words he says might be something he was reading off of there, if they were anything else. “You look good, is what I meant.”

“How—?” Francis pauses, feeling immense pressure to say this right, somehow. “Sorry, but how would that be the wrong thing to say?”

“I wouldn’t want you to think, well—” James interrupts himself by laughing, just a little and rather joylessly. “It’s not that you didn’t look good before.”

“Oh, right,” Francis says, even as those words continue to make no sense to him in that particular order coming from this particular person. “Wait, you’re saying—I did?”

James meets his eye again, finally, but only to give him the most impatient, long-suffering look in human history. “Is it too much to hope that one of the twelve steps involves learning to take a compliment?” he asks, sounding depleted by the effort. “Because it is one of your most exhausting qualities that you can’t do so without endless interrogation first.”

“And it’s got a lot of competition,” Francis replies, feeling himself smile and choosing to do nothing to stop it, “what with all my other exhausting qualities.”

“You’re really only proving my point here, you know.”

“Thank you, James,” Francis says, dutifully. “It’s very kind of you to say. Better?”

“Much,” James sighs. “You’re showing remarkable improvement already.”

Francis leaves him, then, because to stay any longer would just be exposing himself to further ridicule and he’d absolutely deserve it, what with the stupid smile he now can’t seem to get rid of.

[joonipertree]

Sugar Daddy Boxer! Bakugo Katsuki x college student gn!reader

Tags: Age gap! Bakugo is 27, reader is 22. fluff, protective bakugo, attentive bakugo, he's a boxer because I said so <3

Bro i finished this with my wrist bandaged up. The things I'd do for my anime men.

Pt 2. Pt 3

Feel free to send in requests/prompts for this AU!

"Babydoll."

....

"Babydoll."

You finally hummed, unwrapping the woollen scarf that pillowed your face. It did an amazing job to keep you warm in the cold abyss of the early morning winter but was useless in your boyfriend's heated sports car.

You let yourself unfurl, letting the warmth melt you.

"Did you sleep properly?"

"Yeah." you said with a yawn, ready to turn your brain off again.

"I'm gonna ask you how many hours and you're telling me the truth."

You made eye contact with Katsuki, who still hadn't left the front of your building mind you, and reached out for your morning kisses.

"First, answer then kisses."

You whined and squirmed before huffing into stillness when you realised he was too mean to give into you.

"Six hours."

Katsuki's already furrowed eyebrows furrowed even more but he leaned forward to kiss your puckered lips. They were warm and firm and tasted like strawberry chapstick. And the hint of your cologne wafted through you, making you sigh into him.

Katsuki tugged your lower lip into his mouth, suckling on it before letting go and kissing the corner of your lips.

"We agreed on eight, baby."

"I was doing my homework, silly."

"Was this before or after your fanfiction reading time?"

You grinned, pawing at his chest as you leaned in for another chaste kiss.

"Look at you learning, old man. It was before."

Katsuki rolled his eyes, squeezing your thigh with his rough hand before finally deciding to start the car.

"Where do you wanna get breakfast from? You're not getting a coffee, by the way."

"Excuse m---"

"Nuh uh, little one." Katsuki looked at you with an eyebrow raise. "You didn't sleep as much as you should've and it already makes you jittery."

You crossed your arms and huffed, burying yourself deeper into the leather. And you knew that you'd just say something stupid and get yourself in even more trouble, so your mouth stayed shut. Katsuki didn't bother asking again, already knowing that there was a chocolate croissant and Acai bowl that had you hooked.

He made his way into the store quickly, your body not ready to get out to the fanged monster that the winter brought. And it meant you got the wonderful opportunity to see people actively stare at your boyfriend.

It didn't matter when he didn't even bother making eye contact, hands deep in his pockets and resting bitch face on. Two boys came up to him in an excited manner that wasn't fit for early morning. And while Bakugo scowled harder, he still had the courtesy to give them his autograph. You knew that if they weren't highschool students, he'd tell them to fuck off. Bakugo never became aggressive with kids.

Once the order was handed to him, he slipped the tip into the jar at the counter. And since the man never carried change, the barista's face had twisted into shell shock. But Bakugo didn't even acknowledge it and left the premises, making his way back to you.

You were handed the croissant and Acai bowl, nose filling with pleasant scents that warmed you even further into the seat. Katsuki took a sip of his black coffee before handing you your own cup.

"It's very much decaf but I know you like your caramel macchiato."

You squealed at the gesture, not surprised that he was soft for you, and leaned in to give a big wet smooch to his cheek. His smile was evident, even when he tried to keep it hidden.

"I need to stop spoiling you."

He never did.

By the time you'd finished your drink and croissant, your uni had come into view. And as always, some people eyed the Chevrolet Corvette that your boyfriend drove. black exterior glittering in the morning sun.

After a couple affectionate kisses littered across Bakugo's face and a very long kiss on the lips, you got out of your car in your sweats and puffer jacket.

Your friends were waiting by the entrance, having come at the same time, they greeted you while eyeing the car. They knew it belonged to your boyfriend but they never knew what your boyfriend even did to be sports car rich.

"Hello, my children," You muttered out, blinking slowly as you put your scarf over your nose.

"Hey, dude. How did your--" One of your friends began to talk to you while you all walked to class. But after a good fifteen steps, you heard someone call your name.

"Oi." The gruff voice filled your ears.

The three of you turned around and your friends had been left bamboozled.

Because lo and behold, Bakugo Katsuki had graced them with his presence.

The man just held up a green canvas bag, his finger being the only thing to hold the straps. You gasped and ran to grab it, making sure to check the contents as if afraid that you forgot to put your precious artwork before you left your apartment.

"Thank you thank you thank you, 'suki." You muttered, getting on your tippy toes to kiss his nose and mouth. You had to put your hand on rock hard muscle to stabilise yourself and the pressure didn't effect him one bit. He just cupped your face and deepened the kiss before placing one on your forehead.

"Stop being a dumbfuck and sleep on time. And show me what you made when I pick you up."

Bakugo started going back to his car, not caring for the stares your friends were throwing at him. They were chill, so he's heard. Katsuki was too anti social to get first hand experience.

"My guy."

When you turned, your guy friend had grabbed you by the shoulder and shook you vigorously.

"Your rich fucking boyfriend is a WBA fighter. Dude!"

"Yeah!! He's super cool right?"

"He's a fucking god but that's besides the point." Your friend looked more and more erratic.

"Yeah and that god is giving you a death glare. Better get your hands off them, bro. You've seen the amount of blood his opponents lose." Your other friend interjected, already pulling him off of you. He looked pale.

You turned and saw Katsuki stand like a statue, hands in his pockets and eyes hardened. His teeth were gritted which worried you since he already had a bad jaw. Students were swerving away like two rivers, his body like a jagged mountain in the middle.

Your double thumbs up and wide grin was the only thing that broke him out of his stance, shoulders relaxing and jaw releasing from its hold. Katsuki scanned the two men for a few more seconds before he turned and left with a wave of his hand.

"Fuck, I don't think I'll be able to breathe properly all day."

You turned with a skip in your step, happy to have seen your boyfriend for a few extra seconds in the morning.

"He's like a doberman. Such a cutie pie."

"I feel like that's an accurate description considering he would bite our heads off but only let you pet him."

"I see no cuteness in that man."

[fourmoony]

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝟐

f!reader x PT!Jamie (modern au) 1.5k words

summary: reader has a bad gym experience and jamie gets protective

cw: working out, mention of potential injury, mentions of sexual harrassment (ass grabbing)

sidenote, that I've seen a lot of this behaviour in the gym before and it makes me sick. writing about it and imagining how jamie would handle it makes me less sick. imagining big strong pt!james making the world better, one set of keys at a time. please, always be aware of your surroundings if you are working out at the gym, especially alone <3

James pulls you out from under the bar of the smith machine by the hips seconds before it clatters to the ground with a sickening thud and clang of metal. You stumble under his harsh hands, land on the ground at his feet and let out a pained whoosh of breath. Luckily, the gym is empty save for the two of you, sparing you the embarrassment of having people watch the commotion.

He's on you in an instant, gentle hands that cradle your neck as he crouches in front of you and pushes your head from side to side with a little pressure from his thumbs. All you can do is blink, try to process what, exactly, just happened. "You're not sore here?" James asks you, brows furrowed and almost touching in the middle, his fingers pressing into the base of your neck.

Your first thought is that James doesn't suit frowning. A silly thought, considering you almost decapitated yourself with a one hundred kilogram squat rack. "No. Just my ass from crash landing." You don't fail to notice the way your voice sounds distant, detached.

James' hands are warm on your neck, a burning touch that you want to lean into. You don't, and it's gone as James collapses down across from you, his elbows resting against his knees. His face turns stern, "What's going on?"

You feel like you're being scolded, and maybe you should be. It's a well known fact that form is everything, that being distracted in the gym can lead to serious injuries. You'd known you wouldn't be able to focus today, you'd known you should've stopped that set and corrected yourself when you could feel the weight more in your back than your legs. But, you hadn't. You're distracted, you're angry. You'd walked into the gym full of frustration and it'd almost ended terribly.

Tears fight their way to your eyes and they burn. You feel a lump forming in your throat that forces you to look away from James. Kind, patient James, who allows you the moment to collect yourself as you pull your legs to your chest. "Shitty week." It comes out mumbled, your voice defeated.

James nods understandingly. "A shitty week doesn't make you lose focus like that, though. There's something more to it."

It's not like James to push. He's friendly and he's kind, he can be a menace when he wants to be, and sometimes you even think he's flirting with you - but he never pushes. You want to open up, you want to step out of that weird area of professionalism you can never seem to get past with him. But unloading your shitty week on him doesn't feel like the way to do that. So you shrug, pulling your knees to your chest until your chin rests atop them, "I'm just stressed. I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I knew my form was wrong but I was too distracted to stop and fix it."

"I don't care that your form was wrong," James shakes his head as though offended you'd think such a thing, "I mean," He pauses, searching for the words, "Obviously, I care that it was wrong because you almost got hurt. But what I mean is that you should've told me you were stressed, that you were feeling a bit distracted."

You find yourself nodding, eyes downcast at your crossed ankles.

"I was waiting for you to correct the form yourself. If I knew you were distracted, I'd have told you to stop. I'm sorry, too." James' voice has turned soft, less stern. He nudges his foot until it's in your line of vision, tapping it against yours until you're looking up.

He's waiting with a smile, his eyes gentle and patient. It feels odd. New, foreign. You can't really describe the feeling. "A guy grabbed my ass in the gym, yesterday." You breathe out, unsure really of what it is that's made you tell him.

It could be that you trust him. It's hard not to build trust with someone in James' position, it's literally his job to stop things like one hundred kilogram bar bells falling on top of you. Or, it could be that not telling anyone, reliving how powerless you'd felt, going over everything you could've done differently, it's eating you alive. Sharing this with James, who sees every day what gyms are like, how people in some gyms behave, you have a feeling that he'll get it. That he'll help you process.

But, he doesn't say anything. Just stares with a look that you can't read. The muscles in his arms shift, his hands clenching around each other tightly, and his jaw clenches. You think he might not say anything, though, you know James is better than that. The silence stretches until the tears in your eyes abate, then James finally croaks, "He what?"

Your veins crackle with the anger in his voice, the darkness that clouds his eyes. You'd never have imagined James in such a light if he wasn't sitting right in front of you, the very picture of livid. You shrug, as though feigning nonchalance might abate the white hot anger you know very well the feeling of. "I was doing those stupid kick back thingies you're always on about. Just messing about as a cool down, trying to correct my own form. He came over and started giving me advice, which I thought was just him being nice."

James shakes his head, remorse like a white sheet of dread across his beautiful face. You swallow, picking at a hangnail on your thumb, "He kind of just," You shift your hands as though grabbing your own hips, "Grabbed me like that and my throat went dry. When he was leaving he grabbed my ass and said 'you're welcome'."

"You didn't report him to the gym staff?"

You shake your head, lip trapped between your teeth. "I wasn't even planning on telling you until I nearly killed myself with the smith machine."

James sighs, one of his hands coming up to rub at his face. He looks nauseous, almost. "I'll get you a set of keys for this gym. You can work out here, from now on. No one will bother you."

It's a nice offer. It makes your heart swell and your cheeks heat. James has always gone above and beyond. He fits you into his schedule despite your crazy work hours and never charges you for the session if you have to cancel day of. But the reason you don't have a membership at his gym is because it's not in your price range. So you smile, kind, if a little tight lipped, "James, you know I can't."

"I'm not saying get a membership. I'm saying I'll get you a set of keys. You can come and go as you please, even after work, whatever time you want." His voice is thick, his eyes earnest and almost pleading.

"I can't ask you to do that."

James scoots closer, fingers flexing as though he might reach out for you, but is stopping himself. He chases your gaze, waits until he has it, until your lips part under the weight of it and your heart hammers against your chest, to speak. "You're not asking. I'm offering. I can't believe that happened to you and it makes me so angry. I'm not going to sit by and do nothing about it."

You sigh, unwilling to argue when James sounds so passionate, so sure of himself. A smile makes its way to your lips, timid, unsure, "Thanks, Jamie."

He nods. "Any time."

"Are you sure the owner won't mind?" You ask.

James grins, some of the mischievous twinkle returning to his eyes, "He's my best mate, it'll be fine."

He offers you a hand as he stands, the storm clouds passing and the weight already lifting from your chest. It feels brighter, in the gym. You take James' hand, let him pull you up. He does his signature move of tugging you until you're stumbling towards him, his laugh echoing off of the concrete walls when you curse him out for it.

"Start from the beginning?" James asks, moving to return the smith machine to where you need it to be.

You take a breath, watch the way his shoulder muscles strain against his top as he bends and lifts. It brings a smile to your lips, the feeling of familiarity you hadn't felt upon entering the gym earlier. "I believe I was at five reps when I dropped the bar."

James tsks, "Dropping it doesn't count as a rep. Call it four."

"Cruel."

James only winks, offers you his award winning smile as you settle yourself under the bar. This time, with the correct form. He nods, and you twist to unlock, eyes on his in the mirror.

"That's one." He grins, crossing his arms over his chest.

You consider dropping the bar on his head, next.

[fuctacles]

you guys are feral for silly wereshifter Steve AU and I love that

Some meatheads are calling Eddie names again. The dog that's been tailing him appears out of nowhere and makes eye contact with him as it struts over to the group and lifts his leg, pissing all over the fresh wax on their BMW with the determination and focus of a dog that hasn't been outside for the whole day.

"Hey, get your fucking dog off my car!" One of the guys jumps up, but the warning show of canines stops him from shooing the dog away himself.

Eddie shrugs, though he's restraining a smile.

"It's not mine."

Later the dog finds him again as it always does, and he makes amends.

"You are my dog though, right? My good doggie. Who's my good boy?" he asks, scratching the overjoyed dog all over its furry body.

At home, Steve asks Robin to call him a good boy when he shifts, to see if it feels as good. It doesn't. Well, it does, but not in the same way.

It comes to the point when dog Steve spends more time with Eddie than human Steve. To soak in the happiness and love Eddie shows him.

"Is Steve okay?" Eddie asks one day, petting the dog beside him while they take a break from band practice. The rest of Hellfire is hanging out in the garage, with Mike jumping on every opportunity to learn guitar from Jeff and the rest usually following.

"Yeah?" Dustin cocks his head. "Why wouldn't he be?"

"I don't know." Eddie shrugs. "Haven't seen him in a while and you're never mentioning him anymore."

Dustin looks at the dog.

"He's fine. You're overthinking it."

Eddie thinks that might be it, but...

"I know we're not friends-friends but I don't even see him in passing! Hell, Buckley is there to hang out, and he's not!"

Dustin throws his hands up in the air, annoyed with the questions.

"Don't ask me, man! Ask him yourself! And, to be honest," he crosses his arms, glaring at the dog, for some reason. "I don't understand what's going on with him either."

Eddie frowns, looks at the dog that huffs loudly, and looks away with a grunt. He pats its fluffy fur.

"How am I supposed to ask him if he's never here?" he sighs. "I don't want to just corner him at his place."

Dusting looks at him like he failed elementary two times, not high school.

"There's this thing called phones?"

"Oh. Right."

"Jesus it's like you'd die without me."

"Well..."

"Not what I meant!" Dustin goes pale instantly, mortified by his own words.

"I know, kid." Eddie pulls his head down in reassurance and leans into a side hug. "Don't worry."

-----

"He's not picking up," he tells the dog while biting at a hangnail. "Maybe he's at work?" He wonders out loud and goes to the magazine pile on the coffee table. The dog struts behind him. He rummages through the papers under its watchful eye until he finds the Family Video pamphlet. He runs back to the phone with it and dials the number on the back.

"Hi, I'm looking for Steve? Oh, hi Buckley. Do you know if he's home? Okay. Can you tell him to call me when he's free? No, I just wanted to ask him something. Thanks. Bye."

When he hangs up, he's alone in the room.

"Buddy?"

There's a bark from the front of the trailer.

"Sure, sorry!"

He runs up to open the door for the dog already waiting there. But before it leaves, it nuzzles up into his hand, the wet nose and hesitance to leave reassuring Eddie that he'll be back sooner or later. He smiles at the dog, giving him one last scratch between the ears.

"Such a good boy. See you later, buddy."

----

Steve calls him not even an hour later.

"Eddie?" He sounds out of breath.

"Steve, hi!" He's relieved to hear him and suddenly realizes he doesn't remember the last time they actually talked. "Has Buckley talked to you already?"

"No?"

"Dustin then?"

"No- ah, yeah! He's mentioned you wanted to talk."

He's a bit disappointed Steve hasn't thought to reach out himself but it's better than nothing.

"Yeah, I Haven't seen you in a while, man. What have you been up to?"

"Uh, you know, just... This and that. Doing a lot of... Running. Exercises. You know."

Eddie doesn't know, but he's willing to nod along to keep the conversation going.

"Yeah, totally, you've been busy. Do you want to hang out maybe? Movie night, or, or..." He tries to come up with anything they could do together. "I got a new strain of weed we could test?" He offers.

Steve laughs at that, genuine and relaxed and Eddie relaxes at the sound himself.

"Sure, why not? Is tonight alright? I have a day off anyway."

Eddie's not prepared mentally and neither is his room but he agrees immediately.

"Sure, come over anytime."

"Okay I'll take a shower and I'm off."

When they meet up, everything seems normal. For about fifteen minutes.

Steve jumps whenever Eddie touches him, and his face is red, making Eddie look at him worriedly and ask if he's alright.

But all Steve can think about is “good boy” and belly scratches. When his leg twitches when Eddie touches his shoulder, he jumps off the couch, mortified by his body's reactions.

"Do you have a dog?!" he almost yells, looking around in panic.

Eddie blinks at him.

"Uh, no?" But then he frowns. "I mean, there is a dog," he corrects, and his brows crease in worry. "Wait, are you allergic?"

"Yes!" Steve points his finger at him. "I gotta go, man, sorry, I'm itching all over," he spits out fast, walking backward toward the exit and almost running into a wall. "But it was great seeing you, uh, bye!"

The doors slam shut and Eddie's left alone and confused, the reality show host still yelling from the screen.

[rottiens]

HUNTER┊RYOMEN SUKUNA

tags. read part two here (optional), mutual pinning, childhood friends, modern au, primal play.

"You want me to run?" You're obviously confused, a puzzled reaction forming on your face at the same time a never-quite smile tugs at your lips.

"Just like when we were kids — don't you think it'll be fun?"

Sukuna is smiling, you can see his pearly teeth even break through the dark jet night.

A nervous smile tempts to break out, you hold it back by biting your lower lip. Your heart is pounding, like a drum pushing against your ribs. The sound of the city festival (music, noise, parade) comes muffled by the din of adrenaline in your ears.

"And you want to chase me…" you reason. "What's in it for me if you don't catch me?"

Sukuna was going to catch you, he always did when you were little. You were out of shape because you hadn't run in years, hadn't played hide and seek in years and yet there's something behind his big eyes full of excitement and apparent thrill at the idea of chasing you that makes you smirk.

Sukuna folds his arms, you wonder what he's thinking when he doesn't answer right away.

"We can go back to the silly festival, ride the roller coaster and…"

You interrupt him. "What if you win?" you swallow, trembling slightly. There's eagerness in your voice that you can't disguise.

"I guess you'll have to find out— One…" Sukuna begins to count, suddenly squatting down to tighten the laces of his combat boots.

"Sukuna.. I'm not ready! Wait!" Exasperated, nervous and with a knotted stomach you try to reason with him to give you more time to think.

The forest is dark, bathed in colored lights and fireworks that break the harmony of the sky, your shoes are not made for running, and what happens when he finds you?

Why does the idea of him finding you excite you so much, why does the idea make your nipples ache and your pussy throb? This was your best friend, you weren't supposed to feel this way about him.

"Two…" his smile widens as do his shoulders when he stands up again, your fear making him look bigger than he really is, his chest is tight under his sweatshirt, his shoulders big and strong and his jaw clenched, holding back the tension the idea of hunting you makes him feel.

You swallow, dry your hands on the denim of your pants and take two steps away from him… the number "three" is on the tip of his pretty lips, pierced by that silver hoop. Before he opens his mouth or you can command your limbs, you find yourself running for the trees, fast, as fast as you physically can.

[borathae]

↳ Index [Snippet #43 - Date Night]

"When you and Jungkook have your bi-monthly date night."

Genre: married life!AU, slice of life Fluff, Smut

Warnings: this is a two part story where one is a cute date and the other is them being kinky, a cute at-home dinner date, stargazing at the beach, i don’t think you guys understand. they’re in fucking love, cuddles, loving kisses, comforting intimacy, silly jokes and happy giggles, they share a blanket, he's a cutie, but also way too hot to handle, making out, neck kisses, the rest of the warnings are for the smut, rough but also soft Dom!Jungkook, sub!Reader, she's deep in safe subspace, he's so greedy for her orgasms, thigh humping, use of leather handcuffs, he is pierced & tattooed, lingerie kink, perfume kink, ass spanking, hole spanking with his cock, hair pulling, they use the traffic light system and he does something very sexy with it, besties i need him to run me over, he calls her princess & babygirl, praise, good girl kink, dirty talk, sexy possessive talk, oral in multiple positions (f.receiving) -> face sitting & propped up against pillows, vaginal fingering, strength kink, nipple sucking, he's both gentle & rough with her, multiple intense orgasms for her & him, he makes her squirt more than once, use of lube, he spits on her hole jjsj, passionate pronebone, rough doggy, he uses her handcuffs as leverage, the fact that he is both a head pusher and a hip puller, i need to be restrained, he's also an ass man, which means he will rub her hole as he fucks her and talks about fucking it, creampies, remember how i talked about wanting to include the Daddy kink at least once with this couple? this is the drabble, and as someone who normally has the Daddy kink on her no-no-list let me tell you that IT IS HOT, besties i'm losing it what is kook doing to me, cuddly & giggly aftercare, they're in love and kinky <3

Wordcount: 15.5k it's long but you sluts get a cute date AND kinky sex

a/n: you guys don't understand. you guys don't understand. jungkook consumes my every thought. fuck istfg it's so hard being a jungkook stan. i fucking blame him and his recent attidute. like, i always knew he is a greedy lover but it's escalating. this man doesn't need the sheets to be wet after, he needs them to be SOAKED and i know that i'm right. i fucking can't take it anymore i need to be put down like a rabid animal. enjoy besties 🧡 ps: i apologise for the long warnings hahaha i always wanna make sure you guys KNOW what happens in my smut

You are genuinely obsessed with your husband. If there was ever a competition of wife most obsessed with her husband you would win it.

You love the way he looks when he just woke up, making breakfast in nothing but his briefs and his hair still a total mess. You love how he greets you in a groggy yet loving voice and how you always end up with him as your warm, toasty backpack as you listen to the morning radio and watch the sunlight catch in your window crystals. 

You love the way he looks when he comes straight out of the shower, hair still damp and lower body hidden behind a towel. You love when he wears a face mask and how he always smells especially good during those post-shower moments where you cuddle into him and smell his skin.

You love the way he looks when he leaves for work, all well-put together and you love how he looks when he comes home again, just a little less well-put together. You love that he always greets you with a hug-kiss-combination and that he says goodbye the same way.

You love how he looks when he comes back from a work out or swim and how he always greets you with a kiss on the cheek and a nonchalant “the workout was especially good today. I feel like I can do anything” and how on most days, he gives you a little cocky flex of his muscles.

You love how he looks when he works in the garden, how he mows the lawn and cuts the scrubs, how he renovates the decking or sweeps the driveway. 

You love how he looks when he works in the house, when he cleans or does laundry or cooks, when he does repairs and silly little tasks.

You love how he looks when he is relaxing next to you in nothing but scrubby sweats and a wrinkled shirt, when he is watching TV or sketching tattoos.

You love how he looks when he is cuddled up in bed ready for sleep. When his eyes are just a little droopier than usual and he takes ages to finish a sentence because he is so sleepy and yet he still wants to talk.

You love how he looks when he is eating and drinking and laughing and having fun. How he looks when he smiles, but also how he looks when he cries or gets angry.

You love him, you love him, you love how he is so perfectly himself in every single moment of life. 

And tonight you can’t wait to have him with you again.

It was your turn to cook tonight because you weren’t working today while Jungkook had been busy with responsibilities since the early morning. So early in fact, that you missed out on post-wake-up-Jungkook. You missed out on so much. 

Next to today being your free day, it was also a very special day. Bi-monthly date night. In theory, today’s theme would have been outdoor activities, but you and Jungkook agreed via text not to go out today and instead stay in. 

Which was perfectly fine with you because it meant that you could cook his favourite food and prepare a cozy evening. You love cooking for him. It brings you a lot of joy to prepare something yummy and to know that he finds happiness through delicious food. 

And tonight, you made it look especially pretty. You even decorated the dining table and slipped into one of Jungkook’s favourite dresses, wearing the jewellery he got for you throughout your years together.

You are just about to put the last finishing touches on the plating when the door to the garage opens and closes. 

“Sweetie! I’m home!”

“In the kitchen!” you tell him, feeling giddy in excitement.  

You work quickly to bring the food to the table, managing just in time before Jungkook already enters the kitchen.

He is smiling the second he lays eyes on you, looking dishevelled from a long day and carrying a bouquet of flowers and a box of cake from Seokjin’s diner.

“Wow look at you, you’re beautiful”, he says as he places the cake on the island counter. He meets you in the middle, allowing you to pull him down as you throw yourself around his neck. He snakes his arm around your waist, caressing your lower back as happy giggles leave him, “happy date night, sweetheart.”

“Happy date night, Kookie”, you are talking into the crook of his neck, swaying your bodies from side to side. He smells like outside and motor grease because he helped Hoseok in the garage today with some bike repairs, “how was your day?”

“Long and exhausting, but not bad. I’m happy to be home with you.”

“I’m proud of you, baby. You managed today”, you praise him which makes him giggle and squeeze you, “and I made you food because I love you.”

Jungkook sways with you, resting his chin on your shoulder while his eyes drink in everything you did. They lower more and more as your presence is relaxing him immensely. 

“You made my favourite”, he says, smiling. 

“Mhm yeah I did. It’s date night after all.”

“I love you, baby”, he says and tugs you closer, “mhm and you’re wearing my favourite dress. Sweetie, you’re looking too good to be true”, he says and runs his hand to your ass to grab it and squeeze. He doesn’t do it with an ulterior motive in mind. Grabbing, squeezing and slapping your butt is merely one of Jungkook’s love languages. It’s as normal with him as giving cheek kisses.

“I dressed up for you”, you say 

“I’m so blessed. Shit, I can’t believe I got lucky enough to marry you. You’re the most beautiful woman, ___”, he says and hums, wrapping you up in a strong hug as his lips attack your cheek with the biggest smooch in humankind. It makes you giggle and squeak because it feels so good to be adored by him. 

He steps back afterwards, keeping his hand on your hip as he guides the flowers into your vision.

“For my one true love.” 

“Gosh, Kookie. Thank you so much. I love them”, you accept them with a fluttering heart, inspecting them giddily, “oh my god, my favourites. There’s so many of my favourites in the bouquet!”

“Do you like it? The flower lady said that they’re one of the last of the season. I would have gotten more, but she didn’t have any more.”

“I love them. Oh, I love them so much. Thank you so, so much”, you say and lean in for a kiss. 

The kiss lasts around two seconds and then Jungkook breaks it again. He licks his lips, covering his mouth with his hand.

“I feel like I’ve got bad breath, sorry”, he says.

“No, it’s okay. You’ve had worse”, you assure him.

“Wow, that’s reassuring”, he jokes, breathing into his own hand to check, “it’s bad, isn’t it? Sorry, I didn’t eat or drink anything today.”

“You just taste hungry, it’s fine”, you tell him and giggle, “I gotta put the flowers into water. Get comfy and start eating already, sweetie.”

Jungkook smiles, “I will. Just gotta hop in the shower quickly. It’ll take five minutes. I hope you don’t mind. I feel really disgusting.”

“No, I don’t mind. I already planned  in your shower in my schedule”, you say, making him chuckle.

“Thank you, baby”, he says as he leaves the kitchen, “I got Seokjin’s cheesecake for dessert.”

“I know, I saw. Thank you so much”, you call after him as you store the cake box he put on the kitchen island in the fridge for now.

Jungkook comes back looking as handsome as ever. He changed out of his work clothes into some jeans and a jeans shirt which he kept unbuttoned to show off the white t-shirt underneath. He also styled his hair a little and brushed his teeth. 

“Ooh look at you”, you say and whistle.

“Thank you, thank you”, Jungkook says, striking a pose, “I tried”, he says and turns to show off his butt, “look at my ass”, he says, looking over his shoulder. 

“Gadyam that ass is to die for”, you say in a funny accent, whistling passionately to really get the message across.

“Yeah, right?” he slaps his own ass.

“The real cake’s your ass, baby.”

Jungkook laughs, stumbling because of it. You snicker, scrunching your nose. 

“You look so handsome, Kookie”, you say.

“Yeah, heh”, he lets out a soft giggle, touching the side of his neck, “thanks.”

“Now look at the food please. I worked so hard on it”, you say, pushing him to the dining table gently.

“Uuuh show me pretty food”, he coos, doing a little dance as he gets shoved to the table. He lets you sit him down, looking at the food intently, “wow darling, this is the prettiest plate I ever saw. I don’t wanna touch it ‘cause I’ll ruin it.”

You give his shoulders a gentle massage, bouncing on the spot excitedly, “no try it. Try it.”

Jungkook cuts off a piece of the perfectly grilled meat, dips it in some sauce and guides it to his lips. He eats it deliciously, frowning the deepest frown instantly.

“Mhm”, he exhales, dropping against you in a dramatic faint. He keeps his eyes close, chewing deliciously as his frown lines grow. 

His reactions to good food will always make you snicker. He’s so adorable.

“Like it?”

Jungkook looks up at you, frowning at you. He nods his head.

“It’s amazing. Thank you baby, I love it”, he says with a full mouth.

“I’m happy to hear that”, you say, smooching his forehead. You give his shoulders one last squeeze and then hurry to your spot. You picked the chair at the end of the table and next to Jungkook so you could be close but still look at each other. 

You pull it out halfway and then Jungkook jumps up.

“Wait! Let me”, he exclaims, snatching the chair from you.

“Oh? Well, thank you good sir”, you snicker, letting him help you with sitting down.

“Of course my beautiful lady”, he says and fixes the chair for you. He touches your shoulders, running his hands down your arms as he leans in for a loving kiss to the side of your neck. 

You tilt your head, allowing him access. His lips are soft, his piercings tickle your skin, his content purr swirls over your neck. 

“You’re wearing perfume”, he rasps, dragging his nose up and down your neck while his fingers feel up your upper arms. 

“It’s date night.”

“Fuck baby, I feel like I gotta do more. You’re looking like a goddess and smelling like heaven and I’m over here looking like shit”, he says.

“No, you don’t. You look handsome.”

“I smell like grease. I washed my arms so thoroughly, but I still smell like it.”

“It’s a sexy smell. Don’t worry”, you say, “I like it when you work in Hobi’s garage. It’s hot.” 

“Mhm, you’re too good to me”, he says, kissing the shell of your ear, “if you let me, I’m gonna make you see stars later”, he whispers, biting your earlobe gently and sending shivers down your spine with it.

“Don’t talk like this”, you whisper.

Jungkook chuckles, “why not?”

“Because it’s making me shy.”

“You are not shy, come on baby”, he laughs, “you like it. Don’t pretend that you don’t.” 

“Whatever”, you murmur, “eat your food, you sweet talker.”

“Mhm, I will. Food’s amazing.”

Jungkook eats with a frown, humming and moaning in enjoyment. His reactions make cooking so worthwhile. Preparing food wouldn’t be the same without the aspect of Jungkook aggressively enjoying it afterwards. You can’t stop watching him, feeling your heart flutter. 

You are truly so obsessed with your husband. 

“Did you finish the bike today?” you ask him, fighting the urge to reach out and trace his features. 

“Yeah, we did. Wah baby, you have no idea what a struggle that was”, he says and purses his lips in a pout.

“Yeah? What happened?”

“The oil fuse acted up and we had to disassemble so much more than we initially planned. Wah and then the new one didn’t wanna fit, I seriously. Seriously”, he squeaks the last word to really pronounce how much he wanted to do it, “wanted to throw the whole bike.”

“Wah that sounds annoying. Did you fix the issue?”

“Mhm of course”, he is smirking cockily, lifting his brows, “your hubby knows what’s up with bikes, ‘course I fixed the issue.”

“You’re so cool”, you say, ruffling his hair gently, “I married a genius.”

He scrunches his nose, wiggling his shoulders happily, “yeah, heh”, he is talking cutely again, gazing at you with sparkling eyes. 

“And the tattoo? Did she really come?”

“Mh-hm yeah”, he nods his head, “she got it and then we even agreed on a second appointment for another tattoo.”

“Oh? That’s nice. In the same style?”

“Yup, she wants it to match. I already have ideas for it, but I can’t draw anymore today.”

“Course not, it’s date night”, you say, nudging his cheek. 

“Yeah obviously that’s the main reason”, he says, making you chuckle. He smiles and shoves a big bite of the amazing food into his mouth. He chews happily, washing it down with another bite. He really loves the food. He will never take it for granted when you cook. He feels so lucky to be yours, he really does. 

He swallows the food and takes a sip of the beer, then talks.

“What’s your plan for tonight?” he asks.

“I was thinking dinner first and then we take dessert down to the beach and do some stargazing.”

“I love it”, he says, smiling dreamily.

“You do?” 

“Mhm yeah”, he brushes the back of his hand down your cheek, ending it with a gentle touch to your upper lip.

“Don’t. I’m wearing lipstick.”

“Oop. Sorry”, he gasps, pulling his finger away, “baby don’t wear lipstick, I mean you look beautiful and it fits you so fucking good, but what about the kissies?” he whines, making you laugh.

“As if you ever cared about getting lipstick on yourself. You can still get your kissies.”

“Yeah true”, he grins, looking at your lips. He moves in for a kiss, teasing you just a little by nibbling on your lower lip. He gives you a playful smirk as he moves back, letting his eyes run over your face, “you’re so pretty”, he says and eats a big bite of the food, “mhm and food’s amazing. Wah, so good.”

“You make me happy, you know?” you say and eat as well. 

Jungkook smiles, “you make me happy too, baby.” 

You clean the kitchen together before leaving for the beach. Jungkook is wiping the counters while you busy yourself with loading the dishwasher. Except that you get as far as loading the plates and one pot before Jungkook turns around at the noise of it.

“Baby, what are you doing?” 

“Loading the dishwasher. We’re quicker together.”

“But you already cooked. Baby, don’t do that”, he laughs and hurries to you so he could hug you from behind and walk you away from the dishwasher this way. He blows raspberries on your neck as he does, making you belt out a squeaky laugh. 

“Stop that, eek”, you squeal, fighting him with squirms. 

Ones Jungkook easily manages. It results in him attacking your neck once again and for you to almost choke on your laughter. 

He laughs, giving your neck a little bite to end it with. He twirls you in his arms and lifts you on top of the kitchen island. He runs his hands up your torso to cup your cheeks and squish them gently.

“That was so awful”, you laugh, wiping at your neck. 

“No, it wasn’t. It was fun.”

“Says that person who did the slobbering.”

“Excuse me? I didn’t slobber”, he laughs, squishing your cheeks more vigorously.

You snicker, giving him a look which lets him know that you were teasing him. His eyes soften.

“My cutie”, he says, pulling you in for a kiss. 

You sigh and touch his neck, hoping for so much more but getting nothing than a gentle peck. He puts distance between your faces, soothing over your face gently. His eyes spill over with adoration. 

“Come back”, you say, pulling him close by the front of his shirt.

Jungkook lets you, grabbing your hips. He is smirking, studying your face.

“I want you to kiss me properly”, you say as you touch his undercut, “not just a stupid peck.”

“Mhm, I can do that”, he says in a seductive voice, leaning in for a proper kiss.

You sigh happily, keeping him close with your legs around his waist, while Jungkook increases the closeness by grabbing your ass. His hands feel so warm, gripping you with a comfortable strength.

You break the kiss with a soft tug on his lower lip, eliciting a happy purr from him.

“That was better”, you whisper, watching in delight how Jungkook gazes at your lips.

“Mhm yeah”, he rasps quietly, “it was pretty fucking good.”

“Yeah”, you giggle sweetly, wiping the lipstick from his lips, “now let’s go eat cake by the beach.”

���Wah baby, you’re mean. Kissing me like that and then expecting me to be normal.”

“Mh-hm yep. I’ve got what I wanted.”

“So you were just using me?”

“Mhm, yeah.”

Jungkook chuckles, squeezing your ass. His eyes sparkle, showing how into the flirting he is.

“I’ve got something waiting for you on the beach. Do you wanna see?”

“Oh? Another surprise?”

You give him a wiggle of your brows and a mischievous grin. Jungkook squeezes your butt in reaction, looking excited.

“Fine”, he chuckles, “let’s go eat cake by the beach.”

You hold hands as you walk through the garden, enjoying the mild night. You take the steps down to the beach, using the faint stair lights as your guidance. Jungkook holds your hand the entire way down, making you feel so much safer. 

Once you are almost down by the beach, you turn. You grab Jungkook’s small waist, beaming up at him. 

“Close your eyes.”

“Now? On the stairs?” 

“Yeah.”

 “But baby, what if I fall?” 

“Trust me. Imma keep you safe. Please Googie.” 

“Okay?” Jungkook says and closes his eyes, “baby, you gotta hold my hands now.”

“Here grab ‘em.”

“Where are you? Baby”, he whines  making you laugh.

“Right. Here”, you intertwine your fingers, “you doofus, stop panicking.” 

“It’s scary stuff, good ma’am”, he jokes, eliciting yet another laugh from you. You won’t ever stop laughing at his antics. He is truly the funniest person alive. 

“Just follow me. There are two more steps and then we’ll be in the sand. There we go, just keep walking. One more step, careful you’re at the edge, okay step down. And we’re down.”

“Can I open my eyes now?”

“No. Follow my voice, I’ll guide you.”

“You’re making it so dramatic. What did you prepare?”

“Something. Almost there. Aaand open your eyes.”

Jungkook obeys, letting out a loud gasp instantly. 

“Wow baby, this is beautiful!”

You set up a picnic blanket on the sand. You didn’t dare to go too close to the water because you know how high the ocean can rise overnight. Instead, you picked out a dry spot close to the steps, using fairylights to illuminate the night.

You pick up a vase of flowers from the blanket, presenting it to him.

“We had the same idea. Happy date night, baby”, you say.

“You got me flowers? Baby. Thank you”, Jungkook gasps in a breathy voice, accepting the flowers with gleaming eyes, “they’re beautiful, wow baby.”

“Do you like them?”

“Of course I do. Wow, thank you”, Jungkook drapes his arm around your waist to pull you in for a kiss. And another kiss on your cheek with a loud, “mwuah.”

You giggle, rubbing his chest gently.

“Thank you so much. Wah, my heart’s racing like crazy.”

“I know. I can feel it”, you scrunch your nose happily, “wanna eat the cake now?”

“Yeah. Wow, I still can’t believe you got me flowers. We can put our bouquets next to each other so they’re a couple too.”

“That would be so cute. Yes, let’s do that.” 

You and he get comfortable on the blanket. Jungkook places the vase in the sand  while you open the cake box, revealing two pieces of cake. Your fairylights and the stair lights give you enough vision. 

“Mhhm that looks amazing”, you say, handing Jungkook his fork. 

“Yeah, it looks yummy. Uh! Uh-uh”, he stops you from poking your cake, fighting off your fork gently.

“What’s with you?” you ask in a chuckle.

“Let me”, he says and breaks off a piece. 

“Fine. A woman can’t do anything here.”

“Exactly”, he says, making you snort and laugh in amusement.

You watch him with fond eyes. He lifts the piece to his lips and kisses it, before guiding it to your mouth. You accept it with giggles, looking deep into his eyes because he is enchanting you like crazy. Once the piece of cake is in your mouth, Jungkook leans closer and kisses your lips. 

You and he chuckle into it, ending it with a gentle nose rub. 

“Thanks”, you say, chewing the cake.

“Mhm ‘course. My queen shouldn’t have to work”, he says and pokes the cake with his fork. He breaks off a piece and eats it, furrowing his brows in approval. 

Your heart flutters. You can’t take it anymore. You love this man so much. You close the distance so you can fall into his side and rest your cheek on his shoulder, letting out an almost girly giggle as your eyes gaze up at him.

Jungkook cranes his neck to kiss your forehead, then rests his head against yours. He drapes his arm over you, rubbing your skin gently. 

“God baby, you’re freezing”, he gasps, “do you want my shirt?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“No. No, it’s not okay. Come on, take my shirt”, he says, scrambling to get it off. He gets on his knees behind you and drapes it over your shoulders, smoothing his hands down your arms.

The shirt smells like him. His warmth lingering in the jeans fabric seeps into your body. You weren’t even cold and yet it still feels so much better with his shirt hugging you.

“How’s that?”

You crane your neck to look at him.

“Better. Thank you.”

“Mhm”, he leans down to kiss your forehead.

You enjoy it with closed eyes and a racing heart. 

Jungkook sits down next to you again after the forehead kiss, breaking off a piece of cheesecake to eat.

“No”, you push it off his fork.

“Hey, not cool”, Jungkook laughs.

“Let me”, you say and pick up the piece. You guide it to your lips for a kiss before feeding it to Jungkook.

“You used my tricks. That’s cheating”, he giggles and gets his complains kissed away. Two kisses on his lips and one on his jawline. He leans into the jawline kiss, closing his eyes. 

“My king shouldn’t have to work”, you whisper and kiss his favourite spot on his jawline 

“Mhm, you feel good”, he purrs.

“Mhm and you smell good”, you whisper, giving him one last kiss before sitting back again. You break off a piece of the sweet cake and eat it.

Jungkook glances at you, shuddering visibly.

“You made tingles go down my back”, he confesses, “that spot feels good.”

“Yeah?”

He nods his head, shoving a piece of cake into his mouth afterwards. He chews with his eyes just slightly widened.

“I liked it too.”

“Yeah, my sweetie”, Jungkook murmurs and relaxes with a sigh. He lets his eyes drift to the dark ocean, enjoying another piece of cake as he does.

You do the same, eating it while your heart is going haywire in your chest. You stay like this until you finish the cake. You can’t take the heart palpitations anymore. You glance at him. Jungkook notices and meets your eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing, just making sure that you’re real.”

“And? Am I?” he is smiling.

“I don’t know yet”, you say, leaning closer, “I don’t know if I’ll ever really believe that I’m living my life. It’s so perfect.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty fucking epic.”

“And you’re so perfect.”

“Come on, I’m far from perfect”, he flusters.

“You’re perfect to me. Being with you just doesn’t lose its spark.”

“Yeah, I feel the same”, he says, draping his arm around you, “I think it’s really fucking amazing that we both put so much effort into our relationship. It means a lot to me because I want to put work into us, so it feels good that you reciprocate it.” 

“Of course I do. It’s a lot work, but I’m not exhausted by it at all and I enjoy it so much. It’s work I look forward to and I get the most joy out of.”

“I enjoy it as well, sweetie. It never feels exhausting. I actually really love it.”

“Yes, I love it too.”

You cuddle into him. He rests his head against yours.

“I love date nights. They’re the best.”

“They are”, he agrees, “I’ve already got ideas for outdoor date night.”

“You do?”

“Mh-hm. What do you think about burgers at Seokjin’s and then bowling down in Saint Marco?”

“Yes, I’d love that. But we gotta take pics at the photo booth this time around.”

“Yeah, right”, he chuckles, “still can’t believe that we didn’t do it last time.”

“Yeah we were idiots.”

“Yeah”, he chuckles and kisses the crown of your head.

You and he share a few snuggles and enjoy the quiet of the beach. The waves come and go in quiet gurgles. The far away road is louder than the ocean right now. The sound of a bike passes you by. You wonder if it was one of your friends. Maybe Taehyung is on his way home, maybe Jimin finished his shift at the club. Perhaps Yoongi is on his way to his husband, bringing flowers like you know him. Or maybe it was a stranger passing through town. Whoever it might have been, you hope that they arrive safely at their destination.

“I’m so obsessed with you Kook, it’s literally mental”, you break the silence and laugh, “you still manage to give me butterflies.”

“Good, cause you’re givin’ me butterflies too. Like, so many.” 

You smile, craning your neck to look at him. He meets your eyes and smiles, leaning in for a kiss. He tastes like cheesecake and smiles. You taste the same. The kiss is so nice. So perfect. So amazing. 

Being with each other is the best thing in the world. 

You stub each other’s noses to end the kiss, turning your attention to the dark ocean afterwards. The stars are bright tonight, courtesy of the moon missing as it is currently a new moon. 

You glance at him again. You thought that you can handle those tingles by now, but you can’t. You fall into him again, hugging his waist and nuzzling your nose into his upper arm as little giggles leave you. 

Jungkook lets it happen with a fluttering heart.

“You’re so touchy today”, he says, draping his arm over you.

“I just love you so much”, you say, swaying him from side to side aggressively.

“I love you too, sweetie”, Jungkook chuckles, letting it happen. It ends with you and him falling down onto the blanket. The cake box was thankfully empty because you sent it flying with a clumsy kick. 

“Careful”, Jungkook laughs.

“Sorry, god, lost balance”, you snicker. 

“I figured”, Jungkook giggles and rolls to his back, staring up into the dark sky with his hair tousled on the blanket. You do the same, reaching above your head to turn off the fairy lights. The automatic stair lights already turned off by now, so you and he find yourselves in total darkness 

“Woah, dark”, Jungkook gasps.

“Sorry, should have warned you. We can see the stars better this way.”

“Yeah right”, Jungkook settles into the blanket, “I love this”, he says and goes to hold your hand.

“Me too”, you answer him and hold his hand as tightly as possible. 

You don’t feel like you age with Jungkook. Of course you and he grow older and it’s the best feeling in the world to know that you do it together, but you don’t feel older with him. When you are with him, you will always feel young. And when you hold hands, you know that just for a short moment in history you and he can actually stop time. 

Only the moving stars and the singing ocean are proof that time never stops. It’s okay though, because you have Jungkook and Jungkook has you. A cool breeze swirls over your bodies. 

“Brrr”, Jungkook lets out and cuddles into you, “I’m cold. Gimme sum of that shirt”, he says as he tries to wiggle himself under it.

“Wait Kook, I’ve got a second blanket”, you laugh and sit up to snatch it.

“You really came prepared, didn’t you?” 

“Of course. It’s date night”, you say and unfold the blanket with the help of the wind, “and we need something to stay warm for stargazing”, you add as you lie back down.

You hand Jungkook one end of the blanket and together, you manage to cover your bodies with it. Jungkook wiggles happily, rolling to his side so he could drape his arm over your stomach and kiss your cheek.

“So cozy”, he mumbles, kissing your cheek again.

You nuzzle closer, “yeah, cozy and warm.”

“Mhm, yeah”, Jungkook is whispering as he can’t seem to stop kissing your cheek and jawline. He gives you a soft squeeze, exhaling against your neck, “you smell so good.”

You lean into his kisses, closing your eyes halfway. You reach up to run your hands along the arm he has around you, sharing in comfort this way. It feels so nice to be with each other.

“No but seriously, how do you smell so nice?” he whispers.

“I put on perfume.”

“I know, but it’s insane how good you smell like”, he nuzzles his nose into you to the point where it squishes, “I can’t get enough of it.”

You giggle, moving away just a little because the movement tickled. Jungkook soothes it with kisses.

“And you’re so pretty in your dress”, he continues to fanboy, caressing your side with his fingertips, “and the jewellery fits you so well and then your makeup looks flawless. Wah baby, you’re seriously making my heart race.”

You giggle, feeling like bursting in happiness. It feels so good to have your effort appreciated. You feel even prettier than you already did.

Jungkook sighs happily, cuddling closer.

“My wifey”, he whispers, squeezing you gently, “my lovely wifey.”

“Kookie oh god”, you squeal and overtaken by happiness, you roll over to attack his face with kisses. You squish his cheeks between your hands for it, making him giggle.

You have the upper hand for a second before Jungkook rolls you onto your back and scoops you up in his arms, attacking your face and neck with kisses and nuzzles. 

You squeak at first but soon end up cackling in a rather unflattering manner. To Jungkook, it is the sweetest sound ever. This is what your true happiness sounds like. You couldn’t fake this even if you tried to. 

“Mhm baby”, Jungkook stops his kisses, lifting his head. He’s got your hands pinned above your head, clutched tightly in his fingers. You gaze up at him, feeling so safe like this. Jungkook studies your features. They look so pretty, “fuck baby, you’ve got me wanting to act up. I love it when you laugh.”

“Koo”, you whisper, squeezing his hands.

This nickname. Jungkook knows that it only falls from your lips when he’s got you feeling submissive. It’s during those moments when he made you feel safe and giddy and taken care of. It won’t ever lose its spark for him. 

“Mhm, baby?” he asks, placing his elbows on each side of your head. Your arms stretch further above your head, his fingers tighten around your hands.

“I don’t know”, you breathe, looking at his pierced lips, “just wanted to say it.” 

“You’re so cute”, he whispers and steals a kiss. You make sure he doesn’t leave by chasing him. 

Jungkook allows you to kiss him and play with his lip piercings. You love to trace them with your tongue, suck them between your lips and gently tug on them with your teeth. He loves when you do that. It feels so good to him, getting him all riled up for you.

The blanket is keeping you warm. Jungkook is halfway on top of you, having one of his legs between yours. The ocean is rushing in the background, but the only sounds you really take in, are Jungkook’s little noises. He is such a vocal kisser, always letting you know that he loves it. His hands are pinning you down, his grip is so gentle yet strong.

You break the kiss because you needed to squirm and look at him, “Koo”, you keen quietly, rubbing your thighs against his leg. His jeans feel rough against your skin.

“Yes, princess?” Jungkook whispers in a raspy voice and his eyes gleaming in fondness.

You giggle, growing smaller in safe submission. Jungkook chuckles deeply, lowering his eyes halfway. 

“My princess”, he rasps, eliciting another giggle from you. 

You can’t explain what he makes you feel. It’s a sensation deep in your chest. Your heart races and you can genuinely sense a giddiness around it. Safety and comfort fills you as well. And the desire to be completely and utterly his’. All you know is that you love this feeling and that tonight it feels especially good. 

“Koo, I wanna kiss you.”

“I wanna kiss you too, princess”, Jungkook says and abandons your wrists for the sake of cradling your cheeks. You cup his face instantly, pulling him into a kiss.

Jungkook purrs happily, finding your rhythm without problems. He kissed you enough times by now that he knows exactly how you like it. 

Your hands slide to the back of his head, feeling up his prickly undercut. Jungkook moans softly, tracing your upper lip with his tongue to let you know that he likes the touch. You like it as well, repeating it over and over again.

You witnessed most of Jungkook’s hair phases. You witnessed his permed hair, his short hair, his long hair and every length in between. He currently keeps his hair short and with an undercut. You always help him keep it neat. It feels so good under your fingertips. Prickly when you dance them up and soft when you move them down again. 

Jungkook is moaning a lot which makes it feel even better. Bear in mind that his sounds aren’t of completely horny nature. No. Your husband also moans because of yummy food or a relaxing massage. His noises right now merely meant that he is enjoying this as much as he can. 

He rolls hips into your thigh, purring deeply. His knee rubs against your middle this way, sending warmth through you. Okay, perhaps there is also desire in his noises. 

“Fuck baby, you’re perfect”, Jungkook rasps and breaks the kiss for the sake of worshiping your neck, “my perfect princess. Mhm, babygirl. My babygirl”, he murmurs as his puffy lips dance over your neck and jawline.  

“Koo”, you sigh, “Koo, I wanna go back.”

“Yes?”

You nod your head.

“If that’s so. Come, princess”, he says and sits back on his heels, pulling you up with him. Like this, your legs are around him and he can touch your upper arms.

He is so much taller than you in this position, keeping your eyes locked on his face by doing nothing but existing.

“My pretty girl”, he whispers, caressing your cheek. 

You giggle, “Koo, stop teasing. I wanna leave.” 

“Fine, okay”, he laughs, “let’s go.”

You and he pack up together and go back to your house, holding hands as you do. You leave the blanket outside, wiping off your feet before entering. Jungkook carries the empty cheesecake boxes while you carry the blanket you used to cover yourselves with. You discard it on the armchair by the glass door while Jungkook leaves for the kitchen.

You and he meet in the hallway.

“Come with me”, you say, taking his hands.

“More surprises?” he gasps.

“Yeah”, you turn so you are facing him as you walk, “in my room.”

“Baby, goddamn it. You’re doing too much. My heart can handle only that much”, he gushes, making your own heart flutter.

“You’ll love it.”

“Of course I will. God, com’ere you perfect woman you”, he says and sweeps you off your feet to kiss you.

You giggle into the kisses, squeezing your legs around his waist as he carries you to your room.

You left the door open so it’s easy for Jungkook to enter the room without accidentally knocking you into the door. He knows that you and he arrived because his feet know the layout of your home blindly. The floors in your room are softer because you have most of it covered with vintage rugs. He sets you down, snaking his arms around you as his right hand naturally grabs your ass and squeezes. He hums into the kiss, tingling like crazy when your fingers scratch his undercut greedily.

“We gotta stop”, you murmur into the kiss.

“Why?” he asks into the kiss.

“The surprise.”

“Mhm you gotta break it”, he says and goes to kiss your neck, “I can’t stop without your help. Mhm baby, my baby”, he adds as his lips suck spots of sensitivity onto your skin.

“Koo”, you sigh, melting in his arm. You don’t want him to stop. He feels so good. Your entire body tingles and feels electric at the same time. You don’t want to stop, but you have to. It will be worth it. You push at his chest gently, breaking the kisses this way.

Jungkook stumbles back, licking his puffy lips hungrily. He touches your waist, gazing at you longingly.

“Close your eyes please”, you tell him.

“Fuck, you’re messing with me”, he says in a deep chuckle, but obeys. He even covers them with his hands as he naturally begins to play with his own lip piercings.

You work quickly to get ready. You don’t want to stop kissing either, so being apart from him is just as torturous for you than it is for him. You take off your dress and the shirt he borrowed you, but keep the jewellery on. You check to see if the set of lingerie you picked out sits nicely on your body and then get on top of the mattress. He has his back turned to you

“Okay, open your eyes”, you tell him.

Jungkook obeys, “huh? where are you?” he asks and looks around the room.

“Here.”

He turns.

“Holy fuck baby”, he gasps, falling to his knees instantly, “look at you. What are you doing? Baby”, he asks in an enchanted laugh and his hands cradling your cheeks instantly.

You kneeled down on the mattress, presenting a pair of black leather handcuffs to him.

“Look at you. Holy fuck, look at you. Baby, fuck babygirl”, he babbles as he lets his hands run over your body hungrily, “is this a new set? I’ve never seen it before.”

“Yeah, it’s new. Do you like it?”

“I fucking love it. Holy shit, you’re so fucking beautiful. babygirl, please just”, he comes closer and squeezes your waist, “holy fuck, just holy fuck.”

He exhales shakily and finally looks at the handcuffs you present perfectly on the palms of your hands.

“What’s that?” he asks and picks them up.

You turn your back to him and present your wrists to him behind your back. You make sure to arch so he can have the perfect view of your ass and just how little fabric is covering it.

Jungkook growls hungrily, placing his big hand on your hip while his lips begin nipping on your shoulder desperately.

“Did you wear this under the dress?” he asks.

“Yeah”, you sigh, rolling your head back to rest it against him.

“Holy fuck and I had no idea. Oh my fucking god, I might pass out”, he gets out and rolls his crotch against your ass, “I’m gonna fuck you so fucking hard, babygirl. You’ve brought this upon yourself, I hope you’re aware of it.”

“Yeah”, you whimper, meeting his needy grinds, “Koo please tie me up. I need to be punished.”

“Yeah you do”, Jungkook rasps in his sexy Dom voice, biting your neck gently, “my sexy woman, fuck I could eat you up”, he adds and breaks away from you with a heavy heart. He wants to keep kissing you and grinding against you, but he has some hands to tie.

He works skillfully. Those handcuffs aren’t foreign to him. He tied you up with them a hundred times before and had the honour to be tied up with them just as many times. They’re a staple in your sexlife and up until now, they haven’t disappointed yet. He tightens them just enough that you feel pressure around your wrists, but not tight enough to cause pain. He checks the tightness with a finger asking you if you were feeling comfortable to which you said that you are.

He glides his hands to the back of your head. Your hair tangles with his fingers. He pushes, pressing you face first into the mattress. You let it happen with a needy moan and your ass chasing him in needy wiggles. He keeps his hand on your head while he undresses with his other hand. He makes sure that you can see it happening. His tattooed, bejeweled hand is working his belt open and later works on unbuttoning his jeans, all while his fingers are keeping a tight grip on your head. The aspect of power and feeling so vulnerable in his presence makes you dripping fucking wet. Jungkook slips his jeans down and somehow wiggles out of them.

“Stay down”, he orders in the end as he needs to use both hands to get them over his thighs. They’re huge thighs. No wonder he needs help.

You don’t even think about disobeying him. You rarely want to disobey him because you have such a great time being his sub that all you want is to receive, receive and receive all his attention. Jungkook is so smitten for you that he will be rough with you when you beg for it, so you don’t really feel like acting up. Not when you can simply beg for a punishment.

Jungkook keeps his briefs on. Tight Calvins, which seem so tiny now that his cock has grown so much. His bulge is huge, having grown all the way down his left leg as this is where he stuffed his cock. He takes off his shirt and throws it to the side.

Then he finally closes in on you again, connecting his crotch with your ass as he bends over. He buries his hand back in your hair, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear as he talks. His chest is pressed into your back, his nipple piercings are rubbing against you.

“You’re such a good girl. I didn’t even have to repeat my orders”, he rasps as he continuously grinds into your ass, “we’re gonna work with the traffic light system tonight ‘cause I need you to keep me in fucking check. Understood?”

“Yes”, you keen, wiggling your hands just to get a feel for his abs.

He tingles at your touch, rewarding you with a flex of his abs.

“Good girl. Let’s practice right now, okay?”

You nod your head as best as his tight grip allows you to.

“Good girl. I’ll ask you how you feel right now, then I’ll give you five spanks because you still need to get your punishment and then you’ll tell me again how you feel. Are we understood?”

“Yes”, your voice trembled as you spoke.

“Good girl. How do you-”

“Green”, you fall into his voice.

Jungkook chuckles, kissing your cheek, “fine, seven times. Naughty girl, falling into my question like that”, he rasps and straightens up. He runs his hand up and down your ass, holding you in place with his other hand on your hip.

You moan even if he is barely doing anything. You are so fucking needy for him. He knows exactly how to get your mind fucked. Making a play out of using the traffic light system is only something your husband could think of and it’s making you so needy that you want to keep chanting “green, green, green” over and over again. But you don’t. Instead you arch your back and wait for the first spank with your lungs barely wanting to work.

Jungkook lifts his hands and lands the first spank of seven.

“Ah”, you moan loudly and tremble. So much pressure released with this spank, but there is still so much left that it barely felt like relief.

Jungkook lifts his hand again. The connection is rough, forcing your ass to jiggle and you to moan. By the time Jungkook lands his third spank, you realise that he doesn’t relieve you of any of the pressure, on the contrary it is growing with each spank. With the fourth spank, you are fucking your hips back against nothing, moaning squeakily because the movement makes your panties grind against your clit and that feels so good right now.

“Stay still”, Jungkook orders, increasing his grip on your hip, “I didn’t tell you to squirm for me, did I?”

“Koo please”, you beg, arching your back.

“Yeah, that’s better. Keep arching your back, it makes your ass look so fucking perfect, babygirl”, he praises and rewards you with two consecutive spanks on your ass. Harsh and rough. Burning heat remains, pain crawls over your skin and stays because he keeps his hot palm pressed against you.

Only one more left. You wiggle your hands, spilling another moan. You are so sad that it’s almost over. He could spank you for the next hour and you wouldn’t grow bored.

Jungkook lifts his hand and lands the last spank, ending it by slipping his hand between your legs to rub your pussy over your panties. He does it with enough pressure to force your legs to tremble and for your voice to get incredibly squeaky as you moan.

“There we go. We did it”, he speaks as if he isn’t currently rubbing your pussy to a forced orgasm and making you shake like crazy in the process. His left hand still keeps gripping your hip to keep you in place. It’s like he isn’t even aware of what he is doing to you, “now tell me how you feel, babygirl.”

“Green”, you whine, “green, please Koo please.”

“There we go, such a good girl and so wet too”, he praises, slipping his hand away to instead grab your ass and part it for him. The fabric is small enough that he can see your hole this way. The most vulnerable part is still covered by your panties, but the pretty surrounding area is on full display just for him. You are clenching it needily, writhing in his hands.

“How was that for practice? Do you think you can do the traffic light system, babygirl?” he asks as he studies your hole. He is so obsessed with it, fighting the urge to lick you until you are soft enough that he can fill you with his cock. He shouldn’t be greedy. Not tonight.

“Yes, I can. Oh god, you’re hurting me”, you whine and sob softly.

“Needy?” he asks with a smirk.

“Yeah, please Koo please. Hurts. Wanna be fucked, please.”

He chuckles deeply and pushes your ass closed again slowly, “cute”, he says and gives your buttocks one last squeeze for good measures. He takes your panties off, making you moan with it. He doesn’t say anything to it however, which drives you so much more insane. It feels so nonchalantly to him while you are almost breaking apart. He places your soaked panties aside and studies you for a moment. Your pussy is wet and swollen and your hole is finally exposed to him completely.

“So pretty”, is all he says and then he breaks away from behind you to instead drop in the sheets beside you. You lift your head, looking at him with confusion. He wiggles to get comfortable and sighs once he is happy with his position, then he meets your eyes.

“Do you want me, mhm?” he taunts.

“Yes please”, you beg, sitting up so you can squeeze your legs together, “oh god, Koo. I feel so sensitive.”

“I know princess, I saw how you were shaking”, he taunts and smirks. He nods his head, “go sit on my face. I want you to.”

“Koo, oh god”, you get out. You love to obey this order even if it is hard to do so. You are so wobbly on your legs already and all he did was spank you and rub your clothed pussy. Yes, you are aware that he is doing so much more than that. The entire evening and the way he is taking control right now is adding to how wobbly you feel.

Thankfully for you, Jungkook helps you get on top of him, holding your hips safely.

“There we go”, he says, snuggling his head into the pillow as he helps you with those last few inches, “closer, babygirl.”

You obey, feeling your pussy throb in anticipation. You are pretty sure that you already dripped onto his face. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind, on the contrary. He moans as he turns his head and buries his face in your inner thigh. He moans again, inhaling hungrily.

“Fuck baby, you smell so good”, he purrs, nuzzling his nose into your inner thigh deeper. He inhales and exhales, “did you put perfume there too?”

“I did, yeah.”

“Baby”, he growls, grabbing your hips to squeeze them desperately, “fuck, I’m gonna go insane. You perfect woman you. Fucking sit on my face, babygirl. I’m actually serious.”

You relax just enough that he can finally tug you on top of his face. He growls deeply, welcoming your sweet pussy with an eager mouth. He goes gentle on normal days, guiding you into the sensations with soft kisses and tender licks. Tonight he doesn’t care about etiquette. Tonight he forces you into the sensation with eager sucks and hungry, wet licks, sending shakes through your legs.

“Sensitive”, you squeak out, scrunching your face, “Koo, I’m sensitive.”

“I know”, he is growling, “try to breathe babygirl”, he orders and continues his starved licks. He knows that you can take them. You just like to whine for the sake of it. Of course you’re sensitive, but you’re his good girl. You can take it. You have to take it because Jungkook can’t go slow tonight. You’ve got him desperate in desire.

You put so much effort into tonight. Way much effort than he anticipated for and he doesn’t take it for granted. He feels overwhelmed in love for you, he wants to rile you up just to make you cum over and over again until you physically can’t have another orgasm again. Only feasting on you like a starved man helps with it.  

You squirm above him, tugging at the handcuffs.

“Koo, I’m sensitive”, you whimper breathily, scrunching your eyes closed, “ah, mhm, ah plea- ah.”

He growls hungrily, grabbing your waist to keep you down on his mouth. He loves it when you shake and he especially loves it when you’re sitting on him as it happens. Your thighs are squeezing his head, worsening his hearing because they are over his ears. You feel so soft and warm that Jungkook hopes you squeeze him even harder. Your weight is perfect on his face to give him a sense of disorientation. He knows that he’s on your mattress, but if he didn’t have visual confirmation beforehand, he would have no idea where he is because currently all he sees, hears, feels, tastes and smells is you. This is the best kind of sensory distortion he could wish for.

Jungkook sucks your clit between his lips and begins suckling on it with deep moans rumbling in his chest. Your thighs shake around his head, you keen desperately.

It feels like burning electricity to have him eat you out. It is hard to breathe and yet you do way too much of it. You are panting, moaning between your breaths because this is all you can do. He already messed you up so much beforehand. His spanks, his words, his attitude and he nonchalant pussy rubbing he did, everything already made you so sensitive that you could have orgasmed right then and there. So to have his hot, dripping mouth make angry love to your pussy feels like too much.

“Sensitive, oh god”, you get out and then another wave of pleasure shakes your body, “Koo, oh god…”

The truth is, you love when he’s like that. Of course you love when he eases you into the sensations, when he is gentle and takes his time. But there is something especially hot about Jungkook losing his composure and eating you out as if you were his last meal on earth. He gets so rough with it, so disrespectful and messy. He doesn’t care about how dirty he gets or how many marks of sensitivity he leaves on your body. He is stronger and during those moments he doesn’t shy away from showing you just how much stronger he is. And that he will use this strength to keep you pinned on top of his eager mouth until you give him what he wants.

“Oh god Koo”, you whimper, convulsing on top of his face as he finally releases your pulsating clit to lick it quickly. He managed to get her so swollen and engorged that each flick of his tongue rewrites your definition of pleasure. “I have to cum. I’m sorry, I can’t hold it.”

Jungkook moans into you. He doesn’t slow down. He doesn’t give you time to catch your footing. No, this man likes that you are losing yourself, making sure that you are losing yourself even quicker.

“You’re so unfair”, you choke out and fall over the edge, “Koo, ah! You’re so unfair, a-ah.”

You collapse into the pillows, bending over so you could reach them. But even in the new position, Jungkook makes sure to keep your pussy locked onto his mouth as to lick you through your orgasm, growling and moaning into you as his hands leave bruises deep under your skin.

“Koo please holy fuck, please”, you wail into the pillow, shaking uncontrollably.

He growls into you, gripping your hips tightly to make sure you don’t flee before he allows you. You need to know what kind of orgasms you get when you put so much effort into date night. He needs you to fucking know that the more work you put into it, the harder he’ll make you cum. This is your reward as much as it is your punishment because Jungkook is going crazy for you.

“Stop please”, you beg, “oh god, I can’t do that, ah!” you plead, writhing on top of his face when he doesn’t slow down even now that your orgasm became overstimulation. Your clit is throbbing. Each time he drags his wet tongue over it, you swear that you have to pass out.

Your legs shake for a few more moments and then strength genuinely forsakes you. You collapse onto him, sitting your full weight on his face.

“Mhmhm”, he lets out in surprise, lifting you off as best as possible.

“Sorry, ah”, you whimper, fleeing instantly. You sit down in the sheets next to him, looking at him with glassy eyes, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine”, his voice is rough in the sexiest way, “just squished my nose, it didn’t hurt. Are you okay?”

“No, I’m embarrassed. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Hey”, he sits up and cups your face to pull you into a kiss. He is covered in your orgasm, feeding you your taste with sloppy, addictive tongue kisses.

He kisses you until he can hear you whimper again. He knows that he’s got you distracted and so he breaks the kiss with a soft tug on your lower lip.

“Are you quiet, mhm?” he asks.

You nod your head, looking at him with glassy, but happy eyes.

“Good. Now get comfy in the pillows. I’m not done with you.”

“Koo, oh god” you say, obeying happily. You rest back against the heap of pillows, shuffling your cuffed arms into a comfortable position.

“Good girl”, Jungkook praises and takes your legs to prop them up on the sheets. He spreads them with his hands on your inner thighs, “don’t close them until I’m done. Understood?”

“Yeah”, you say, nodding your head. You are so exposed like this and you love it. Jungkook makes you feel so safe. And needy enough that the most comfortable position to be in, is having your legs spread open.

“Good girl”, he says and connects his right hand with your pussy. He rubs his fingers up and down your sensitive heat, parting your swollen lips this way.

You chase him instantly, letting out a soft moan. This is the kind of tenderness he normally shows.

“So soft and swollen for me”, he rasps, staring deep into your eyes, “can I feel up my good girl inside, mhm?”

“Please”, you beg, bucking your hips up.

“Thank you, babygirl. You’re making me so happy”, he says and massages your entrance with his two longest fingers. He inches closer, sliding his left hand to the back of your head. He grabs a bundle of your hair and uses it to gently tilt your head up.

“Koo”, you whimper, switching between staring into his eyes and gazing at his lips. You could kiss him if only he moved in a little bit more. Your heart is hammering in your chest, his touch becomes so much more intense.

“Who do you belong to, baby?” he rasps.

“Koo”, you moan, painting burning adoration onto his features.

“Yes baby, you do. You’re my perfect girl”, he praises and rewards you with his fingers.

The breach feels so intense that you move closer all on your own, seeking comfort by moaning his nickname against his lips and trying to suck on them afterwards. It doesn’t hurt, but it is difficult to handle being filled with him when he’s got you so deep in subspace. Being fingered is the most amazing, overwhelming reward he could give you. You feel so close to tears because of how good it makes you feel.

“Breathe baby, breathe”, he whispers, pumping them in and out of you slowly, “you’re so tight. Does it hurt?”

“No”, you squeak, closing your eyes, “it feels so good”, you whine desperately and let out a little sob, “Koo, please don’t stop, please p-please.”

“I’m not gonna stop, babygirl. I’m only just beginning”, he assures you and helps you lie back again with a guiding hand on the nape of your neck, “you know how fucking greedy I am. It’ll take a while till I’m done with you”, he adds and slides his thumb to your clit to rub circles on her.

You squeeze your eyes shut, arching your back.

“Thank you, Koo. Thank��you”, you get out and then you can’t possibly produce any more words. You have to make sounds. Whimpers, sighs, sobs and moans. This is all you can do. All you want to do. He makes you feel so good. His fingers are long and because he uses more than one, also girthy enough to truly fill you out. He knows just how to fuck them into you, knows where every one of your sensitive spots lies and knows exactly how to massage them to turn every second into a moment of mindblowing pleasure. This is the kind of fingering you couldn’t even do yourself. Only Jungkook can give it to you and you’re so perfectly happy to experience it right now.

“You’re taking me so well, princess”, he praises and leans in to pepper kisses along your jawline and neck. You roll your head to the side, allowing him better access. It feels so good. You can’t say more about how he makes you feel other than that it feels so good. He keeps a steady rhythm with his fingers and his lips are so soft against your skin. You can also feel the little breaths he releases and the honest moans he makes. It tickles so nicely, making you even more sensitive to him.

“Mhm princess”, he purrs, tugging at the strap of your bra with his teeth, “I know you wanna show off your new piece, but can I take it off? Wanna lick your pretty nipples.”

“Please”, you beg, arching your back.

“Thank you, princess. I swear it’s driving me crazy”, he says and begins to work. He has to slip his fingers out, but makes up for it by offering his thigh for you to grind against. You moan, getting lost in the sensation. You writhe and squirm just so you can fuck yourself on his hard thigh all while Jungkook works on getting your bra off. He needs to unhook the handcuff chain for it, but works so skillfully that you barely even notice. Just as you don’t notice that he ties your hands in the front this time around until he drags your arms up by the chain.

You peel your eyes open, meeting his eyes. They are dark in pleasure, his brows are tugged tight giving him such a masculine dominance. You spill wet desperation on his thigh, squeezing your legs around it.

“Koo”, you whimper, stretching your arms further above your head.

“Keep them there until I’m done with you. Understood?”

“Yes, Koo.”

“Good girl. Now tell me how you feel.”

“Green”, you whimper, throbbing on his thigh.

“Good girl, she remembers the system”, he says and pushes your legs apart again. He slips his soaked thigh from your pussy, replacing this pleasure with the pleasure his fingers give you by slipping his longest two back into your pussy. He presses his thumb against your clit and begins finger fucking you deeply and a lot quicker than he did the first time.

“Koo, ah”, you moan, dropping your head deep into the pillows as your legs begin to shake. You know that those shakes will only grow from now on.

“That’s my good girl. You got so wet on my thigh, it has me wanting to act up”, he rasps and drops his left hand over your wrists to pin them into place. Now pinned down, naked and with your pussy squeezing his tattooed fingers, Jungkook finally pays attention to your tits. He would go gentle on other days. Massage you first, give you kisses on your tender flesh before thinking of your nipples. Not tonight. He needs to have them in your mouth. Now.

Jungkook begins with your left nipple, takes it between his lips to lick and sucks it greedily. The pleasure is hot. You swear you can feel the path it takes as it goes straight to your pussy.

You writhe under him, fucking yourself on his fingers as he forces the neediest moans out of you. Jungkook only stops sucking on your left nipple when he can taste how sensitive he’s got you. You get all unbearably hot on his tongue when that happens. He leaves a sloppy trail of spit on your nipple and shifts his attention to your right nipple. He takes it between his lips and begins the eager feast anew.

He moans, furrowing his brows. It feels so much smaller in comparison to your left nipple. Fuck, he’s got you so swollen. Jungkook increases the pressure around your wrist and fucks his fingers deeper. His palm presses against your clit, his fingers reach your deeper spots. Judging by how you are gasping for air and moaning brokenly, he’s hit the jackpot.

You squirm under him, your legs shake, your arms desperately try to break free. You feel so broken. He’s going to make you cum again and it’s going to feel so hot.

“Koo, Koo, Koo pl-lease”, you get out, moaning desperately.

Jungkook lifts his puffy lips from your nipple just to see how he ruins you.

“Koo, aah”, you drag out your moan, feeling yourself fall when Jungkook moans right with you, nodding his head as if to tell you that it was okay for you to break.

Your eyes go out of focus and roll back, closing just in sync with your orgasm hitting you. You are moaning so much and Jungkook doesn’t make it easier by moaning right with you.

“Yes babygirl, yes there we go”, he moans, fucking his fingers into you quickly, “fucking cum for me, aah yes, baby.”

Your voice cuts off with a gasp, you arch your back and feel what he does to you. He is pressing down on where it feels the best. It happens if you want to or not. You squirt on his fingers, soiling the sheets and his thigh with it.

“Yes babygirl, don’t hold back. That’s my babygirl, squirt for me”, he encourages you, helping you through the orgasm with expert touches.

Something shifts inside you. Something primal and insatiable. He’s such a good Dom right now. He’s got you ruined, squirting and so deep in safe subspace that you can’t really regulate what comes out of your mouth next.

“Daddy please. Please, oh god please.”

Jungkook falters in his touches for a moment, “holy fuck, what did you just say?”

You have no idea what you just said because you’re not sane yet. But Jungkook knows. Jungkook heard it and he is losing his fucking mind.

“Holy fuck, yes”, he growls, frowning as if he was angry. But he wasn’t angry, he was just overtaken by fucking desire for you, “that’s right. You’re Daddy’s babygirl. Holy fuck, I’m gonna fucking ruin you”, he spits and drops into the sheets before you. He keeps you in place with his left hand pressed to your stomach, resulting in his long fingers to poke against your sensitive spots even better. And then, only then, he connects his mouth with your pussy to make the angriest love to it.

“Koo!” you scream, twisting his hair instantly.

He didn’t even properly let you finish squirting and he is already stimulating your clit again. You tense up and feel another wave coming over you. You try to warn him, but he just fucks his fingers deeper and opens his mouth wider. So you are destined to empty yourself all over his face, sobbing his name because he makes you see fucking heaven and hell at the same time. Heaven because nothing feels better than Jungkook and hell because he is torturing you as if he hated you.

But he doesn’t hate you. He loves you. He is fucking obsessed with you. He breathes for you. And right now he is drinking from your sweet, sweet squirting pussy until you are empty and he fucking swallows every single droplet he can catch.

“Fuck baby”, he growls against you, twisting his fingers deeper, “say it again. One more time, please.”

“W-what?” you stutter.

“Daddy”, he growls and moans. Clarity comes back to you. You remember. You called him this word as he had you on the highest peak. You shudder and clench around him.

“Daddy”, you moan.

“Holy fuck”, Jungkook presses out and fucks the mattress, “babygirl”, he growls and connects his mouth back with your pussy.

“Ah, oh god Koo”, you squeak out, shaking uncontrollably, “it hurts, oh god ple-please.”

“Colour?”

“Green”, you sob, writhing on the sheets. They are so wet under you already and if Jungkook keeps this going, they’re going to get even wetter.

Jungkook growls and takes your clit between his lips again. Green means he can keep going. Green means you aren’t fucking done. Green means he is going to lick and finger you until he has you squirting again. Or pissing. Quite frankly, Jungkook doesn’t care about the difference. All he needs is for you to cum so fucking good that you wet yourself and feed him the sweetest liquid he ever tasted. He presses down on your tummy just so he can feel his own fingers rewrite your insides. Your stomach is so hard from all the tensing he is forcing you to do and Jungkook knows that the next one is going to be a good one. It has to be. You’re his good girl. You’re Daddy’s babygirl and if there is one thing he wants you to experience, it’s good fucking orgasms.

He didn’t even plan on eating you out again. He wanted to make you cum on his fingers and then take you missionary, but you twisted something in him. It’s not like he craved for you to call him like that, but rather that hearing this word from you shifted something inside him. He didn’t even know that he needed it until it left your lips and now he is going crazy. He needs you to orgasm one more time before he fills you with his cock. Jungkook curls his fingers in sync with his wet, sloppy tongue grinding against your clit.

“I have to cum, please”, you beg him, tugging at his hair because you know for a fact that you won’t be able to control yourself, “pl-please slow I- ah!”

Jungkook hears your begs and decides to use them as motivation. He knows that you are close and that you are currently trying to hold back in order not to squirt all over his face. He also knows that you’ve been married to him long enough that you are aware that he loves it when you do. So all this begging is just for show.

He fucks his fingers into you roughly, filling the air with the lewdest, wettest sounds.

“I’m sorry”, you sob and then it happens. Jungkook forces you to orgasm and with it, cover his face with your wetness. You twist his hair desperately, writhing in hot pleasure, “I’m sorry, I can’t stop it, ah!”

Jungkook growls, fucking the mattress angrily. This is it. This is his personal religion. The reason he fucking exists and the proof why he deserves such a title. He drinks you up until you have to pull him away from you.

“Please stop”, you beg him, dropping into the pillows while your body flinches as it recovers, “oh god. Ah fu-fuck.”

Jungkook slips his fingers out and kisses a path up your body. He doesn’t even care that he is leaving wet trails all over your skin, neither do you.

His hands cradle you, running along your sides until he can touch your upper back. 

“Breathe for me”, he orders you and sucks on your jawline, “breathe baby, breathe.”

You breathe just like he tells you to do. It makes the recovering a little easier. Especially because Jungkook holds you so close and kisses you. You are disoriented and dizzy, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable because you’ve got Jungkook keeping you safe. 

“There we go, breathe.”

You inhale and exhale, letting out a trembling whimper while your handcuffed hands reach for him. You manage to brush them over his neck and chest before you grow too weak and drop them again.

“Good girl. Colour?”

“Green”, you whimper.

“That’s good. I’m not done with you”, he whispers against your jaw and kisses his way up to your neck, “Daddy’s not done with his babygirl”, he rasps and chuckles deeply, “holy fuck, you did something to me with this. Holy fuck, I’m insane for you.”

You gulp repeatedly as you try to recover from what he just did to you. You want to say something, but all you can get out is “angmh” and then your voice forsakes you.

“I know, babygirl. But I’m still not done with you. I’m so fucking greedy for more”, he tells you and caresses your cheek, “you’re gonna take my cock and cum one more time. Understood?”

“Mhmgm”, you let out, writhing on the sheets weakly.

“Look at me.”

You obey even if opening your eyes feels impossible at first. You moan, arching your back at the sight of him. He is wet and dripping from your orgasms, staring at you with dark eyes and a tight jaw.

“Are we understood?” he insists in a deep voice, shaking your head gently.

You nod your head.

“Speak up.”

“Yes”, you whimper and reach for his face, “Koo please.”

He gives you a soft smile and kisses your palm.

“Good girl”, he praises, then takes your wrists to open the chain again. He drags you into a sitting position, “turn around.”

You obey, allowing him to close the cuffs on your back again.

“Lie down on your tummy.”

You obey.

He lets you rest for a second, but judging by the noises, he is taking off his briefs and lubing up his cock. He nudges your legs apart with his knee and connects his lubed fingers with your pussy.

“You’re such a good girl for preparing lube”, he praises and fills you with two fingers to test how sensitive you are.

You writhe and squirm, but don’t seem to be in pain.

“Koo please”, you beg, clenching around his fingers. He takes them away from you, but makes up for it by rubbing his cock against your entrance. You squirm, trying to feel for him but Jungkook drags your hands away by the chain.

“Behave”, he warns and pushes inside.

“Ah”, you let out, squeezing your eyes shut as his cock fills you up. The stretch is intense in the best way possible. It doesn’t hurt, but Jungkook got you so deep in the mindspace of total submission that it feels sacrilegious to finally have his cock. Something missing finally returned and it’s leaving you breathless.

“Fuck baby, so tight”, he growls, furrowing his brows, “how are you doing? Hurts?”

“No”, you whimper, “no, please don’t stop.”

“I won’t. Daddy’s so greedy for your pussy”, he says and bottoms out, “fuck”, he moans, dropping his head as his strong fingers dimple your ass, “breathe baby, you’re tightening.”

“It feels so good”, you whimper, “I can’t help it. I’m Daddy’s cock slut”, you get out and sob needily, fucking back onto his cock.

“You’re driving me insane, holy shit”, Jungkook presses out through gritted teeth and meets you movement until he has you fucked back into obedience. It takes embarrassingly little time for you to stop pushing back to instead lie on the mattress and take him with needy moans.

Not that Jungkook minded you fucking your tight pussy on his cock, but he needs you to understand that tonight he is controlling the scene. That every second of pleasure you receive is because he wants it to happen exactly how it happens. And that means that he will make you squirt on his face as often as he wants to and it means that he will fuck your sweet, little pussy until he’s either spend or you genuinely can’t anymore. There is no in between, he will only stop once one of you is too ruined to keep going.

“That’s better. I want you obedient tonight, okay?”

“Yeah…” you keen and spill tears, “Koo, please don’t stop, please.” 

“Mhhhm so sweet…. my baby’s so sweet. Fuuck.”

Jungkook presses your legs together with his strong thighs and begins moving out of his hips. He is resting on top of your thighs, caging them in and feeling them shake each time he bottoms out. You moan so sweetly, presenting your pussy to him as he fills it with his cock. He can watch it shift and change as he fills you up. His cock gets wetter each time he pulls out again.

“You look so fucking pretty like this”, he rasps, pushing your hands aside so he could grab your ass and spread it apart. You tighten around him, Jungkook feels it and you feel it too.

“Koo! Ah, ah, ha”, you squeak out your moans, spilling tears of pleasure on the sheets. His cock goes so deep. Your hole is so tiny in this position. You don’t want him to stop. He is rubbing against you so good that you swear you could orgasm just from getting your pussy fucked. No stimulation of your clit or sensitive spots needed, all you need is the sensation of Jungkook’s veiny cock fucking past those first few inches of your wet pussy.

“Yeah keep moaning baby, keep fucking moaning for me”, he encourages you while his pleasure darkened eyes run over your body. There is a reason why he needs to part your ass. It exposes his two favourite holes to fuck. Your pussy, so so wet and stuffed with cock and your ass so so empty and slickened from all your orgasms. Jungkook growls deeply and develops such unbearable anger at your pretty hole for driving him so fucking mad that he has to spit on it.

“Ah!” you flinch and clench around nothing. His spit feels burning hot on your hole. Jungkook massages it into you with rough circles, basking in how much squirmier you get under him.

“Fuck, I’m going insane. Holy fuck”, he moans and picks up the lube. He opens it with his teeth and flips it just to squirt some all over your ass. He throws the opened bottle aside afterwards, rolling his hips deeper into you.

“Koo…what….is that?” you get out.

“Just something to make it slippery”, he rasps and begins spreading the lube all over your ass and lower back, “want you fucking wet and sticky, babygirl”, he says and rubs his wet fingers up and down your hole while his hips pick up speed.

To think that he is covering you in lube for the sole purpose of making you messy and to know that he gets pleasure out of the view, ruins you.

“Koo, Da-”, you manage to get out and then your body betrays you as you lose every sense of control.

“Argh fuck”, Jungkook spits angrily, scrunching his face as your orgasm not only surprises you but him as well, “holy fuck”, he laughs and drops his head, “you’re cumming again? Holy fuck baby, you’re such a good girl. Yeah, you keep shaking for me.”

You do exactly that. You shake for him. Cum for him. Cry for him. While he fucks you through it in the stickiest, hottest pronebone you ever found yourselves in.

He isn’t finished with you afterwards. He lets you know with a growl and his cock pulling out not for the purpose of stopping, but so he could pull you onto all fours. He twists the chain of the handcuffs between his tattooed fingers and rubs his cock between your buttocks. The lube makes it easy to do so. Despite how ruined he has you, you arch your back just so you can present yourself to him better. Jungkook lingers on your hole, rubbing his cockhead against it.

“You’re shaking so much. How pretty”, he taunts, giving your hole repeated spanks with his cock. 

“Koo”, is all you manage to get out. There are no other words in your brain right now. Only his title. You feel so fucked. Ruined. Broken. And you don’t want this to end yet. 

“Green?”

You nod your head, arching your back to get closer to him. 

“Mhhhm”, Jungkook purrs deeply and stops his spanks to instead rub his cock against your hole again, “you have no work tomorrow, do you?”

“No?” you get out.

“Good, means I have time to prepare you. I wanna fuck your ass tomorrow”, he says and applies just enough pressure that you feel a stretch without him slipping inside.

“A-ah”, you moan, curling your toes.

“Not tonight though, need to cream my babygirl’s pussy with my cum”, he says and fucks his cock into your pussy in one maddening stroke.

You whimper, feeling your knees buckle. Jungkook pulls you back onto him by your handcuffs, keeping you upright this way. It’s difficult to hold on. His fingers are so slippery from all the lube play he’s been doing. He still holds on, looking at how tied up and helpless he’s got you and loving every second of it. Your pussy is so wet and hot, squeezing his swollen cock and reminding him why he is so fucking obsessed with you. Why sex with you won’t ever get boring, even after all those years together.

“Koo”, you whimper, spilling tears on the sheets.

“Not long anymore. My cock’s so fucking sensitive for you, I’m close”, he encourages you, rolling his hips into you in slow strokes.

“Harder please”, you beg.

“Fuck”, he spits and speeds up instantly. He grips your hip with his slippery hand and twists the chains to the point where he tugs you off the mattress and you hang on by nothing but the cuffs. Like this, Jungkook watches your tits bounce, increasing his speed to the point where his heavy balls slap against your clit repeatedly. He can go so deep this way and he’s fucked you well enough that your pussy’s shaped for no one but him. You can fit him. From his sensitive tip all the way down to his girthy base. If he could, he would go even further, reminding your insides who owns them with animalistic thrusts.

“Fuck baby”, he is growling through gritted teeth, dimpling your hip, “you’re making me fucking angry. Ha!” he laughs squeakily, contorting his face in pleasure, “you feel so good. Holy shit. How is it for you?”

“Go-goo-good”, you he fucks the word out of you and fucks moans out of you right afterwards. They are squeaky and sound not at all like you. But Jungkook knows you and he knows that this is how you sound when you’ve hit the peak of pleasure. This is the rawest, most honest version you will ever show and only he gets to experience it.

“Yeah? It’s good?” he is panting, dripping sweat. He is fucking so goddamn hard and it’s stealing his strength. You keep clenching around him, his knees are so wobbly because of you, but he fucks through the weakness. You want it hard and if there is one thing he’s good at, it’s fucking you hard.

“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” you chant, writhing in his strong hold. His body is colliding with yours each time he bottoms out. The impact feels punishing and like ecstasy.

“Yeah urgh”, he growls, throwing his head back, “I have to cum soon. It’s too good.”

“Soon, ple-please”, you beg, clenching around him desperately. He will make you cum one more time. Then every single orgasm you could experience will have shook your body. You need it. You need it so bad. The thought that tomorrow you will experience how good he can make you cum with your ass as well, pushes you closer to the edge stroke by fucking stroke.

“Fuck, you’re torturing me”, Jungkook growls and buries his cock deep inside to paint patterns on your a-spot, “like that? Mhm, is Daddy fucking you how you need it?”

“Yes! Oh god”, your voice switches from squeaks to animalistic growls, “holy fuck, you’re making me cum”, you growl and convulse in the most uncontrollable and honest way possible, “Koo, Daddy…. fuuuck”, you moan deeply as your orgasm burns you from the inside out.

“___”, Jungkook moans and throws his head back. There is a lot he can handle, but what he can’t do is listen to you growl like that. It throws him over the edge instantly, forcing his hips to still because he cums so fucking hard that he sees black for a few seconds. You drop onto the sheets because his grip loosened around the handcuffs. It forces Jungkook to fall over. His sticky hand grips the back of your head, keeping you down as he pumps you full of cum and growls into your ear.

Three, two, one.

Jungkook whimpers and begins moaning squeakily, hugging you against his chest as he drags out his orgasm with slow rolls of his hips.

You collapse with the sheets. Jungkook follows, putting almost all of his weight on you as his twitchy hips fuck his cock into you. He doesn’t want his orgasm to stop. Not yet.

“You feel so good, oh god”, he whimpers, hugging you tightly as he tries to at least shift some of his weight onto his elbow, “please clench for me, please.”

You obey even if your energy is at a dangerously low level. You know that once Jungkook satisfied his needs, you won’t be able to go again. You are fucking spend.

“Thank you, ah baby”, he mewls and lets out a soft sob, “I love you so much. Oh god, again.”

Yes he is sensitive. Yes he will make it your problem. Yes he is going to fill you up until you can’t hold it in anymore.

And yes you love it, moaning with him as Jungkook brings himself over the edge a second time.

“I love you, I love you, I love you”, he chants.

“I love you too, Koo I love you too”, you answer him each time he does, healing with each confession of love you exchange.

Jungkook pulls out after his high dies down, fucking his still hard cock between your thighs so he could grow soft there. You are so wet and hot there, giving him the kind of pressure he currently needs. And as he feels your closeness a little longer with the help of your thighs, he begins kissing the side of your face. He brushes aside whatever strands of hair stuck to your face as he fucked you into a state of ruin and then it is already time for him to litter every inch he can reach with his love.

“Good job, my good girl. Holy fuck, good job”, he praises in a trembling voice, “you did so well. I love you so much. Good job, babygirl, good job.”

You enjoy his affection with a racing heart and a dizzy head. You can feel him throb between your legs while his warm cum slowly seeps out of you. His chest is wet and sticky and you can feel his heart racing. This is such a healing state to be in.

“Good job”, he whispers and exhales shakily, “shit, I’m ruined. How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Ruined too”, you murmur.

Jungkook shifts on top of you a little, propping himself up on his elbow so he could look at your face. You peel your eyes open, meeting his gaze. He looks as ruined as you feel.

“Are you in pain? I know I went at you quite hard”, he asks, caressing your cheek.

You shake your head, “it’s not uncomfortable.”

“So you’re in pain. Baby, I’m sor-”

“It’s not uncomfortable”, you interrupt him, “I’m just ruined, but I like it”, you assure him and give him a droopy smile, “also I’m having a uterus cramp ‘cause you made me cum too many times. Imma be sore tomorrow.”

Jungkook smiles awkwardly, “but you’re okay, yeah?”

You nod your head, “I’m okay. You’re the best fucking hubby ever.”

Jungkook finally smiles honestly, snuggling into you. He kisses the bridge of your nose, pressing his lips against your forehead as he talks.

“No, you are the best wifey. You took me so well”, he whispers.

“I had so much fun”, you say, “thank you for ruining me.”

He snickers, “you’re saying stuff”, he murmurs and hums almost cutely. He kisses your forehead, “also, can we talk about what you called me?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think I needed this, but I did.”

“Yeah, same. My heart’s fucking pounding.”

“I can feel that.”

You and he giggle together. He snuggles closer, kissing your forehead repeatedly.

“You can definitely keep surprising me with it when you feel like it”, he says.

“Dearly noted”, you say and snicker, “wow, I’m actually done for. How the fuck are you always doing this?”

“It’s ‘cause I’m basically insane”, he jokes, making you laugh.

“Kook stop, don’t make me laugh” you whine, trying to clench.

“Why?” he laughs.

“Cause I’m leaking.”

“Baby, it’s a little too late to worry about your sheets”, he says, cracking you up again and therefore forcing more of his cum to drip out of you.

“You’re the worst, it’s happening again”, you whine as you laugh.

He cackles, wiggling on top of you as happiness overtakes him.

“You’re so cute, oh god”, he squeaks and squishes his cheek against yours as he hugs you tightly, “my booboo bebe baba baby”, he coos, rubbing his cheek against yours.

You giggle squeakily, enjoying his snuggles with a scrunched nose and crinkled eyes.

He lifts his head again, wiping his thumb under your eyes gently. You grin up at him, feeling goofily much in love with him.

“Your makeup’s ruined. It’s so smudged.”

“I know. I cried so much.”

“Hot. Mhhm baby”, he moves in for a soft cheek bite, “you’re so sexy, babygirl. You’re making me crazy.”

“Whatever doofus”, you murmur and huff out air, “god, I’m leaking again“, you whine, making him laugh.

“Wait, let me quickly untie you and then you can go to the toilet”, he says and sits up so he can undo the handcuffs.

He crawls off of you and watches you roll to your back. You make grabby hands at him and so he lowers himself until you can pull him into a hug. Your limbs tangle with each other, but you make it work because you hugged each other a million times before.

“I’m too dead to walk. I’ll go later”, you mumble into him, “I wanna cuddle.”

Jungkook melts with you. His thigh is between your legs. Your head is resting on his upper arm as you snuggle your face into his chest.

“Cuddling sounds perfect”, he says and sighs happily when you drape your leg over his hips just to get even closer, “you’re leaking more like this, you know?”

“Yeah, but you’re right. We’re already dirty as fuck”, you snicker, “the lube play was hot, by the way.”

“Mhm yeah and when you squirted on my face. Twice. Phew”, he exhales deeply, “that was hot.”

You snicker, feeling your heart race. Jungkook snickers as well, pulling you closer. Your arms know exactly where to lie so you and he can be as close as possible. You can fuck as hard and long as you want to and it will be okay in the end, because you know exactly how to cuddle to recover in the most comforting of ways.

“Did you actually mean it when you said you’ll fuck my ass tomorrow?” you ask him.

“Okay, first of all in my defense I was really horny and my whore side most definitely came out there”, he says, making you laugh. He speaks his next word with laughter on his lips, “but if you’re actually down, then I wouldn’t say no.”

“Mhm, I’d be down too”, you say, snuggling into him with a kiss to his sweaty chest, “you’re cute, you know? You always say the dirtiest things when we fuck and then you’re acting all cute about them afterwards.”

“Says the person who called me Daddy outta nowhere”, he defends himself, ripping yet another round of laughter out of you.

Jungkook laughs with you, holding you oh so close.

And so you and he find yourselves recovering from the intense sex with laughter and cuddles. You and he will continue talking about every single detail of this evening and you will do so with giggles and fluttering hearts. Later, you will both go to the toilet and then take a shower together to wash off the mess you made. Needless to say the night will end with cuddles and giggles in bed, with good conversation and too many inside jokes cracking the both of you up over and over again until you fall asleep with smiles on your lips.

Yeah, date night is definitely amazing.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I Never Missed You 2/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.3 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. Smutty smut ahead in this chapter. Brace yourselves for impact.

Part 1

You have to admit that you look dashing tonight. 

And not because you want to turn people's heads at the party… But because you want him to look at you like you're the most forbidden snack he will never have.

It's selfish and petty, and you're just seeking attention. But at least you have the balls to admit it: you want Simon Riley to drool after you. You want this man on his knees. And nothing else has worked except that bra.

So you turn to the world's oldest weapon. A woman's weapon. Seduction.

"I'd suggest you keep a low profile until we're done."

He looks at you through the mirror while you finish your hair. Uses the word we instead of I. It makes your heart ache… And you take even that lecturing comment as a compliment. So he does think you look nice, or at least nice enough to stand out. You read into every look, every little tone of voice he gives you.

"I thought we were supposed to lure him in," you say while you neaten your necklace. Of course you look nice. You have done everything you can to look ravishing tonight: a deep-cut, thigh-revealing dress, cat eye makeup, red lipstick...

"Yeah but not like this."

"I'm not locking myself inside the house because of this," you announce pointedly. "I'm not afraid to live my life." 

You turn and look him up and down, give him a little tilt of the head. "Don't you have anything else to wear?"

He doesn't shrink, doesn't bat an eyelash. Just looks down on you from that ivory tower of masculine prowess and makes you feel like a fool for being so dolled up.

"There's a difference between courage and foolhardiness," he states, not falling for your attempts to make him feel small in your world. You suspect there is so much more to this man, but you don't care to know about the circumstances he grew up in, the situations that gave him that broken nose and lip. You don't want to know about his broken soul.

Or perhaps you do...

"I suppose you know everything about that," you say while looking straight at the uneven scar on his jugular.

"I do."

"Tragic past?"

"You could say that."

You feel even more silly, standing before him in all your glory, pearls in your ears and silver around your neck. You pay this man for his services; he's supposed to protect you. But something in his eyes told you from the start that there lies an abyss inside this man. And you didn't pay for that: a peek inside his heart. But a door is open a creak now, and what's inside is pure darkness.

"Well, whatever it is, I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

Your cultured attempt to dance around his chasm makes those brown pools melt. Finally, he melts. But not to compassion, or mercy, or anything that would make you believe that you two understand each other. 

He looks at you like you're a stranger from another planet. He's intrigued but doesn't quite understand how a creature like yourself has come to be. You're not only a child in his eyes but a coward as well for not daring to open that door to hell.

"What do you think," you hurry to change the subject. "Will I do tonight?"

He’s always so hyper-vigilant, his stare fixed on everything else but you. It feels childish, to be jealous of his attention when all he’s trying to do is protect you. 

But now… Now that alert darkness bores straight into you.

"You look good in everything, ma'am."

A breeze of arctic wind goes through your scalp, and a fainting warmth settles in your belly.

You tiptoed your way to the fridge yesterday morning, before official breakfast, in your knickers and an old band merch from your youth - the one you still slept in sometimes because it was far more comfier than your silk pajamas. He walked in fully dressed and mighty while you were sneaking back upstairs with a glass of apple juice. The humiliation was overwhelming, especially when he dared to look you up and down in your state of underdress.

"Goodness… Sorry."

It should’ve been he who was supposed to say those words. But you felt like an intruder in your own house. It was a dangerous slip: to look so homely, with no brush stroke gone through your hair, with no toner on your skin. With no makeup and standing there before him in all your…you.

"No harm done."

He had never looked at you like that, and you swore right then and there that you would only descend those stairs with your full battledress from now on.

"Even in an old t-shirt…?" You ask with a tight voice. Desperate. Longing…

"Especially then."

Simon Riley strips you from your weapons and charades in a second. Your tight, seductive smile slowly falls off your face, and from behind it, a fragile, naked hope arises to gape at him. He clears his throat as if he just offered you an entire bowl full of ice cream when he was supposed to give you only a little scoop.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," he says, calm and adamant, like a statue you would go to see at a gallery.

"I'm afraid we should be going already."

"Takes 5 minutes."

You purse your lips, and he's on his way to the bathroom before you can even give him your nod. The guy is used to military showers, then, and perhaps it's for the better that he puts on at least some effort.

When he comes out, you're sitting in the hallway, and he's only wearing a towel. It's the one you gave him when he arrived, the softest you could find from your closets. You remember how the first odd thought you had upon seeing this man is that he probably isn't used to softness.

And now you see why.

You can see the prominent veins and the sketchy forearm ink, his muscles are magnificent to the point of unholy, he has a delicious, thin layer of fat on top of his belly, and the eyelashes aren't the only breath of hair that's pale on this man… But he looks like he has gone through an inferno.

His back is full of scars, and half of his shoulder looks like it has been dipped into a deep fryer. You catch a hollow dent between his ribs, and there's more, but he walks to his room before you see the rest of it.

The taxi drive to the party is filled with silence as you try to digest what you just saw. You want to call your lawyer and demand him to tell you where the hell did he find this man and who Simon Riley truly is. Who exactly does he work for when he's not taking bodyguard jobs? 

But the first thing you do when you arrive at the large party held in a small palace is to go to the punch bowl and down a glassful in one go.

He's on your heels the whole night, eyes everyone with a hawk stare, and does his job perfectly. He grabs your arm occasionally and whispers in your ear if someone seems suspicious. After one and a half hours, he comes to you and practically demands that you two leave. Normally, you would start an argument, but not tonight.

You kind of want to go back home, too. The people at the party seem tedious, and his scars have reminded you that even if you live in a world where violence is not the norm, it doesn't mean that other worlds don't exist. Otherworlds - where people get shot, stabbed, and blown apart. Whipped and cut and deep-fried. You're in danger, and it took his suffering to see that.

You have been so stupid that you just about wish someone would slap you.

Simon has been so patient with you that you nearly apologize on the ride back home. You want to beg his forgiveness and confess you have been a spoiled little idiot.

But again, that's not an easy thing to do. You turn to look at your forbearing bodyguard, ever silent in the taxi, and turn your voice to silk.

"You really should smile more," you suggest. He doesn't answer, just looks out your window as if there were perils there too. You suddenly realize anyone could shoot through the glass or the door at any given time. With a proper caliber, a bullet could pierce that window and coat his black shirt with the insides of your skull.

No. No. I'm not ducking my head.

There's no one there.

"Have you ever tried?"

You turn to humor and flirt to drive those intrusive thoughts from your head. He doesn't yet know that you're afraid, that you have been afraid this whole time. You should have bought that armored car.

"Am I your most annoying client ever…?" There's a smile on your lips, a little pardon for being so infuriating. His eyes drop there, then lift back up to your eyes with surprising seriousness.

"You're my first client ever."

Well… This was news.

"Oh. Why did you accept this job?"

His stare sails away from you and back to the London night. You stifle the urge to grab his hand, a fistful of his shirt, to draw his attention back to you. Every time he's around, you feel safe; every time he looks at you, everything else ceases to exist. 

You want him so badly you could cry.

"They don't teach you manners at the SAS…?"

"No. They teach us how to kill."

You scoff and turn to look through the window, too. 

"Brute."

"You're entitled to your opinion, ma'am."

When you reach your house, he uses that term again. You're 110 % sure he's only trying to annoy you. 

"Good night, ma'am."

"Stop it," you nearly slam your purse on the table in the hallway.

"What?"

"The ma'am thing…!"

You sound like a wife who's looking for an argument after putting on a charade all evening. When the door to your home closes, volcanoes erupt, and bombs drop, your husband-like bodyguard gets the blunt of your fear and frustration.

But how do you argue with someone who never argues back? He's calm like the Pacific during a stormless season, always, always gets calmer when you're going berserk. He walks to the armchair in your living room like he owns the whole goddamn place and sits down with a sigh. 

And there is a smile playing on his lips.

"What should I call you then?"

You look at him, dumbstruck, on that chair, spreading his legs like there's no tomorrow, arms comfortably on the armrests, and mouth drawn into a genuine, peaceful, thoroughly naughty smile.

"Oh, now you're smiling," you huff. The unbelievable audacity of this man… "Some ideas on what to call me popped into your head?"

"Verily."

"Go on then."

"Nah. You should go to sleep."

"I'm not going until you tell me."

You cross your arms over your chest to underline that ruling. His smile only widens. He looks wickedly delicious in that seat with his legs spread, and the chair doesn't swallow him like it swallows you. Actually, his shoulders are wider than the back panel of this enormous chair.

"Well," he begins, "’princess' came up first."

You try to catch what he just said through the stupor of wanting to climb on that wide lap.

"Truly? How original."

"Or spoiled brat."

You stop breathing for a second, then reel straight toward a spiral of–

"How dare you?"

You notice his eyes dropping to your heaving breasts again. This man is so different from a dinner-offering, cunning man in a suit. He has no pretenses whatsoever. He looks at you with that little smile, eyes burning, legs drifting apart even more, probably his cock stirring from how you are trying to chastise him. If you had pearls around your neck, you would clutch them. Or throw them at him.

"You son of a–"

"Pretty."

His next choice renders you speechless; it cuts through your insult before it even flees your mouth. You gape at him, jaw open, breathing and cheeks burning, pussy throbbing - soaked so thoroughly now that you feel a tiny droplet cascade down your thigh.

"Yeah. That's better," the man says as if he's also blessed with a Superman stare, knowing you're seconds away from drenched. "Better than brat or princess, anyway."

The darkness conceals most of him as he settles inside that massive chair he dwarfs. You are falling, or at least that's what it feels like. A tumble, a slip inside his Styx. But there's no bottom, and the water is warm ink, despite the fact that he's so blanched.

"Pretty…?" You whisper into that water, breathe onto the surface of his depths. The darkness answers immediately.

"Very."

Your swallow is a wet, nervous roll inside your throat when you sink into that river of lust and smoke. 

You take your jewels off first, because you know he doesn't care for them. Money's not his chief interest, even if he's being paid. And fat, at that. But he's not here for riches, he’s not here for the jewels – or that's what you desperately wish.

The necklace and pearls are gone soon, tucked away on the table with your trembling digits, and he's sitting there like a statue.

You have no trouble with this dress: the zipper seems to cascade down on its own as you reach behind your back. He's motionless as you slip out of the straps that keep the dark velvet up. You feel like you're the Styx: but the darkness of the river pools at your feet as you let go of the gown, let go of everything and continue your freefall.

He doesn't move, doesn't give evidence that he's even breathing; he just sits there like a long-forgotten king.

The panic snares you with a drool-wet throat: you salivate not because of him but because of your nerves. 

Are you… harassing him?

Does he want this…?

At least he thinks you're pretty – and you could laugh out loud; your thoughts are vain and petty, even when you're baring yourself before him in more ways than just one. Your breaths are audible distress inside that darkness, and he's still: everything's still.

But he moves when you reach for your bra.

It's just a hand that soars through the darkness, an involuntary reach for support and gathering of composure as his fingers find his jaw. They swipe across imagined stubble before he leans his head on that hand, just an ounce's worth of weight placed on his thumb and pointer as if he's simply in his thoughts. But the hawk stare is fixed on the lace covering your breasts as it falls on the floor too.

You hear his breaths now. Quicker on the inhale, heavy on the exhale. Your thumbs slide under the hem of the last piece of your veil, something you got from the store when you were feeling down. Now the underwear makes you feel better than ever - who would’ve guessed it's the moment you slither it off? Slowly, too: you’re being a tease, hip bones giving a two-second dance for him as he continues to watch you strip before him like the queen of the night.

You breathe in sync now, and your nipples perk up – he hasn't even touched you yet and you're more aroused than ever with a man.

Not a word spoken, and you fear you’re being delusional – if you've just imagined the heat between you two, but then those legs flare a hair's breadth more. His voice is the softest whip as it crackles through the void.

"Yeah... You're pretty. Now what?"

You breathe in gusts now. It's exhilaration, damnation.

"Jesus Christ, Simon."

The chair gives a creak as he rises, like an ancient shadow. Intimidating – intense, always, always, and you've been trying to coat him with soft towels and feed him toast. You wonder if he prefers black tea simply because it tastes more bitter than coffee rounded with milk.

Does he want this? Silly softness and toast and–

You get all your answers as he bends just enough to match your height, just enough to sweep you off your feet. Your hands go around his neck on instinct as he lifts you up from your rich, opulent Styx and into his sea.

You're quiet all the way upstairs – he can't fuck you downstairs, then, has to intrude on your luxury and privacy. You don't mind, especially when the steps give a desperate wail under your combined weight. He lets it sing its music to the night: your ruining already makes so much noise.

He reaches for his gun right after he’s placed you on the mattress. The sound of it is heavy when he sets it on the nightstand that has only seen glasses of water and apple juice and perhaps a few books. 

He undresses with soldierly sharpness, no seduction there. But he doesn't have to seduce you: his stare and heavy-cold demeanor have already done that.

He's so, so different from the others… Looks at you on the bed like you're both a piece of tender sirloin and something akin to garbage. That's an accurate depiction of a princess, perhaps. You know wasps gather around both honey and bloodied meat. 

He looks at you like that because you know nothing. And he's not here to ruin you… he's here to insert himself inside you like you're a foe that needs to be infiltrated, plundered and burned until you understand. 

He's big. Daunting. A brute while you’re the princess, could be the sleeping beauty, the way you stay immobile and try to take in this man's sheer power. You saw him half naked already when he came from the shower, but it's nothing compared to seeing all that taut, scarred flesh up close, soon about to fall upon you like a broken mountain. 

And what's between his legs is wholly proportional to the rest of him. That thing is a menace, and it's not even fully erect - hanging thick between thick thighs, foreskin revealing a fat, sloping tip, and he's veined all over… 

Finally, your mouth goes dry.

His gaze sweeps your beauty, and that cock gives a throb – a good, hard pull that stretches out into the open air, and your eyes go wide. Then he prowls, like the king of the jungle, moving with a fluidity that must be scary to those who meet their end by this big brute’s violence.

You are able to take in air only when his hand falls next to your head. The other claims you by the middle as if to soothe you - but the truth is you're caged in like a tiny, quivering animal.

The hand is heavy as it slopes across your stomach and scales your mound. It doesn't cup or probe, only rests there over your most sacred place, like an enemy surrounding a city. Your thighs part slowly, hoping he would just sweep right in.

"This wasn't in the deal," he rasps as he looks down at you: heavy iron judging a diamond.

"Oh shut up," you breathe, thoroughly thrilled and shy. If you weren't lying down, his intensity would buckle your knees.

"Nor do I take orders from you, ma'am."

"I'm not- Don't call me a-"

His eyes spark as the hand dips down like a deep diver into the blue. You gasp a stunned whiff when he's met with a mortifying amount of slickness. Your arousal sings a pretty song as he draws a finger over your slit, the moist sounds followed by another stuttering sigh. 

"Look at you all wet," he remarks, and you grit your teeth.

“Shut…up…”

"You know why I accepted this job?"

He wrecks you with one thick finger, rough skin lathering you with your own juice like he's trying to make a point here. And he is making a point: it comes across perfectly. The princess is a filthy mess for brutes…

And of course he was given a file on you too. With more than just one photo.

"Yeah," he rasps when you only look back at him with your felled deer helplessness. You could swear that he just heard your thoughts. "I think you know."

"You're–ah– a brute," you whisper, eyes shining. Your thighs part even more, feel yourself leaking over his fingers that stroke you agonizingly slow. You swallow with hunger, the need pangs on your cheeks. Your whole body is throbbing for him.

“Sticks and stones, love.”

He's so infuriating that you could slap him. Claw him, rip him apart. But you nearly laugh instead… It's far better an option to let him claw and rip you apart. He's tearing you apart right now, with those eyes and his hand, exploring you like you're the first course and he's here for the whole dinner. How can he be so calm?

"Could you…" You start, then realize you've never begged for this man.

"Hm? Talk to me," he commands. "Whatever ya want."

You whimper – from bliss or relief, you can't tell. The frantic need to serve is fully fleshed out in his tone. It surprises you. You thought he was here for his own pleasure. 

You try to think through the bliss of his fingers. You've had all kinds of things... All you could ever want, most would say. But that's not entirely true. No man has ever promised to please you however you want.

"Could you go…"

"Go down on you?" He places a thumb, broad and hard, on your clit. Teases it with the slightest pressure and a circle.  "Lick your cunt?"

Fuck…

He has no trouble saying it as it is, and you nod, still helpless.

"Sure. 'N after that I'll fuck you nice and good."

He's never, ever sounded like that before. Dark, and rich, the baritone reaching a level that speaks of hunger – no, need.

A brute, a pussy-drunk brute, the blood in your veins sing as he goes down. Nothing can prepare you for the way with which he manhandles his way between your thighs like they're only a petty distraction in the way. They're forced wide apart with a tight grip that speaks of urgency, but he takes his time to admire the sight bared before him. He’s drinking you in like ambrosia, towering above you while you’re being held open for him to just observe you like you’re a center-spread girl in a filthy magazine. 

"You're fucking pretty down here, did ya know that?"

You don't even know what to say - his tone, his observation is base, and still, they're the most beautiful words anyone has ever said to you.

"No…?"

"Well now ya know."

He steals a final glance at you, and the fire in his eyes already makes your legs feel weak. He dives between your parted legs, right into your leaking, glistening folds, and you're suddenly glad that you've done all that yoga… Those shoulders are so broad they force your thighs even further apart as he makes himself home there between your legs. 

A hot mouth presses against you like this man has been starving, even if you've fed him the best delicacies for days. An even, fat stroke is the first thing you feel before your toes curl and your head falls back.

"Goodness, Simon..." You try to keep yourself from stuttering as his mouth opens you like a flower. You should be quiet, for once, and let him do the job. He seems like an expert, even and especially there between your legs. "Do you-ah, always shag your clients?" 

"Told you you're my first," he rasps a husky sigh on your folds. He could ruin you with that voice alone.... He gives you another sweep of his tongue, full and ample, and your fingers curl around the sheets, your hips buck; your ass drives up on instinct, trying to both escape his mouth and rub your pussy against those thin but eager lips. 

"Don't worry," he tells your pussy with a warm chuckle. "This is free of charge."

You sigh, the first laugh of many up into the air. You're supposed to get angry, but you can't. You can't. 

"Have… no words for you."

"Good. It's about time you stopped talking, love."

He grabs your hips to punctuate it that you should indeed shut up. Fingers sink into your flesh like you're a whole goddamn feast - no more fucking toast and teasing. His hands look so huge as they dig into your skin - so different from the hands of men who work in offices or wait for people to serve them. You upvoted those hands to be the best part of this man long ago.

And that bulk of muscle… Some of those men in suits might go to the gym, but they couldn't forge a body like his in a million years: that breathtaking mass built to work and endure harsh conditions. It's not a flex or a sculptured piece of art: it's simply survival - ancient and primal.

He's got darkness, and you got diamonds, but something tells you his depths are infinitely more valuable. You couldn't buy his intensity even if they sold it in the streets. The skull mask was self-made, everything in this man is self-made, and he's sampling what diamonds taste like, and you wonder… Does he think you're cheap, some fake piece of worthless junk? Does he laugh at how easy you are? That under your manners, you're only a spoiled brat and a promiscuous maneater…? Or that he couldn't care less, as long as he can push his cock inside you?

He gives you his best, that's for sure. A working man, with you as his assigned mission, and the feeling of being a spoiled little princess only increases. And how are you supposed to stay still if he's slow and attentive like that? You might be his first client, but you're not his first shag…

His lips seal tightly around your nub, suck it, lap it, sigh on it - he's already breathless from the need to make you moan and cum. A purpose-driven, ravenous man, and when he dips his tongue inside your cunt, your mind finally goes blessedly blank. Your legs shake and stretch, and you can’t prevent your hand from skimming down to grab his hair when he gives you deep, unhurried plunges with his tongue, huffing against you from the mad want to make you feel good. 

You would never have guessed that Simon Riley would get such pleasure from licking a woman.

One hand disappears from around your thigh, and you guess it's one of his fingers that arrives, wide and thick, to tease your entrance. You can feel the smile on your folds as he slips it in, making you nearly jolt on the sheets. Your fingers instantly curl to tug that pale hair, to grab hold of something, and it makes him rumble inside you. 

He doesn’t even wait for you to catch your breath as he adds another finger. Goes shallow at first, then pushes those fingers in to the knuckle. The feeling of being filled - and not being filled enough - is going to drive you crazy any second now.

"Simon…"  

"Yeah?"

“I want you to… want you to…" you hear yourself choking on your beg as he works those fingers in and out of you while his lips are tight around your clit. He knows exactly what you're trying to ask.

And suddenly, it's he who breaks… 

"Right. 'M gonna fuck you now, yeah?"

The spread is gone, and you're being moved - on your belly, and you briefly think whether it's because he can't bear to look into your eyes when he takes you. You don’t even have time to whimper from the loss of his fingers and mouth before heavy thighs force your legs aside. You’re being spread again, crudely, obscenely, like it’s just a procedure that has to be done. He’s both methodical and impatient, and you wonder - has he wanted to rail you like this ever since he saw you? Force you to lie down on your belly while he takes you from behind like a helpless damsel?

His hands come to your hips as if to make sure that you won’t run away from under him. As if you ever wanted to… 

Something far fatter forces its way between your folds and straight onto your opening. He glides over your folds a few times, spreads your wetness all over his tip. Methodical still, but it makes you moan and swallow.

"Jesus…"

The lathering stops, the jutting cock settles right where your depths lie, and he chuckles. "Not quite, love."

Fuck… 

Fuck this man's cheek and audacity. Fuck his size and pride, the way he knows what he's doing all the fucking time. 

“Desperate for it?” 

That stupidly fat cock just resides there, teasing your aching, leaking hole without going in. But it’s like he answers his own question because you feel the thick of him give a notch against your folds. So impatient. Thoroughly needy. It sends you further down the whirpool of desire, a searing white, fathomless deep..

“Yes..”

When he goes in with a leaden grunt, your muscles go into a spasm - he's too big, he hasn't prepared you right, and still, you force yourself to relax.

"Not what you expected?" 

"It's… too much," you admit. He stops, realizing that for once in his life, he might've been an impatient man. Then he crawls forward, and you feel like you're about to be buried under a boulder as his weight bears down on you. Hands sink into the mattress on both sides of you, forcing you further up against him - you're floating, almost, to where you belong.

"Yeah? C'mon… You can take it."

You shudder. It's not even fully in yet?

He speaks too softly for it to be a demand, even when he's hovering on the brink of wanting to simply ram himself into your cunt. It's an encouragement. He’s cheering you on, like a coach. Or a leader... It’s leadership. 

When you don't object, he starts to feed more of himself in. You try to remember how to breathe because you were wrong, you were so, so wrong - it was barely just the tip, and now you're stretched wide and tight. He's endless, and sinking in deeper, deeper….

And you want it so much - all of him- you want to grip him and never let go. One hand comes to sweep over your hip again, it caresses the swell of your ass, and you know he's looking down at how well you can take him after all.

"How are we doin'?"

Your lips are swollen, and your brows are creased tight. It's still not in…? 

You’re fucked. Literally. But you can take him... You must.

You whimper when he slows down almost to a halt.

"Love. Tell me to stop 'n I'll stop."

"Just–gently," you whisper, brittle and shivering from joy.

"Don't worry. I got you."

Slowly, he arrives to the end of him and you. Hips flesh against yours, he’s out of breath before he even starts the thrusts. His length caresses places unfathomable in this position, and his weight is crushing you, even when he's supporting himself. It only feels like the safest place to be. Trapped there between your safe, soft bed and his safe, hard body. 

The first thrust punches the air out of your lungs. It doesn’t hurt, and it’s not uncomfortable; it’s just too much to take. You’ve never been so filled. 

"Fuck…" He swears, somewhere between the third or fourth thrust. "You're…"

"Good…?" You offer him when he doesn't continue. You know he was possibly going to say tight or something crude like that and corrected himself before it spilled. He merely grunts as an answer - a barbarian through and through, you decree. And then the brute speaks…

"The best."

God. You feel like a diamond after all, but you've never been under so much pressure, fearing you might break.

"You-too…" It's a sad little mewl. You sound like a child trying to make friends. Latching a hook on him, no matter how tiny it is. One shake, one ripple from the behemoth, and it will fall loose.

"Don't go lying with that pretty little mouth," he warns.

"I'm not lying."

"Yeah…? Keep squeezing me like that and perhaps I'll believe you."

It's a strange feeling, to meet your mistrust and jealousy on him. He has no pretenses, but he has secrets, camouflage, and flash grenades that blind you from the truth. But even he can't hide it all when he's moving inside you, so close, so terribly close.

You melt into a pool of heat and want, trying to meet him midway by offering your cunt, arching your spine, driving yourself up to give him better access. What was possibly meant as a desperate fuck turns into a sweet, weightless rocking, a rhythm of him and you. The hands on your hip start to gain weight as he holds you still for him, at times even pulls you against his cock.

"C'mon… wanna hear you," he huffs, then slides one hand to your butt and gives it a fond squeeze when you won't instantly make noise. "You're always givin' me that cheek and now you're silent?"

It's a warm question, a thick baritone that settles into your stomach, then shoots downwards and makes you clench. 

"Wh-what do you want me to say?"

"Want you to sing."

Of course the man who never talks won't shut up in bed. But he's not bullying you into submission, nor is he being mean. If anything, he sounds like he's finally on his knees. 

And you don't want to be mean either. Not anymore. But you just can't help yourself from having a little fun now that he's finally desperate and inside you. 

"Make me," you whisper, delivering your cheek with a wicked little smile.

The response is immediate: he dares to land a flat palm on your ass. Like you're a broodmare, a sirloin steak for him to feast on. And it does the job: you almost shriek, or at least that's how it sounds like when a parched little whine pushes through your vocal chords with violence.

"That's better," he barks, pleased with his work.

"You're horrible," you gasp. You're glad he put you face down on a pillow: you can only hope he doesn't see how happy you are in the darkness of his night.

"Yeah? And you're sweet." 

It's said with gravel wrapped in silk. It hits you and ignites, starts a flame inside you without permission.

You want him in ways you shouldn't. You want… more breakfasts, him carrying you up the stairs, taking in the way you tip-toe around the house in an old t-shirt. You want to serve him back rubs and tea and see who he is when he's not being paid. You don't want a lap dog or a guard dog, you simply want... 

Simon.

"I'm– I'm sorry that I've been such a bitch," you whisper. He sinks back on top of you until his nose nuzzles the back of your ear. He leans on his elbows, trying not to break you into too many little pieces, but the feeling of being confined couldn't be more blissful.

"Cock's that good?" He drags the following thrust, sparking your nerves aflame as he hits your core. But it's not brutal; if it is, it's the sweetest wrecking you could ever have imagined. 

"Don't make me take my words back," your lips pull to a smile and a silent, inner laugh. 

"Wouldn't dream of it." 

He's smiling too. Inwardly, perhaps, but you can hear the mirth. His weight on top of you while you're lying under him on your belly, unable to move, unable to do anything other than take the full brunt of his cock as it spreads you open, is pure heaven.

"Want you to cum when I'm inside you," he rasps in your ear, lips brushing the underside of your jaw. "Think you can do that, princess?"

Being told to cum on command is a bit ridiculous, you think. But not when it comes from that Cockney mouth. Not when he asks so nicely. Your cunt pulls, claws at him. 

"... I'll show you princess," you sigh, but it's only a second away from laughter. His fingers dig into your skin, the flush flesh of your ass. It feels possessive… Fond.

"Yeah. Show me. C'mon."

The camouflage gets slightly torn off by a wind of a smile. You can hear it on his lips. Sex should be fun, one of your friends always says. You had never thought about it like that. Bed is not the place for laughter and humor, you had thought. But now you are both on the brink of bursting with it.

"You're a fucking pretty one…" He grunts: a breathless, silent joy. "Know you want this as much as I do. Ain't that right?"

"Yes." 

"That's what I thought. So cum for me. Wanna hear the sounds you make."

You dance on the precipice already, and his voice causes your hand to shoot out to his. You drag that heated palm across your hips and your ribs, curl it next to you as if you were drawing a blanket over youself. It's a lover's caress, and his fingers slip between yours as he wraps around you like the protector that he is. 

Your walls flutter, the thickness inside you makes you swell with every thrust. His hips are relentless as he buries himself into you with blunt force, his flesh clapping against yours and making your cunt clamp down on him. Sweet, sweet, sweet, your blood sings as your lids drift closed. The wave is coming, the final tsunami that will sweep you with it, and you will only succumb with joy.

"Don't-stop," you hear yourself beg through the heavy pants he's grunting on your neck.

"'M not gonna stop," he grunts into your ear, serious now.

"Fuh–Fuck me good and… hard," you're hiccuping through dry tears. It feels like there's a hammer and an anvil placed between your ribs. "I need you hard-"

"Shit…"

You barely grasp that he's about to lose his precious control before the midnight sea takes you under. The world fades into a tight know of blue and white and black, electric, ambient, something soft and hot at the same time. You're choking on your tears, moaning into the pillow like a poor, broken, tortured cat. 

"That's fucking pretty," he swears on your neck as you cum. All humor is gone now, but he's not mocking you. He's just… emotional. The bulk of him rides you through the wave, but the rhythm of his hips becomes erratic. 

"That's it, pretty… I'm gonna…Fuck," he huffs on your skin, a mist of want, and the cockhead rubs something profound inside you and makes you jolt in the middle of your molten euphoria. He grunts, swears, and does it again - bludgeons so deep it forces out a sob, just before he breaks too with a choked, wet swallow and a groan. A trembling colossus, you think, as he thickens and bursts inside you.

You're an aching mess when he comes, his thighs pressing over yours and forcing them far and wide as he buries himself into you to the hilt. He's a behemoth, spasming and crumbling right above you. The broad abs bunch against your back while his hips pin you down and spread you open. The cock pulses inside you, and you are barely able to think how it's a miracle that both his thick flesh and the pool of cum, all of it, just somehow fits there inside you…

A gentle brute until the end, he swallows again, thick and breathless, before giving a few tight rolls of his hips, emptying himself to the last drop. Slowly, you both still inside your bubble of warm, dark blue, something akin to a sea between a tropical storm and a calm sunrise, a drowsy reef shifting with the waves. 

He's broken into a light sweat from the toil when he finally untangles your fingers. Your hips are kept in place with one hand as he slowly pulls out. You feel like you're left emptier than before, even if you feel the cum welling up inside, about to spill over.

Your bodyguard - your late-night fuck - collapses beside you, then reaches to pull you close again. Still back against his chest, still unable to look into your eyes when you're both vulnerable. 

"I'm gonna get you a towel," his fingers tremble as he caresses your arm with the most delicate touch. 

"No–don't, don't go," you whisper, then grab his hand and bring it back over you. You almost squeeze yourself with it. "Please?"

The tension behind your back decreases as he slowly falls back into bed.

"Alright love. I'll stay right here."

It's so peculiar how he reminds you of large water masses. A night sea under a pale moonlight. Not a stormy, roiling one, just a vast depth in an ever-swelling motion.

"I want… I need you to keep me safe," you whisper inside that swelling sea. You never want to come to the surface. You want to learn to breathe underwater. The heavy arm is draped over you; it covers nearly half of your chest as he sighs.

"Then let me do that."

His plea is not humble - nothing in this man is. He's not on one knee, swearing his allegiance and vowing to always protect you. He's not your Lancelot.

But in a way, his plea comes far too close to a beg. You feel a sting near your heart. It's electric, pure pain - the sweet kind, though, as you realize he doesn't only want to do his job… He wants to protect you. He has already tried his best to protect you while you run around like nothing is wrong. 

"Simon… I'm sorry."

"I already forgave you," he hums on your skin, evidently glad that you two finally understand each other. It should send you laughing, the thought that you needed his scars and his…treatment to find common ground. And free of charge, no less.

"Do you still wish you were somewhere warmer…?"

He bows his head against the nape of your neck, and the gush of air from his nose is warm and jovial. "No."

It's hours till dawn, but you wish it would never come. The beauty of the night is only now unfolding before you. It feels far more safe than the violent dawn. You wonder how he would react if you moaned his name as you cum. If he would shudder. You wonder what the hell is wrong with you that you didn't already do it...

"Simon…?"

"Mm..?"

"What happens now?"

There's a pause, but he doesn't shift for more comfort. Still, the bullet vests and battle gears are back on; you just sense it.

"We're gonna get some sleep."

"No, I meant… What does this mean for us?"

"What do you think it means?"

Now he shifts, but only to draw you closer. You feel like jello as he pulls your scent deep into his lungs, then exhales the grace on your skin like you're the only tobacco he needs after a good round of sex.

"Don't worry about it, princess," he murmurs on your skin. So delicately that you could claim this man has never even seen the army, never barked and shouted and smoked his throat dry. "We'll talk in the morning."

You settle into his sea, an embrace full of gentle, heavy safety. It's the sweetest oblivion to slip in as you begin a dreamless sleep, soft and snug. But it's not merciful enough to make you forget that you two… 

You never even kissed.

............................................

Taglist: @lialacleaf @cumikering @val-srz @glitterypirateduck @clear-your-mind-and-dream @milfs4lifee @regatoni1 @glossygreene @raf4el4 @xxmattyboixx @frozenballsack69 @gabygykss @chxrryp0p @sinnisterr @clairdelunelove @megumilover69 @littleobsessionsandlifeslessons @ayavaiia @thedevillovesflowers @tiny-kasper

[luveline]

Hello lovely Jade! Can we please get something where reader is watching a horror movie with best friend!Remus (that’s she’s head over heels for) and is so scared she ends up on his lap? Love you!

love you :D♡♡ fem, modern au

"I really don't like this." 

Remus laughs under his breath. "Don't be a scaredy cat," he whispers. 

You take the pillow from his lap without asking and hold it in front of your face, peering over the top as the TV turns quiet. Quiet means suspense, and suspense leads to jumpscares. 

"I always am," you whisper back, stretching back in your seat. 

The settee is old and dipped in the centre, leaving you and Remus thigh to thigh, as close as you can be to one another without having your legs tangled. "It's not that bad," Remus says, putting an arm behind you in a show of support. "It's hiding in the kitchen cupboard, watch." 

His warning doesn't stop the flinch of the demon's appearance nor the way you jump back, almost dropping your head into him. "Sorry," you say. 

"Don't apologise," he says, but it's lost as the horror keeps on coming— the demon possesses the daughter, the daughter splits her head open on a wall. Something sharp splinters from her face and it's disgusting, it's too much, you whine something silly and push the pillow over your eyes. "Dove, don't suffocate. Look, I think it's done now," he says.

You look as he tells you to, trusting of your oldest, bestest friend, and your loyalty is rewarded with another scare that catches you off guard completely, a fleshy face of black gore so close to the camera that it feels like it's in the room. You scramble away from the screen and into Remus' arms forcefully, turning away from the screen and into his embrace. "What the fuck," you gasp. 

Difficult to explain why you're genuinely frightened but not the immediate safety of Remus' arm behind you, the tight hold of it, the ridge of a bicep pressed hard to your shoulders. "I'll turn it off," he says quickly, though his hands stay right where they are on your jumper. 

He smells like sandalwood and autumn rain, that earthy smell of rain and crushed leaves, like a walk in the woods. You start to laugh as you breathe him in, aware of the terrible fool you've made of yourself and the humour in the situation, at least. 

"I'm so sorry," you laugh, moving back, careful not to knee him somewhere delicate. 

His face comes into view, not half as annoyed as you worried it would be, brown eyes sugary sweet with soft lashes to match, his hands falling to your elbows. "Let me pause it." He keeps a hand on the middle of your back, fingers spread, encapsulating. It says I'm here without asking for anything in return. "Fucking hell, dove, I know you have bad nerves, but I've never seen one get you like that." 

You should put some amicable space between you. Remus should drop his hand. Instead, you put your hand on his collarbone and catch your breath, the excitement an instant headache waiting to bloom behind your eyes. 

"There," he says, his gaze back on you. "That'll help." 

You glance over your shoulder. Remus has changed the channel to World of Zoo, where a baby panda tries to stand while holding its own foot. "Nice," you say, smiling sheepishly to yourself. Nice. You loser. 

You turn back suddenly when his hand strokes your cheek. Two fingers, the backs of his marriage and pinky, tracing a short line down your still trembling cheek. "Seriously, dove, calm down. You think I'd let something hurt you?" he asks softly.

"No, I–" Can he stop you from swallowing your own tongue. "Of course not." 

"I can't believe it," he says, dropping his hand. "Never seen you like that, what happened?" He rubs your back roughly like he's trying to warm you up. "Let me make you a cup of tea, lovely." 

He says this, and yet he makes no move to leave your side. His behaviour is almost as odd as the way you respond, sinking into his touch. 

[schoenpepper]

Isekai'd Chronicles 1

Intro: Scarabia in an isekai AU.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, attempted murder on Kalim's part, also proofread by quillbot

A/N: I tried making Kalim's longer but I really don't know what else to write for him. He's still a cutie pie though.

Masterlist

An invitation makes its way to your teeny tiny hands after a week of your reincarnation (transmigration, maybe; what isekai genre is this?). You can't read it yet, but your nanny informs you that Prince Kalim Al-Asim is inviting you to tea the next day, something about missing your presence in the palace. You don't believe a five-year-old even knows what "presence" means, but an invitation from royalty is nothing to scoff at. Immediately, you're suited up and shipped off to the palace for a glorified playdate. 

Luckily for you, Kalim isn't really much to be wary of, be it now or in the future. He's the sweetest of all the male leads, innocent and naive, and an easy level capture. You two have tea together, and you find him harmless enough that you don't mind continuing the weekly playdates that you'd previously canceled. You teach him things your tutor taught you over the course of the week, and it's really easy to treat him like a cute little brother. He, in turn, tours you around the palace even though he doesn't have it memorized, and you two sit together and make silly jokes while waiting for some maid to find the both of you when you're lost. At some point, he gets really clingy and even starts crying when you're away for too long. Your parents assure you it's fine, and the queen and king don't mind having you over often enough to the point that every other day you're by Kalim's side, getting tutored at the same time.

Maybe he's a little bit overly clingy, though, and you chalk it up to him imprinting on you like a duckling. Eventually, instead of coming to the palace on days you're free, it becomes a cycle of you going to him and him visiting you at your own house, where he insists you walk around the garden and teach him the names of plants you barely even remember yourself. He's adorable, and you don't see it changing any time soon. So you pat yourself on the back and tell yourself that's one capture target down.

"Kalim!" Your little body tackles the crown prince to the ground, an arrow barely grazing your ear. It hurts; it's bleeding, but you force yourself to smile because if you don't, Kalim will—

Oh no, he's already crying.

There's a lot of movement in the background as Kalim's guards move to find the assailant, but you're focused on the teary ruby eyes that are fixed on the wound on your ear.

"You, you're hurt...I'm sorry..."

"It's not your fault, Kalim," you assure him, patting his head. Physically, you were younger, but you've always felt that this kid should be protected. "It's okay. We're fine. We're both still alive. That's all that needed to happen, right?" Kalim nods, but more and more sobs escape him as he clings onto you.

"I'll keep you safe from now on!" Kalim says through shaky breaths, and you laugh even when the wound hurts so much it feels like a mark burned onto your skin.

"Okay, Kalim. You can keep me safe."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

One playdate is a bit different from usual. You think it might be the new tea flavor served during snack time, or maybe it's different because your favorite cookies are occupying half the tray. Or maybe it's different because a pair of dark brown eyes are burning holes into the back of your head.

Jamil Viper is certainly a step up from Kalim—though he's socially of lower status, he was smarter, more cunning, cleverer, and competent at most things. As the second son of a baron, he'd been sold into the royal family as a personal aide to Kalim. In the game, he was a very difficult target, and his signature magic made for a much bloodier ending for the villain than Kalim's. But right now, he's just a five-year-old kid who's jealous that you get to have tea and snacks at the table while he has to stand next to Kalim and endure. You invite him to sit with you both after sending the maids away, and he begrudgingly accepts your offer, if only to bring relief to his tired legs.

Jamil isn't hateful, really; he's just pitiful. Maybe you can help him out a little bit so he doesn't betray Kalim like he does in the game, as Kalim is now your friend. You invite Jamil to more than just tea parties, and he learns to accept without a scowl. You manage to convince the king and queen to let Jamil study with you and Kalim, and the three of you find ways to pass the time in the enormous palace once classes are done. He might be warming up to you, you think, when a big bug flies towards him and you're the person he runs to, even though there are lots of adults around. Or maybe he just hates you and wants the bug to be up in your face. Who knows?

Kalim wasn't very academically inclined, though, and eventually, you and Jamil are being tutored separately from the prince. It hurts your ego a little that a kid is as quick on the uptake as you are, but Jamil's always been smart. He's resourceful too, and he always beats you at mancala, but he's good company and conversation somehow. And you decide, as you help plait his hair while he complains to you about how Kalim stormed into his room because he had a nightmare, that Jamil is harmless enough to be checked off your list of capture targets that will kill you.

Maybe.

"What do you want to be in the future?"

Jamil cracks one eye open to glare at you, huffing out a response. "Don't be silly." He closes it again. "I can only ever be Kalim's aide to the end, right?"

In the years you've known him, you know well enough that he didn't mean to be snippy. You pat his head and whisper back, your voice cracking funnily due to puberty. "You got an invitation to that magic school, right? When you become a really good mage, I'll talk to the king and queen for you." Being childhood friends with an Al-Asim meant they practically treated you as their own at this point. "I know you'll do great, so tell me what you want to be when you're free. What do you want to do?"

Jamil stops as he takes in your words. "You'd do that for me?"

"Sure I will."

"Then...maybe I'll go to the mage tower. And earn myself a title that's good enough to marry into higher nobility."

"Huh? Why would you want that?"

"It's a secret."

[countcvnt]

Howl

Chapter One: Coffee Shop Crush

[Werewolf!Poly!141 x GN!Reader]

Summary: Four years after a horrible attack, you and your childhood best friend move for her job. After the move, you frequent a coffee shop near your apartment, and you meet a cute ex-military man. You can't help but fall for him. Warnings: Mentions of blood, descriptions of scars, 2 named OCs (i know some people don't like that, and that's okay!) one of the OCs is a child (they are important, i promise) reader being insecure about said scars, pet names (from friend), no use of y/n Word Count: 2.3k A/N: I had an idea and had to write it!! THIS IS AN AU (obviously), I'm doing what i want and everyone is alive. Don't worry, I'm still working Experiment as well! I love Gaz, truly and deeply, you are about to see that in full swing baybeeeee! Divider by @cafekitsune

“This isn't so silly now, is it?”

Your friend looks at you, her hand on her hip. You can't help but roll your eyes. “I never said this was silly,” You deadpan at her. “I said–”

“‘The idea of wanting to go camping before you give birth is silly’.” She uses air quotes around the words.

“Yeah! The idea, not the action, Cynthia.” You bite back.

She rolls her eyes this time. She looks at the tent the both of you set up —mostly you— and smiles to herself. You can’t help but smile too. You groan at yourself and walk over to her. You pat her on the back.

“You’re right.” She looks at you, “This isn’t silly. I’m just–”

“A hater. I get it! I love you for it!” Her words stun you. You cross your arms at her and scowl. You grunt and walk away from her. “Hey!” She turns to you, “Where are you going?”

You click your tongue, “Gotta get wood for a fire, silly.” She gives you an enthusiastic ‘thank you’ and you walk off towards the treeline. The sun is setting and there is a horrible feeling settling in your gut. “You’re just a hater…” You mumble to yourself. “Nothing bad is going to happen.” You inhale sharply and walk into the woods. You grab some branches that look pretty burnable and rush back out to your campsite.

Cynthia says nothing about rushed actions, instead she motions for you to place the branches in the spot she made for the wood. You set it down and Cynthia grabs the lighter fluid. She douses the branches and sets them ablaze. 

She smiles and sits down a few feet from the fire and you watch her. She places her hands on her stomach and closes her eyes. She looks content. Genuinely, and utterly content. You sigh. One of her eyes squint open and she pats the ground beside. You don’t hesitate to sit down with her.

“What’s wrong?”

Your stomach flips. In a horrible way.

“I don’t know.” You look at the fire before staring up at the full moon. Your eyes cut back to her and she pats you on the thigh.

“We’ve been friends forever, you can tell me anything.” She gives you a soft smile.

“My stomach hurts.” It’s not a complete lie.

“Sorry, babes,” She shakes her head, “can’t help you there.”

“I guess–” You pause. “You’re so happy. Like, glowing… I want that too. What are you doing?” You let out an awkward laugh. Her face drops. “It’s not that I’m not happy, I just– I’m not happy like you.”

“Oh, sweetie,” She pulls you into a soft hug, her ‘mom voice’ coming out. “I promise, I’m not always thrilled. I mean, I’m about to be a single mom… That’s terrifying. But I do have you, and that means a lot to me.” Her hand rubs your back. “When we get back from this trip, we can do something you want to do!” She pulls away and presses her forehead to yours. “I promise.”

You close your eyes, nodding. “That means a lot,” You smile. Cynthia pulls away and you sigh. You can’t help but still feel sick. A loud whine comes from the trees behind you. An animal dying. You tense.

“Get in the tent.” You don’t even look at Cynthia, your eyes are laser focused on the woods.

“It’s probably wolves or something…” She doesn't argue though. Cynthia crawls into the tent and waits for you. You don’t get in fast enough.

Something big moves in your peripheral vision. You look up and want to scream, no noise comes out. Cynthia sees the pure shock on your face before she registers what’s going on. You're tackled to the ground by some creature. You figure it’s not an animal or a man. Definitely not a man. Its claws are large, too large to belong to an animal you know, and ripping into you in seconds.

A scream finally rips from your mouth. Cynthia doesn't move. You hope she doesn’t come out of that tent. You’re overpowered instantly; the creature gnashing its teeth above you, its claws rip into your stomach. Another one of your screams echoes through the woods. You look over at the tent.

Cynthia isn’t in the tent.

Your eyes widen. You don’t move.

“Get off– Get back!” Cynthia screams, her voice full of rage and fear. You can’t see what she’s doing but, suddenly, the creature removes itself from you and takes off away from the both of you. Your eyes cut to her. She’s standing there, holding a burning stick. Tears fill her eyes.

“Sweetie,” She’s using her mom voice again, you look at her with shock filled eyes. Adrenaline is dwindling, she sees it. “I need you to stay with me…” She’s fumbling for her phone. “I have service!” She calls what you can only assume is authorities, and everything is starting to fade in and out. She gives the operator the location and she’s trying to keep you focused on her. “Please, stay awake… I can’t lose you…”

You open your mouth to speak, but you are out. You’re too far gone to even comprehend what you want to say. You let the darkness take over. So much for doing whatever you wanted to do.

You sit at the coffee shop, eyes looking at the laptop screen in front of you. Your eyes move down to the time and your heart is in your throat when you see the date. It doesn’t get easier it seems. You know what day it is, really, you are always aware. But, seeing it makes it so real. You inhale sharply and look back at the screen.

You’re doing your annual “What The Fuck Attacked Me in Those Woods” research. It’s hard to constantly look things up. And, every year around the time of the attack, things become fresh. The scars, and the thoughts. It may be the worst time to look things up, but it’s the only time you want to.

So far, you’ve found a big wolf, a bigger bear (which you are sure it wasn’t either of those), and… A werewolf. That doesn’t make sense either though. Not completely. It fits the description of whatever attacked you. But those aren’t real. You sigh and continue looking at the pictures.

You come across an article. Someone claiming ‘a large creature’ (a werewolf, they are sure) had attacked their livestock. You want to look away when you catch images of the poor animals, but you can’t… You’re too busy comparing the marks on the sheep to the marks on your stomach.

It’s adding up…

“Whatcha lookin’ up?”

You almost jump out of your skin. A yelp escapes you and slam your laptop shut. “Gaz!” You whisper, swatting at him. “What the hell?”

“Sorry,” He puts his hands up and sits across from you, “but really… Were you looking up werewolves?” He raises a brow. He sounds playful. If only he knew you weren't playing.

Your brows furrow and your lips turn downward into a pout. “I’m not in the mood.”

Gaz immediately apologizes. “My bad,” he pauses. He watches you closely as you grab your coffee and take a sip. “Are you alright?”

You only nod. “I will be.” You solemnly sigh. Your eyes peer up at Gaz, his wheels are turning.

“Would now be a bad time to ask you out?”

You are certain the shock on your face is visible from across the coffee shop. Your jaw drops and you stare at him. Gaz shifts. You swallow hard and compose yourself. “Um, actually, I don’t think there would be a bad time for you to ask that.”

He is relieved. You see him relax. He gives you a toothy grin and you can’t help but return the smile. “What about tonight?” His confidence is back.

“Yes!” You are excited, you cannot help but feel so excited. “I mean, yeah, that's fine.” You rub your hands down your thighs and try to act nonchalant.

Gaz’s smile turns cheeky. “Perfect.” He jots something down on a piece of paper and hands it to you. His number. “I'm surprised I haven't given this to you yet, but here.” He stands from his seat. “I have work to do today, but tonight I'm all yours.” He winks at you.

Heat bristles across your cheeks. You nod at him as he leaves. You pick up your phone and quickly put his number in. You send a text to him, letting him know it's you. You slip your phone into your jacket pocket and bite the inside of your lip. You put your computer in your bag and begin to leave yourself. Your mind is running faster than you can keep up with.

Maybe it doesn't have to be a bad day after all.

As you're leaving the coffee shop you pull out your phone. One new message.

I forgot to tell you what I have planned for tonight

If you're up for it, I can keep it a secret? -Gaz

Your stomach knots. You want so badly to know. Maybe not knowing will help you grow. You trust Gaz.

Just let me know what I need to wear.

Something cute! But you're always cute. So that won't be a problem. -Gaz

Your face is burning again. You respond with an ‘okay’ and send a thumbs up emoji. You smile all the way home.

You open the door of your apartment and are greeted with a shrill scream of your name. You close the door and small arms wrap around your legs. You smile down at the child.

“Hey, booger.” You hug back. “Where's your mom?”

Footsteps come from another room and the child points towards the noise. Cynthia walks in and smiles at you. Her eyes narrow and she hums. “You seem… oddly happy.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, no!” She shakes her head. “It's good. Great! I know you were upset this morning… Did something turn your morning around?”

You shrug. “Maybe.” You smile at her. She perks up. “I'm going on a date tonight.” You are nonchalant this time. Playing it cool for your friend.

She runs towards you and hugs you, her daughter in between you and her. She squeals. Cynthia pulls away and smiles widely at you, after apologizing to her child who runs off. “For real?” When you nod, she continues. “With your coffee shop crush?”

You nod again. “He stopped by today just to ask me out…” Your stomach flips at the thought of that. You want to scream at how sweet he is.

“What's his name, anyway?”

You haven't told anyone his name. You met him a week ago and didn't want to jinx anything. You didn't dare mess anything up for yourself. Now, you feel obligated to at least tell Cynthia his name. “Kyle.”

“Know anything about him?” She cocks a brow.

“Well, we've only been talking for a week. I'm sure I know more about him than he does about me though… He’s ex-military. I know he works with his old military colleagues. I also know he has the prettiest eyes I've ever seen and is the sweetest man I've ever met.” You smile at her.

Cynthia beams at you. “I'm happy for you! We've lived here a week and you're already among progress.”

“Now I have all day to think about this date…” You pause, remembering your search from earlier. “Cynthia, I looked more up about–”

Cynthia’s eyes snap from her child and to you. “Sweetie,” her voice is soft but full of worry. “It's okay to not know what it was…”

“Maybe for you!” You keep from shouting. “Cynthia… I found someone saying something attacked their livestock and the marks looked like mine.” You whisper. “What they described is the only thing I can describe.”

“What'd they say?” She whispers back.

“Werewolf.” It's the only word that falls from your lips.

Cynthia tenses. She mumbled your name and sighs. “I know you want to know what happened that night– But maybe… Maybe it's best we don't know.”

That is her way of saying that werewolves aren't real. You bite your tongue. “At least I know I'm not crazy.”

Her eyes widen. “You aren't crazy. I saw what you saw!” She stops herself from raising her voice any further. “I have a bad feeling about this. Maybe it's best we let this lie.”

You keep from rolling your eyes. “Whatever.” You walk to your room and close your door. Inhaling sharply, you begin to find something to wear for your date. You have the rest of the day ahead of you, but you want to be ready. You see an old sheer top and scrunch your nose. You wonder why you still have it. It's not ugly, but…

You lift up your shirt slightly and look down at the raised skin stretching from the middle of your ribs down to below your belly button. The scar is big, gnarly, and reminds you too much of the attack to wear that sheer top.

“Hey!” A knock comes from the other side of your door and it swings open. You drop your shirt.

“Amelia–”

“I knocked.” She smiles at you. “Are you comin’ to my party?” Her eyes are big and round and sweet.

You nod. “I'm just going out tonight. Your party is tomorrow, silly.” You pat her on the head.

“Good.” She pats your thigh. “I'll be…” She pauses.

“Four.”

Amelia smiles even wider. “Yeah! Four!”

You can't help but smile. “Okay, Amelia, go to your mother.” You shoo her from your room. She exits as fast as she entered and you sigh. You shake your head and look back at your closet. “At least I have all day to figure out ‘something cute’ for tonight…”

[moonstruckme]

Hi darling I hope you’re well! I have this really noticeable scar on my forehead (much like Harry Potter’s) from me being clumsy as a kid and it’s really been bothering me lately and making me self conscious along with other things and I was wondering if you’d just do something where Sirius is being comforting after a rough week of insecurities. No worries if not😊 Thanks love!

Hi sweetheart, I'm good thanks! Thank you for requesting <3

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 845 words

You’re washing your face, and every pass of your fingers over the divot in your forehead feels like a physical pain. Which is silly, because the scar hasn’t hurt for years. 

It’s been a part of your face for so long that usually you hardly remember it. You look past it, the same way your eyes don’t see your nose because it’s always there. Lately, though, you can’t stop yourself from perceiving it constantly. You find yourself trying to cover it with makeup, tilting your head in conversation in attempt to hide it with your hair, staring into the mirror with a freakish intensity. It’s inescapable. 

You force yourself to tear your gaze from the blemish now, turning from the mirror towards where Sirius is waiting for you in bed. 

He sets down his phone at your approach, spreading his arms extravagantly. “Come here, my darling.” 

You go to them with a sharp ache in your chest, curling up against his side. 

There’s a pause and then Sirius hums, confusion teetering on the edge of concern. “What, not even a little laugh?” 

“You’re not very funny,” you tease halfheartedly. 

“You’re not usually a very particular audience.” 

He slides his palm on top of yours where it rests on the mattress. You intertwine your fingers with his. “Sorry,” you sigh. “Long week. I’m glad tomorrow’s Saturday.” 

You want to languish in your pajamas for the entire weekend. Tune into some mindless show and leave this prickling discomfort behind until you have to go back to work on Monday. 

Sirius brings your joined hands to your stomach, sliding them under your top familiarly. You try not to shiver. Sirius’ hands are always cold. You’d asked once if he thought he might be anemic, but he’d only given you a dry look and a jab from one of his insanely sharp elbows. 

He kisses the soft skin below your ear. “You gonna tell me about it, or do you enjoy keeping me in suspense?” 

“I do,” you say, grinning when he nips at your earlobe admonishingly. You do want to tell him, you find. “No, it’s just my scar. It’s been bothering me lately.” 

Sirius' thumb strokes over your navel, already warmer from your skin. “Bothering you how?” 

“Just bothering me.” You’re glad you’re facing away from him. You’re not sure you could take the intensity of his stare as you divulge your insecurities. “I don’t know, for some reason I all of a sudden feel kind of self-conscious about it. It’s not like it’s tiny or inconspicuous or anything.” 

He hums in silent understanding. For few moments the only sound is his thumb sighing over your skin. “Whenever I notice your scar,” he says, “it makes me think of how you told me you got it.” 

You make a quiet scoffing sound. You’d fallen after climbing too high in an old tree by your house when you were little. The branch had broken right out from under you, and you’d fallen all the way into the road, tearing a big gash in your head on the way down. Luckily there’d been no cars coming towards you, but your mom had nearly had a heart attack and it had made for a late night in A&E. 

Sirius’ hand moves up to your shoulder, pushing down so that you’re lying on your back. You try not to squirm under his gaze, knowing your scar has to be stark and shining in the moonlight coming in from your window. He traces the line with a slender finger. 

“It’s a cute story,” he says, and you can find no teasing spark in his watercolor eyes. “It’s fun to imagine little you, trying to get as high up as you could.”

“Before I took a dive onto a roadway,” you add dryly. He mirrors your grin.

“Technicalities. The scar’s adorable, because you were being adorable while you got it.” 

You feel your smile fade. “I think you’re the only one who thinks that, babe,” you say, trying to maintain some lightness in your tone. You’re not sure if you quite manage it. “I’m pretty sure to everyone else it’s just ugly.” 

“Whoa, excuse me.” Sirius frowns, taking your face firmly in hand. “Nothing about you could ever be ugly. That’s scientifically impossible. It defies the laws of nature. What goes up must come down, beer is homophobic, and you,” he kisses you, warm and pillowy soft, “are a fucking stunner. Every bit of you.” 

You kiss him back, smiling. “You’re such a flirt.” 

“Do you want me to prove it?” He quirks a brow. “Give me a minute to look at you, sweet thing, and I’ll get hard right now.” 

You gag, to his delight, and Sirius rolls on top of you, pinning your hips with his. “Fucking,” he plants a kiss on your jaw, “talk about my girlfriend like that,” he lands one on your lips, “one more time.” 

He works his way up your face, smooching your flushed skin until you’re spit-slick and cackling. He does your scar last. 

[banjjjangg]

HELLOO i saw that you were taking requests and i was wondering if you could maybe do an enemies to lovers fic with kazuha or wanderer? fluff ofcourse

thankyou and i hope you have a nice day hehehe

Supposed to Hate

Scaramouche/Wanderer x Reader

— Info: Oneshot + smau, modern au, highschool au, academic rivals, enemies to lovers, forced proximity(?), banter, fluff, crack.

— Sypnosis: It's tough having to constantly fight for the top place with someone as annoying as Scaramouche, your arch nemesis. But bad luck struck the both of you and you're suddenly partnered with him for a project.

Now Playing: Not Another Song About Love by Hollywood Ending. (I had a gacha phase)

Notes: timestamps don't matter, swearing

A/n: first request!! I hope this is what you wanted and have a nice day too anon (^o^)! (p.s. I'm sorry this took so long 😭)

To say that you're just rivals would be an understatement.

You and Scaramouche have always been on eachother's throats since freshman year. Why, you ask? Well you're always neck and neck when it comes to so many things, like grades, debate competitions, leader roles, higher position in the student council, and even popularity amongst students and teachers.

Your feud started when he openly insulted you. You see, competing for the top was one thing, insulting someone that you don't even know that much was another. The moment he started saying stuff like "who? Y/n? Tsk, that girl is only good at academics. In anything outside that, she's nothing." you knew you'll forever hate his guts. I mean, who is he to know what you're good at or not good at? He's barely even your acquaintance! You were just eachother schoolmates yet he has the nerve to say those thing to you? How revolting! You thought.

Oh but isn't this just a silly little competition? Well, not for the two of you. It has come to the point that you'd just openly curse and send middle fingers to eachother (without the teachers noticing of course).

.

This is why you were horrified to hear your teacher say that your partner for a huge project accumulating 20% of your grade would be him. You turned around and glanced at his table in the corner of the room and you can tell that he didn't like what he just heard either.

"But wouldn't pairing the two smartest people in class be unfair?" your seatmate whispered to you. Atleast you and Scaramouche weren't the only ones unhappy with this pairing. But did anyone object the teacher? Of course not. Unfortunately, your science teacher was very strict, and saying just one word wrong would be a one-way ticket to detention.

The class ended and now you were forced to accept the reality that you're supposed to work with Scaramouche for 20% of your grade. You notice him approach you with a small ripped up paper in his hand.

"For the girl who got 79 on math" he said, smirking, while reaching the paper in front of you.

"It's because my calculator broke, nerd." you spat back as you harshly grab the paper in his hand. You immediately went on your way out of the classroom.

What was on the paper? His number.

.

.

Day one.

You made your way to the door as soon as you hear your doorbell ring. You swiftly unlocked and opened it to see Scaramouche standing there with his backpack in hand. Before you could say anything to him, he walked past you and went inside your apartment. He placed his backpack on the couch as he sat on it himself.

"Rude." you whispered, likely to yourself.

"I heard that." he said while glaring at you.

"Good." you added, rolling your eyes as you sat on the small couch right infront of the bigger couch that he's sitting in.

The first day of working on the project was a mess. There were a lot of disagreements and arguments that happened but in the end, the two of you finally got to agree on something to work on involving the project.

.

Day two.

Thankfully, day two of working on the project was a lot more 'calmer' than day one. Yes, there were still disagreements but there were also agreements or at least more than the first day. For the sake of the project the both of you learned to somehow tolerate eachother.

.

Day three.

Once you heard your doorbell ring, you immediately went to unlock and open the door. It was Scaramouche of course, the two of you were still working on a project after all. But something seemed off about him, you can't pinpoint it, maybe it's because of his skin that's paler than usual? Or his expression that seemed tired or exhausted? You decide to shrug it off, it was none of your business.

There was still no greeting and he just went straight into your apartment to the couch where he usually sat on. You didn't comment anything because by now you were used to it.

You sat on the smaller couch right infront of the one he's sitting on. You were grabbing some materials on your backpack when suddenly—

*Cough* *cough* *cough*

You looked up from what you were doing and stared at him. He was covering his mouth with his hands, so this was what felt off.

"What?" he was glaring at you like you did something weird.

"Are you sick?"

"Is it not normal to cough every now and then?"

"It's not just that... You look..pale"

"It's none of your business" His response obviously annoyed you as you roll your eyes and continued what you were doing. He was right, it is none of your business.

But the thing is while you were working on the project he would cough, a lot, and you were getting annoyed and even concerned at what was happening to him. Once you've decided that enough is enough, you stood up and made your way to the cabinet where you keep various over the counter medicine incase you needed them. You grabbed the ones for cough and made your way back to the living room.

You reached your hand with the medicine for him to grab. He looked at it then looked at you with a 'what the fuck is this?' type of look.

"Take it, I'm being nice here." you said, insisting that he grab the medicine in your hands.

"Stop that." he said as he looks at you with suspicion.

"Stop what?"

"Being nice to me."

"Am I not allowed to be a decent human being now?"

"You're supposed to hate me." you scoff at what he just said.

You grabbed his hand and placed the medicine on top of his palm. "Literally just take the medicine." you insisted once again before going back to sit on the couch you were sitting on.

The day continued as it normally would, his coughs thankfully lessened but his annoying antics also lessened, you wouldn't complain though.

.

Day four.

This day is a bit different, because Scaramouche has been oddly nice to you. No, I don't mean that he suddenly turned overly kind, I meant the small things that he normally wouldn't do like instead of telling you to "do it yourself" whenever you ask him to pass you something or do something for you, he actually does it now. You've also noticed that he seemed less annoyed at you or at least lesser than usual.

Overall, it made him less annoying so it made things easier for the both of you. You've also taken it upon yourself to not be as annoyed at him as you usually would. All this lead to the two of you actually having a casual conversation intead of the usual "I'm only talking to you because of this stupid project" type of interactions. It was so odd and fascinating to the extent that at some point the two of you would make genuine jokes instead of sarcastic remarks. But of course it all ended with the "dang I'm supposed to hate you" realization.

But hey, maybe Scaramouche isn't that bad after all.

.

Day five.

The day of the presentation, the two you were sitting on your usual seats in class while waiting for the teacher, meanwhile, all your other classmates were double checking their projects. You heard your phones notification so you grabbed it from your pocket, it was a message from scaramouche, you turned around and glanced at him just to him on his phone while typing something.

.

Navigation

[borathae]

Galaxies

"You and he create galaxies when you are together."

Pairing: Witch!Yoongi x Witch!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Comfort Smut, Slice of Life Fluff

Warnings: Domish switch!Yoongi, subby switch!Reader, they're actual soulmates, their connection is so deep i'm in pain, love making, having to stay quiet, some flirty bickering because it's them, a short sexy fight about Dominance, oral (both receiving), handjob, pussy fingering, eye contact & hand holding, lots of kissing, he eats her pussy in multiple ways, and worships her breasts, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), creampie, slight strength kink but make it magical, cowgirl position morphing into lotus position, dirty talk but make it romantic with a pinch of sexy, something magical happens between them, cuddles & snuggles & giggles for aftercare, they're so in love i'm gonna cry

Wordcount: 8k

a/n: i always thought that i couldn't get any more obsessed with them and then i introduced witch!yoongi x witch!reader and i actually became INSANE for them like i'm in pain they're meant for each other 😭💜

《 Bonus Smut to this 》

Yoongi is under the covers, reading, when you enter the room. He looks at you and looks away instantly, doing a terrible job at hiding the widening of his eyes. A flush of his cheeks follows.

“Are you being shy because I’m in my towel?” you ask him in a chuckle.

“I’m not shy”, he defends himself, staring into his book obsessively.

“You’re so silly sometimes”, you say and drop the towel to change into your pyjamas instead. 

Yoongi doesn’t look at you directly even once, but tries to sneak one hidden glance from the corner of his eyes. 

“I saw that”, you tease him for it.

“I didn’t do anything. Whatever, good night”, he babbles and slams the book closed, proceeding to lie down on his side with his back facing you.

He makes you laugh. He is so effortlessly funny.

“Gosh, you silly you. What’s the matter?” you coo, bending down to hug him. 

He has his eyes closed and lips pulled into a thin line, almost as if he is trying really hard not to look. 

You snicker, pecking his cheek.

“I love your silly bum” you say, giving his butt a soft slap as you straighten back up.

Yoongi grumbles something unintelligible.

You bring the towel into the bathroom to dry and get two glasses of water from downstairs. Your grandparents have gone to sleep already, Taehyung and Jungkook seem to have come home as well, judging by the painting equipment on the dining table. They are nowhere to be found, however their jackets are missing. They must be outside. You could look for them, but quite frankly and with no ill intent, you don’t want to. You want to go back to Yoongi and tease him some more.

The man of your hour is back to reading.

“I’ve got water”, you announce yourself, placing the glasses on the bedside table. 

“Mmh.”

You climb onto Yoongi’s lap, staying there for a little until he finally looks at you over the edge of his book. He cocks his right brow up in question.

“Boop”, you say, poking the tip of his nose with your finger.

He blinks rapidly, moving his head back like a cat surprised about being touched. He even ogles your finger, going a little cross eyed for it.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have the most boopable nose ever?” 

“What?” 

“Boop”, you do it again, forcing Yoongi to show off his double chin from how aggressively he tries to ogle your finger.

“What are you doing?” his voice is distorted from the position.

“Has no one booped your nose before?” 

“What? No?” 

“Boop.”

“What is that? Why are you doing this?” he sounds so adorably stressed about the unfamiliar affection.

You have to laugh, cradling his cheeks to pull him in for a kiss on the nose.

“You’re so fucking adorable, gosh you”, you say, biting his nose softly before giving it a second kiss. 

You sit back, sliding your hands to his chest. His pulse is a little raised. Cute.

“It’s affection. It’s nice. When you boop someone it means that they’re being playful with you and that they think a part of you is especially cute”, you explain and poke his nose, “boop.”

“Okay?” he tilts his head to the side, lifting his right hand to poke your nose, “boop?”

“Yes, exactly, but you have to raise your pitch as you do it. Like this. Boop.”

“Boop”, he barely raises his pitch.

You giggle, leaning into his touch. His eyes soften, he lets out a breathy chuckle, poking your nose again.

“Boop”, his voice was perfectly pitched.

“This was perfect”, you exclaim, wiggling on his lap because he makes you so giddy.

“Okay, if you say so”, he says in a chuckle, looking back into his book with a slight shake of his head. He is smiling to himself. 

“Oh Yoongi”, you say, rolling off of him to drop into the pillow. You stretch your arms from yourself, tracing his outer thigh like this.

You have luminescent stars on your ceiling. When you were little, you always counted them until you fell asleep. You find yourself doing it again, except that you can’t seem to get sleepy enough. You are a little droopy, but definitely not sleepy. Yoongi finished a chapter in the time you counted the glowing stars, now finding himself in the middle of the next chapter when you roll to your side beside him. 

You are under the covers, having them pulled up all the way to your ears. 

Yoongi notices your eyes on him and looks down. You are gazing at him as if he was the brightest star in this room, giving him a cute toothless smile the moment your eyes meet.

“Should I turn off the lights?” he asks.

You shake your head.

“I counted the stars a hundred times”, you tell him.

“You did?”

“Yeah”, your smile grows, the sparkle in your eyes does as well.

Yoongi feels his pulse speed up just a little.

“I like looking at you”, you say, showing him your teeth in a grin.

Yoongi is melting. You are so adorable.

He brushes the back of his hand down your cheek. You accept the affection with closed eyes.

“You’re beautiful”, he says softly, looking back into his book.

He tries to pull his hand back, but you stop him with a small “no”.

He studies you curiously. You are turning your back to him, wiggling it out of the blanket.

“Can I have scratches?”

Yoongi begins to scratch your back wordlessly, holding the book with his other hand and using his thumb to flip the page. He’s got the hand size for it. 

You like this so much. Back scratches are the best thing ever. They are so tingly and relaxing. Yoongi never stays at one place for too long, touching whatever inch he could reach and alternating between different patterns. He also switches between using his fingertips and using his nails, adding such amazing sensations to the innocent affection.

You are significantly sleepier when Yoongi’s arm grows tired and he has to take a short break by scratching your scalp instead. You showed him how he could do it best in order not to tug on your hair or damage it and he is doing it exactly like that, using a little bit of pressure because you like it. 

You visibly melt into the touch, inching closer to him until your butt touches his leg. You let out a little sound of comfort, nodding your head.

Yoongi looks at you, lowering the book for a moment. Something inside him shifts into the right place, granting him access to his sweetest realization.

He is actually taken.

He has someone who sees him worthy to date. 

He makes someone feel safe in his presence, safe enough that she loves him.

He can be gentle and soft and tender. He can make someone feel good.

He isn’t alone anymore, holy fuck, he is actually taken.

This is his reality.

Yoongi places the book aside to spoon you instead, putting his arms around you so he can pull you against his chest. He buries his nose in your neck, giving you a soft squeeze. 

You giggle, snuggling into him instantly.

“My princess”, he whispers.

“Your heart is racing so much.”

“I’m happy.”

“I’m happy too, my love.”

“Mhm my princess”, he lets out in a breath, following it up with a kiss to your cheek.

“Tickles”, you snicker.

He chuckles with you, wrestling you gently until you are on your back and he can kiss every inch of your face. You accept it with a racing heart and butterflies in your stomach. The day must have been really, really amazing for Yoongi because you have never witnessed him so affectionate before. Quite frankly, it drives you mad in the fluffiest of ways. 

Yoongi ends his love attack with a big smooch to your lips. 

“Mwuah”, he lets out, scrunching his nose, “that was affection too.”

“I might actually pass out. You’re so cute, oh god.”

Yoongi takes your hands and pins them above your head, holding them softly.

“You’re cuter”, he says and rests his head on your chest. You try to hug him, but his hands keep a tight grip around yours. 

So you stay pinned down and under him, while Yoongi nuzzles your chest, breathing deeply as he does.

“Your heart’s racing.”

“Because you are so affectionate. I’m not used to it.”

He lifts his head, looking at you.

“I can be affectionate.”

“Yeah, you can. Just not so cutely.”

“Is that so bad?”

You shake your head, “it’s the best thing ever. I like it so much.”

“Mhm”, he lowers his eyes, letting them run over you mindlessly. 

Somehow in the nice silence of it all, he managed to throw one leg over yours, now resting it between your thighs. Like this, you are so close, separated by nothing but your thin sleeping clothes. 

Yoongi meets your eyes again.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful too, my love.”

He cups your cheek, running his thumb along your cheekbone. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

“I like it a lot that you always ask me, you know?”

“Yeah well, it means a great deal to me to know you want it. I’m not Hades”, he jokes, making you laugh.

“Oh god, not that again. Yeah, you definitely aren’t him”, you say and ruffle his hair, “come and kiss me, you softie.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told twice, falling into the kiss with closed eyes and a happy purr. 

He wants to savour every second of the kiss, just as you want to do the same. And because you and he want to cherish the kiss with such care, it happens that it lasts oh so very long. The touches are adoring and full of love. Your limbs never truly break apart, tangling closer together as the moments become longer. 

Distance is only truly present when you have to breathe and even during those moments, you stay oh so very close. 

You spend a lot of time on your back, but Yoongi spends just as much time on his back. Truly, the bed might be small, but you roll around in it nonetheless as time passes in the sweetest way. 

The night is a lot darker when Yoongi begins breaking the kiss more and more often. You shift your legs to get more comfortable, brushing against his middle this way. The reason for his sudden need for so many breaks reveals itself to your skin hard and a little wet.

“Ah-hm”, he lets out, following it up with a huff of air and a messy kiss to your neck.

Tingles run through you. You move your leg again. 

Yoongi reaches down and stops it gently.

“Stay still, please.”

“Boongie, did you get hard?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just…so nice.”

“Oh my god, Yoongi”, you gasp, embarrassing him so much that he breaks away and flops to his other side.

“I’m sorry”, he says into his hands, which he has thrown over his face.

With a fond chuckle, you spoon him, trying to drag his hands away from his face.

“Why are you apologising?” 

“I, I’m not sexualising you. I swear, I’m not.”

“Gosh, you silly boy”, you say, rolling him to his back. You straddle him, grinding down on him purposefully.

Yoongi gasps, arching his back and squeezing his legs together. His hands grasp your hips, squeezing desperately.

Perfect. What a perfect little reaction.

You put your weight on his thighs, placing your hands on his chest. His heart is racing. 

“You’re worrying about the silliest things sometimes. I like when you get hard.”

“You do?”

“Mhm, I do”, you dance your fingers to his neck and close them around it. 

Yoongi parts his lips, fluttering his lashes droopily. You aren’t even applying pressure and his head already feels heavier than before. 

“It’s so hot when you get hard for me. Can I give it a feel, my love?” 

He nods his head, humming a shy yes.

You keep your dominant hand on his neck, using the other to feel him up. His sleeping shorts are very thin, giving you the most delicious sensations on your fingertips. You like how hard cock feels under clothing. How it is just so there and hard and how you can feel out the shape of it. You especially love it when Yoongi gets hard because he is a very leaky man. His once dark grey shorts become almost black at the parts where his tip naturally lies. Wet and sticky. That’s how the fabric feels as you trace him. 

“Hm”, the sound leaves him shakily.

You lift your gaze. He has his eyes closed, biting down on his lower lip and furrowing his brows. His hands lie on each side of his head, opening and closing repeatedly. Even now he is looking for someone to hold his hands. If you weren’t suddenly filled with so much gluttony for this man, you would hold his hands until forever ends. 

But instead, you abandon his neck to pull down his shorts and take out his cock. Yoongi rips his eyes open, reaching for you to stop you. He can’t get very far and then you have him gripping the sheets and rolling his eyes back as you sink his cock into your mouth. 

You lick and suckle his tip as if it was a dripping popsicle, slurping and humming the same way. 

Yoongi doesn’t know words right now. He doesn’t know speech. Nor think. All he knows is noise. Make noise. Gasp. Gasp. Gasp and sigh and gasp again. Breathe. Gasp. Whimper. Gasp again. Yoongi doesn’t know words, nor speech and all he can really do is fight for air.

His trembling gasps and little sounds only strengthen your hunger for him. You moan, wiggling your tongue around him in sloppy yet calculated swirls. He tastes different as a human. More…human. As a vampire, he tastes sweet and definitely magically addicting. His essence is meant to charm, to pull the person in and make them dependent on its taste. Right now, all his essence serves is to prove how needy you get him. He doesn’t taste sweet, but he tastes good. So good. Even as a human he tastes so good. 

“Wow Yoongi, you’re so yummy”, you lull, taking him in deeper with a delicious moan. 

Yoongi finally gains back control. He grasps your hair and tugs you away.

“Stop.”

“Don’t like it?” you make sure, fleeing his weak grasp to instead litter his inner thighs with love bites and hickeys. 

It is Not easier to handle for Yoongi. Not in the fucking slightest. He stutters his words as if he never spoke before.

“We, we aren’t at ho-home. You’re so loud, you’ll wake, wake your grandparents.”

You stifle a chuckle.

“Oh Yoongi”, you say, biting his thigh on the most sensitive spot.

Yoongi gasps, arching his back and throwing his hand over his mouth.

“Quiet please”, he tries to hiss but it comes out as a needy beg.

You smile, changing position so you were hovering over him. Your crotch is pressed into his balls, his cock rubs against your stomach. Up until this point in your relationship the thought of being fucked by you had never crossed Yoongi’s mind. He didn’t fantasise about it, didn’t visualise it nor wished for it. Quite frankly, he never even considered it an option. Now all his mind produces are images of having you pump into him. He gulps repeatedly, gawking at you with hazy eyes. What is happening to him? 

You move closer to his face, grinding your crotch against him naturally. His hips chase it, his head is pounding. Holy fuck, you’re messing him up. 

“We’ll be quiet. Don’t worry”, you whisper, intertwining your hands with his’, “at least, I’ll be quiet”, you add with a teasing smirk.

“Princess”, he croaks, squeezing your hands. 

“Yeah?” you breathe, kissing his neck.

Yoongi speaks with his eyes rolled back and his body shivering with each kiss. 

“Promise me to be quiet.”

“I promise.”

“I want you.”

“I want you too”, you say and trace his ear with your tongue.

He trembles, ripping his hands from your grasp to hold your waist instead. Just once then he already changes his mind again and looks for your hands. 

“Mhm, I want you like crazy”, you purr as your tongue continues to trace his ear. He seems to be sensitive there and you like it when he shivers. 

“Princess…” he sighs, giving you all the shivers you so like to witness. 

“Yoongi…” you breathe, kissing a path down his clothed torso until you have his cock under your lips again.

You take him back inside, paying attention to his tip while your hands do the rest. It feels so good and Yoongi is feeling his control slip. Panic. He presses his legs together and reaches down, tugging you away.

“Wait, just wait”, he gasps out.

You sit back on your heels.

“Changed your mind?”

“No, I just.” He sits up, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. “Sorry, it’s fast. For me. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I’m sorry for rushing you. Do you want to stop?” you say, rubbing his back.

“No, I just need a moment. I, I get so horny so fast. And, and then I can’t control my thoughts anymore and it’s”, he huffs out air, “fucking shit, I’m talking actual ass.”

“No, you’re not. Why do you wanna control your thoughts during these moments?”

“Because…I don’t know. They’re really sexual.”

“And? I’m having sexual thoughts too.”

“You do?” 

Your eyes meet. You nod your head. 

“But they’re really sexual”, he insists.

“Samesies.”

He blinks rapidly, looking away. He rubs his own neck, doing so nervously.

“You know what I think your issue is right now?”

“Tell me.”

“Your sense of smell sucks ass.”

He scoffs, cocking his brow at you in question.

You get out of bed and put yourself in front of him. You take off your pants. Yoongi tries not to look but still ends up looking. Once bared, you step closer. Right between his legs so he has no choice but to look at you. 

“Can I have your hand?”

He offers it to you, switching between looking at your face in question and your middle in desire. 

You flip his hand so his palm is facing up, then guide it between your legs. You hold his pointer finger, moving it through your folds so he can really get a feel of how wet he makes you.

Yoongi purrs, tightening his jaw.

“Can you feel that?”

“Ye-yeah.”

“You might not be able to smell how wet I am, but I am”, you say and grind down on his finger, “you’re not the only one horny. I’m horny too, so much. I’m so wet for you”, you mewl, giving him pretty eyes.

“Holy fuck, princess”, he chokes out, pulling you into a kiss with his left hand on the nape of your neck. He shakes off your hand, taking over between your legs. His middle and ring finger sink into you, his thumb begins to massage your clit. 

Not having expected the sudden burst of pleasure, you whimper into the kiss, grasping his shoulders to stop your wobbling knees from giving up completely. 

Yoongi curls his long fingers, grazing over your spot most sensitive with such precision that you have to break the kiss just to gasp his name. 

“That’s nice, mhm?” confidence is finally in his voice. The raspy deepness of it has returned now that he is in his comfort space; making you feel good. 

“Yeah”, you gasp, following it with a wobble of your knees, “is so nice.”

“Mhm. Put your arms around me.”

You follow, burying your hands deep in his soft hair. It’s so soft and thick. He has so much of it. It’s so fucking amazing to play with it. 

“That’s it. Hold onto me, my beloved”, he whispers, falling back into the kiss with you. You use your tongues instantly, sighing and moaning quietly. All while his hand continuously drags the warmest and deepest pleasure to the surface. Every curl of his fingers, every rub of his thumb is placed with precision. As if he studied your body to the point of perfection. And in a sense he did. He might still hide his own spots from you, feeling too scared to show himself this way, but he knows the paths of your body by heart. While he hid behind always taking the lead, he learned so that he can now make you sigh so very much with just three of his fingers.

But you are stubborn. He likes this about you even if sometimes your stubbornness leads him into rather overwhelming situations. Like your right hand suddenly dropping to his cock to begin jerking him off. He breaks the kiss, moaning loudly just to follow it up with a gasp.

“Quiet”, he hisses.

“I’m not the one being loud”, you throw back sassily, twisting your hand around his heated tip. It looks so flushed between your fingers, like the prettiest shade if pink.

“I’m gonna fucking ruin you”, he presses out through gritted teeth, huffing out air in time with his fingers fucking into you. Again and again. In a fast, sloppy rhythm. 

But because you are you – the most perfect, stubborn, giving goddess – you don’t crumble under his touches. You match his rhythm, pumping his cock with such sloppy goodness that Yoongi feels dizzy. He moans into your mouth, tilting his head back. He licks your lips, wobbling so much that he accidentally licks the tip of your nose as well. It makes you giggle, which in return messes him up more. 

“I don’t think that you’re gonna ruin me” you whisper, watching the effect of your hand job wash over his face. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes rolled back and halfway open. 

“Brat”, he croaks, “ahmmmm”, he moans, squeezing his lips together just so he can’t be loud. 

“But I’m your brat.”

“Mhm, my brat. My pretty, stubborn brat”, he whispers and kisses you deeply. This is the kind of kiss which would already make you weak in normal situations but with his hand between your legs, it is quite frankly impossible to receive. 

It suddenly gets so, so hard to keep the rhythm going. Yoongi, who notices the faltering touches around his cock, smirks into the kiss, picking up skill to show you how good he can give it to you. He always gets what he wants. He is going to ruin you. Your sweet, little attempts to break him first might distract him for a while, but at the end of it, he is going to get what he wants. You’re his perfect soulmate, you are going to crumble for him even if you try so very hard it make him crumble first. 

You squeak a little, breaking the kiss. You twist his hair and tug, forcing his head to tilt back. Your eyes are half lidded and droopy as you look at him, your lips are parted. 

“You have to…do better.”

He smirks, “don’t test me.”

“Try me.”

With a soft push he puts distance between you and him. His fingers are gone for now, grabbing your wiggling hips. He slides off of bed, falling to his knees and dropping his head on the edge of the mattress. Like this, he pulls you onto his face, licking your pussy with an eager tongue the second it comes into contact with you.

“Yoongi”, you mewl, having to twist the blanket for support. 

“Lean on me, princess. I’ve got you”, he purrs between licks, caressing your shaking legs with eager hands.  

“This is unfair, oh god Yoongi”, you mewl, dropping your head. You are really trying to be quiet. Yoongi not so much now that he is pussy drunk and lost. He is so noisy in his licks and slurps, adding throaty growls and delicious purrs to it. How obviously in his element he finally is. How little he cares for his environment when his face is buried between your legs. The switch will never fail to make you shake. To have him go from shy and reserved to a complete noisy munch. Oh, you can barely handle it. 

But even Yoongi has to stop. Even Yoongi has to come to the painful realisation that humans have to breathe, that he can’t spend minutes without air. He growls as he does it, looking up at you with blown out pupils and a messy lower face. 

“You’re my fucking everything, princess”, he purrs, “fuck, why is air so sparse?” 

“Cause you’re human.”

“Mhm, if only there was a spell for unlimited air. I’d live right here”, he lulls, dragging you back onto his tongue to devour every inch of your addictive pussy. Even as a human he loves the taste. Even as a human he feels charmed by it. Even as a fucking human, he can’t get enough. He feels mad in desire. His thoughts are scrambling again, spitting the most vile things imaginable, but he feels no shame anymore. Just maddening desire to make all these thoughts a reality. He wants you shaking, trembling and whimpering his name. He wants you wetting his face and gripping his hair. This is what he is good at. Even as a human. The proof is right there. He exists to give and give and give. 

You can’t even be mad at him for putting his own needs on the backbench because he is currently making you come insanely close to an orgasm and you are panicking.

You begin fleeing, gripping his hair, stumbling while he continuously drags you back onto his tongue. 

“It’s too much, please”, you beg. 

Yoongi slows down, using the moment to catch his breath. His tender hands rub the back of your thighs, soothing the shakes in them.

“Hurts?”

“No, too close.”

“Mhhhm”, he purrs and stops caring about your little whines. He drags you back onto his tongue, sucking and licking you on the spots most sensitive. Being close isn’t a reason to stop. He won’t entertain your begs when this is the reason. You talk big about making him crumble first, but he is hellbent on proving you wrong. He sucks and slurps, moving your hips on his tongue so you can feel everything. He basks in every throb, in every pulse and new droplet of pleasure you feed him. Fuck, he loves eating your pussy. 

You twist his hair, wobbling so incredibly much, and throw your hand over your mouth, scrunching your face as he makes you feel so much pleasure that it is hard to be quiet. He is definitely not easier to handle as a human. His fangs and long tongue might be missing, but his talent remains. This is it. If you hadn’t known it yet, you definitely know now. Yoongi is actually good. He isn’t just good because of vampiric magic, he is good because he has skill and an actual, insane obsession with eating pussy. 

“Yoongi please”, you beg because begging is all you can do.

He sucks on your clit with vigour, reminding you how sensitive you are there. The wet, fast licks which follow afterwards do the rest.  

You have to climax on his face if you wanted to or not. You really want to. He feels so good. 

“Yoon- you…unfair”, you choke out and feel the knot break. Hard and very hot. And because it’s Yoongi, he presses you closer as you throb, making it fucking impossible to function. If it wasn’t for your hand, you would squeal his name as loudly as you can.

You begin fleeing. Yoongi doesn’t let you. He uses magic on you to lift you and flip you so you were kneeling by the bed with your tummy against it. He cages you in behind him, kissing your neck with wet, puffy lips. His cock is between your legs, fucking back and forth to grind against your pussy. Electric. He makes you feel electric. And so utterly his’.

“Did you just use magic to, to move me?”

“Hm, maybe”, he purrs, placing his left hand over yours while he lets his right slip between your legs again.

You writhe and squirm, pressing into him just as much as you flee him. You whimper softly, reaching behind yourself to twist his hair. He purrs, cuddling closer as his hips grind into you.

“Mhm, now you’re so wet”, he whispers, playing with your clit even if you’re still sensitive, “and so fucking puffy. Mhm princess, love when you’re like this.”

“Yoongi please”, you get out, dropping your head against him. 

“Sensitive?” 

“Yeah”, you mewl.

“You’re such a good girl”, he praises, rewarding you with his cock against your clit.

You gasp, trying to form words.

“What’s the matter, mhm?”

“I love you.”

He falters, stilling for just a moment before he hugs you tightly and kisses your cheek.

“I love you too, my beloved”, he says against it, following it up with a rub to your clit with his tip, “boop.”

“Huh?” you laugh instantly, craning your neck to look at him.

“Did I do it right, mhm?” he chuckles.

“I guess? Oh god, Boongie you’re so cute.” 

“Mhm, you’re cuter”, he says and slips his hand to your hips. “Stay quiet, I know you can do it”, he says and breaks away to lie down on the floor with his head between your legs. With one magical push he has you smothering him with your wet pussy. 

“Yoo-”, you silence yourself by dropping your head on the bed and biting the blanket. You huff out air repeatedly, writhing in his strong hold as he drags burning pleasure to the surface. 

You learned your lesson. Don’t challenge Yoongi about who gets the other to break first because you will lose. Even as humans you can’t win against him. His touches are too powerful, his devotion just too strong. With drool soaking the blanket and your legs shaking, you take the sloppy head he gives you against your childhood bed while the blinds are still open. 

If it wasn’t already fucking hot, the way he gives it to you does the rest. It isn’t long and he has you throbbing on his tongue a second time. The blanket works overtime to silence your squeals, his magic keeps you from completely sitting down on him. 

He also uses his magic to move you after you flee in overstimulation. He is on his feet within seconds, carrying you in his arms with ease. You know that he is using magic because it tingles a little. Or maybe you are tingling because he literally made you see stars. 

Whatever the case, you are utterly and completely his’ right now. He gazes up at you with his face wet and his lips puffy and deep pink. 

“Still wanna talk big?” he asks.

“I can’t stand you”, you choke out, dropping your head on his shoulder.

He laughs, “it’s what you get for challenging me, you little brat.” 

You tremble, exhaling shakily. 

“Aww poor baby, did I break you?” he coos as he climbs onto bed with you. You sit on his lap like this, hugging him oh so tightly.

“Shut up.”

He laughs deeply, patting your butt. He kisses your shoulder, speaking softly.

“You did really well.”

“I still can’t stand you.”

“Princess, no. Don’t talk like this”, he whines in a chuckle. 

You lift your head, meeting his smiling face. You smile at him instantly, cupping his glowing cheeks. 

“I lied. I can’t get enough of you”, you say.

“That’s so much better.”

You giggle, pushing him down to kiss him. Yoongi falls with a throaty moan, letting you straddle him gladly. This is a position he will always feel comfortable in. You and he are equal here and he loves it when you show him that you can push him around easily. 

You moan and sigh into the kiss, feasting on the taste of you as your hands are restless on his torso. His own hands are restless as well and somehow in the fumbling of it all, he manages to take off your shirt. It drops to the floor, Yoongi pulls you to his face instantly so he can kiss and suck your breasts. Like this, your pussy is grinding against his clothed stomach, messing up his shirt. 

“I want your skin, please Yoongi.”

“Rip my shirt”, he lulls, face first in your tits. 

“How??”

“Challenge the feelings and use their strength. Trust me.”

You do as you are told, ripping the shirt with ease. 

“Yoongi”, you moan, throwing the shirt to the side. It repairs itself mid air because Yoongi does it, dropping to the floor in one piece. 

“Good job, my good girl. Fuck, my good girl”, he praises, burying himself back in your tits to devote his everything to them.

You close your eyes in a roll, dropping your forehead on the edge of the backrest. You have what you craved. You are grinding against his naked stomach, feeling everything. His soft skin, his happy trail and his warmth. If he hasn’t already ruined you before, he definitely would have now. But he already made you crumble, resulting in the grinds to make you twitch each time your clit comes into contact with him.

“You feel so good…”

“Mhm, you feel so good too, princess.”

“I wanna fuck you.”

He smiles, “wanna fuck you too.”

You shimmy down until you have his cock under you. You wrap your fingers around his base, guiding it through your folds. 

Yoongi purrs, gazing at you with droopy eyes and a giddy smile. His big hands caress your thighs, his chest heaves up and down in excited breaths.

“My beautiful”, he sighs, lowering his lids just a little more, “can’t wait to be inside.”

“I’ll do it now, I can’t wait. Ready?” 

He smiles up at you, nodding his head with a hum.

“I love you.”

“I love you too”, he whispers, arching his back when you sink him into you. 

He bottoms out within seconds, filling you up so good that you have to gasp for air.

“Does it hurt?” he asks worriedly.

But you shake your head, “it feels so good. So warm and, and...” You shiver, smiling at him. “And so right.”

“It does princess, it does”, he agrees with adoration in his honey voice.

You start moving, struggling within seconds because your legs are wobbly. So to help you, Yoongi props his arms up and holds both your hands, giving you something to lean on this way. Moving becomes so much easier, the connection even deeper. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, fucking beautiful, fuck”, Yoongi gets out, gazing at you with droopy eyes. His toes are curling. The pleasure you give him is intense and he wants to close his eyes, but missing out on your beautiful face would hurt too much. So he powers through it. He gazes even if his eyes burn in exhaustion, he smiles even if his lips want to form moans instead. 

To be looked at with such love makes you feel so good. So goddamn good that you don’t have to bounce on him to feel eternal. He is glad that you aren’t because it would set him off with the first movement. He likes the slowness of it, how gentle you move and how it makes both of you float in a warm, fluffy cloud of good pleasure.

“You’re beautiful, Yoongi”, you get out, squeezing his hands.

“You are”, he sighs and closes his eyes.

To watch him let go and truly enjoy it is too much. “Oh god”, you tremble, having to gasp. You stop instantly, otherwise you would have lost yourself. 

Yoongi opens his eyes and furrows his brows when he sees the sudden panic on your features.

“What’s the matter?” 

“My control, I-” 

“You’re safe, let it happen.” 

“But what will happen to you?” 

“Let it happen”, he encourages you and then his dark brown eyes glow purple. 

Your control crumbles instantly. Your eyes match his glow.

“Yoongi, your eyes.”

“Yours are the same.”

“What?” 

Thankfully you have a mirror on the wall just high enough that you can see yourself in it, meeting your purple eyes. You exhale shakily, meeting Yoongi’s equally as purple eyes in the reflection.

He smiles, squeezes your hands when you laugh in both disbelief and the overwhelming happiness such a connection brings you.

“Yoongi, oh my god, we’re the same.”

“I know.”

You turn to him, cupping his cheeks.

“My love, oh my love.”

He leans into your touch, sitting up moments later because he wanted to be closer to you. Like this, his stomach gives such nice pressure to your clit. He lifts you for just a second with the help of his magic and crosses his legs, making it more comfortable for both of you to be so close. Like this, you sit on his lap with your own legs around his hips.

“My love”, he whispers, moving your hips slowly so the connection can deepen even more. 

The glow becomes brighter and brighter. It is just you and him. You have never been closer than right now. If there was still doubt about your connection somewhere in this universe, this right here is the final proof. You share the same breath, the same warmth and the same colour of eyes as magic courses through both your bodies. You and he are both witches whose magic is based on their emotions and in this moment, your emotions are the same, your magic is one.

“I’d wait a million lifetimes for you, ___”, he whispers, cupping your cheek.

“I’d move the fucking stars for you, Min Yoongi.”

He smiles. Perhaps your eyes deceive you, but there are markings of purple suddenly glowing under his skin. Like a tattoo invisible made visible now that you let his own control slip oh so safely. And as your hips dance with his’ and your hands stay connected with him, the air around you begins dancing in millions of small stars. 

“What’s happening?”

“We’re moving the stars, my love”, he whispers.

The stars form their own galaxies, starting from the stars on your ceiling and spreading around you in clouds. 

“Yoongi.”

“Don’t cry, my love.”

“We can do that?”

He nods his head with the love growing in his eyes.

“Yoongi”, you whimper, “I love you so much.”

“I love you just as much” he sighs, rubbing your hip in soothing as he wipes the tears from your cheeks. You haven’t noticed it yet, but the same markings glow under your skin. He loves you so very much that he paints more stars onto your shared galaxy until the very room is filled with them. 

“Keep moving like this. It feels so good”, he tells you.

“Oh god.” You shiver. “Yeah, it does. Wow, it does.”

You chase the warmth between your legs. For but a moment, you had forgotten what you and he were doing. The magical moment was just too wonderfully distracting. Now that he made you aware of it again, you can’t help but feel just a little overwhelmed from it. This is sex, but this is so much more. You are chasing pleasure, but you are also chasing so much more. This is true love and you are chasing the addictive feeling of making magic with the One.

The stars are endless in the room, purple nebulas have started to form around you and him. The glow of them paints his skin a slight purple, making you glow just as much. 

So this is what it feels like. This is what giving up control feels like to someone like you. It is warm. It is so intensely warm that you have to seek his comfort by hiding away in his neck.

“I love you so much, oh god”, you choke out.

“I love you too, my beloved witch”, he whispers. His voice is trembling, his breath is just a little uneven. 

Your hearts are racing, the parts where you touch are heated and damp. You deepen the contact by burying your hands in his hair. It feels even softer now that magic sets him aflame. He shudders and exhales shakily, meeting your movements with desperate rolls of his hips.

“Yoon- ah”, you squeak, curling your toes in electric pleasure. 

Yoongi answers you in a small whimper and his fingers dimpling your softest spots. His own face is nuzzled into your shoulder, his veins can barely handle the endless pleasure your warmth gives him. He feels home right now. Home and finally in harmony with himself. There are no dark voices in the back of his mind, no curse urging him on to rip you apart, no desires of violence getting stronger and stronger the deeper he falls into you. There is no darkness. Just galaxies of purple and melodies of endless love. He feels out of control, but it creates good in the world. 

Yoongi has never felt more in harmony with himself than he does right now. And he wants to share this harmony with you. He wants you to bask in the warmth and silence of it and give you the deep, magical pleasure he feels as it happens. 

He presses you a little closer to his stomach, basking in the moan you muffle in his neck. He rolls his hips into you, eliciting yet another moan from you. Again. He needs to make you feel as good as you make him feel.

And it all gets a little too much for you. The connection, his touch, the pressure on your clit and the warmth of having him inside. At all gets a little too much for you. 

“Yoongi, I’m cumming.”

“Let go, my love. Let go.”

Your high came sooner than he thought it would, but he doesn’t mind. He holds you through it, looking at the room with awe in his purple eyes. You make the stars dance in swirls and waves. 

“You’re beautiful, my little witch. Your magic’s so beautiful”, he sighs, squeezing you closer to him to really give you the best you ever had, “you’re so beautiful, my love. You’re…so…beautiful…”

You feel so free. This is the first thought you have. You feel so fucking free. He makes you feel so good and you don’t have to hold back on anything. The release of pressure, energy and magic brings you to fucking tears.

“I love you so much, Min Yoongi.”

“I love you…too- ah, I’m gonna cum”, he gets out, tugging at your hips, “sit up, I’m close.”

“Don’t hold back, please Yoongi let it happen”, you beg him, speeding up your hips.

“But- ah a-ha, but-”

You lift your head, spilling tears when you realise that the magic has also painted his hair purple. You know that you match his colour, that once again your connection became even more visible. And you never felt more certain about having him paint your walls than you do right now. Let him seal the connection. Let him make you his’.

“Let go, my beloved witch”, you whisper, cradling his cheeks as you dance your hips on him. It is a little difficult because he really ruined you with your high, but you want to do it for him. You want him to experience the same intense high as you did. He is your soulmate and he deserves to feel amazing. Yoongi is breathing heavier and heavier, letting out more and more little whimpers as his eyes just very slowly go out of focus.

“Let go please. I want to be yours”, you beg him, clenching around him.

“___”, Yoongi whimpers and breaks under you, rolling his eyes back and closing them because it all gets too much for him. The stars around you tremble and dance, his fingers dig deep into your softness as his seed covers your every inch, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Yoongi. I love you so much”, you choke out, helping him ride out his high and feeling so good that you make the stars dance just as much.

He falls down after his high, dragging you with him so he could hug you just as much as he tries to kiss you. You try to kiss him back, but both of you are so out of breath and you keep giggling and smiling that it’s difficult to find a rhythm. It makes the kiss so much more special because it is honest and it is real and in this moment, you and he carry your fucking feelings in every giggle and every shaky breath. You just did it. You sealed your connection. You let it happen and as you did, you created galaxies out of nothing. You lost control together until purple was all around you and flowing through your veins. You became one soul. 

The stars become less and less as you kiss until only the luminescent stickers on your ceiling glow in an ever fading purple. 

“Oh god Yoongi, we actually made galaxies.”

“I know. Holy fuck, I lost control and it didn’t make me violent.”

“I’m so happy for you, oh Yoongi”, you choke out, lifting your head so you could meet his eyes. His hair is black again, the glow under his skin stopped but his eyes were still a slight purple. Darker than before, but the remnants of strong magic still flicker in them. 

You touch his cheek, his neck, his hair.

“Your skin was glowing and, and your hair. Your hair was purple.”

“I know. You were the same.”

“We were the same. Yoongi, you and I are so right.”

“We are. Ah! Mhhhm”, he suddenly tenses up, scrunching his nose, “okay, don’t do that. My cock’s gonna fall off.”

“Huh? I just moved a little. You normally like that.”

“Yeah, not here. Uff, I’m so sensitive please get off.”

He makes you laugh, which makes slipping off a very whiny procedure for him.

“So I take it that your human cock can only go once?”

“Definitely yep, wow that hurt”, he says and rubs his cock soothingly, “my poor little wiener.”

“Yoongi”, you snort, “why would you call it like that, you silly bean?”

He laughs with boyish eyes, kicking his feet as he does it. He really makes you so happy that you have to throw yourself on your back and laugh just as much. 

You each drink some water after your laugh. You also each go to the toilet and clean up as best possible. You don’t bother to put on clothes, waiting for Yoongi to come back. He does so quickly, locking the door behind him and running to the bed.

“Kook and Tae are downstairs. I ran so fast. I was scared they’ll see my naked ass.”

“But you did it?”

“I hope”, he says and slips under the blanket. He wiggles around a bit, making cute sounds.

“Comfy?” you snicker fondly.

“Yeah, so warm”, he purrs and nuzzles into the pillow with a scrunch of his nose. 

You and he gaze at each other like this. He cups your cheek, tracing your skin slowly.

“My little witch”, he whispers.

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes halfway.

“I can’t believe you let me cum inside. What if something happens?”

“If it’s anyone, it’s you Min Yoongi.”

Seriousness washes over his features as the meaning of your words sink into him. He tries to speak calmly but his voice trembles.

“I don’t know what you see in me, but whatever it is, I’m so fucking glad that you do.”

“I see everything in you. My past, my present and my future.”

Yoongi pulls you close, hugging you against him.

“My beloved. Holy fuck, I love you”, he presses out, cradling you with such desperate love it feels as if he wanted to melt with you.

“I love you too, my beloved.”

[diminuel]

Ok back to the main stories.

All i can think about is the aftermath of Croco vs luffy.

I imagine when he was younger Ace got into an argument with croc or dragon and he tried to run away thinking they didn't want him anymore. Which upset luffy but que big hug session with everyone. And they tell ace and by extension luffy that even if they get mad at each other even if they fight that they will always love them.

So just after luffy takes the win he runs up to croco and gives him a kiss on the forehead and tells him he loves him before running off with his friends.

Epilogue: croco crying cause he is so proud of his strong little shit of a good son.

To a lesser extent very funny family fights when the kids are older and hitting those grumpy tween years where they all have yelling matches that end with them storming off before coming back a second later to shout "I LOVE YOU!" Then storming off again cause they still agny. Or instead if the "I HATE YOU!" Angst trope its "I LOVE YOU BUT YOUR SO FREAKIN ANNOYING LET ME LIVE MY LIFE!" Or something like that.

Strong silly family bond for the win

Ps if Ace still joins white beard i like to imagine him calling white beard grandpa instead of dad cause he is like i have a dad but you can be grampa cause my other one super irritating and i like you better

Pps white beard quietly adopting dragon as his son cause why not

(Too many ideas cause your so talented it cause idea landslide)

(I'm glad my silly AUs are inspiring you to come up with such ideas!!)

I do love the thought that they do always make sure to tell each other they love each other and that even if they find each other annoying at the moment, it's a thing that they'll get past.

I think that it might lead to tension when Ace starts questioning himself due to Roger's bloodline to be so reviled that it caused a lot of innocent people to die in the crusade to eradicate it. And maybe it doesn't matter how many times Dragon and Crocodile tell him that he is loved, he still struggles and that might lead to an argument that drives Ace away? Like he was most likely doing some sort of self-sabotage where he believed that he must be hated and that his parents secretly hate him too and that if he pushes enough they'll get angry and that will then be the proof that he is unlovable and shouldn't have been born. (;w;)

And now I'm thinking about the Alabasta fight. I can imagine Luffy, seeing Crocodile defeated, has a moment of terror and softy calls "I love you?" And Crocodile, even tough the hit was hard enough that he's hanging on to consciousness, says it back. Because if he can't Luffy can't go on.

And then when he's on the marine vessel on the way to prison he's so proud of his damn kid even though everything is falling apart around him.

Well, his son's out there and he's going to be great.

(And *lol* at Whitebeard hearing what a shitty dad Garp was and thinking "well, if you don't want him I'll take him". Not sure Crocodile would like that, whatever the history between them is *lol*)

[jo-harrington]

Standard Operating Procedures 1.06 (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie’s your boyfriend. Now what?

Previous Part: Disaster Preparedness

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. First Dates and silliness, Sickeningly sweet fluff, miscommunication (not in a bad way), sexual tension, smut, allusion to oral sex, PinV Sex

Note: Here we go guys, the penultimate installment of SMVerse. We only have the finale to go. It's been a wild ride, I'm both ready to move on and give my other stories their attention, and also a little bit loathe to let my babies go. They can always make their little appearances in one-shots in the future if I need them back.

Thank you to @deathbecomesthem and @courtingchaos for looking over a few little things. Your insight is always appreciated.

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

"Do I show up with flowers?"

"Flowers?"

"What's that voice, you don't like flowers?"

"Not really."

How you got to become friends with Steve Harrington, you couldn't tell for sure. One day, he was just a frantic customer running around in a Scoops Ahoy sailor uniform worrying about cherry chapstick, and then suddenly he was sitting in your store once a week looking for relationship advice.

Like today, as he tried to figure out plans to win back his ex.

Or something like that.

It was hard to tell with Steve. Oftentimes you got a half-finished story, as though you were some omniscient being that was supposed to know the other parts already. Sometimes he'd be an apt listener with the patience of a saint as you gave him whatever advice you could, and sometimes, he would go off on a one-sided tangent, and thank you for something that you didn't even know had come out of your mouth.

He reminded you of Jimmy a lot, which was why you were as patient with him as you were.

It was fine; it was a Thursday in January and the holidays were over, that meant the mall was dead. You'd hadn't had a single customer yet and a mountain of shipment to process. He could stay as long as he wanted, as long as he kept bringing cookies as payment.

"Everyone likes flowers," Steve argued skeptically after a moment of contemplation. "You're telling me Munson hasn't gotten you roses or something?"

Speak of the devil...

The shop bell rang, a chain rattled, and leather squeaked, and before you could answer, your boyfriend--you were still giddy referring to him like that in your head--himself chimed in.

"If I was a jealous man," he started with an exaggerated glare at Steve. "I would say you're here flirting with my girlfriend."

You rolled your eyes at his antics and crossed your arms over your chest, both Steve and your menial tasks forgotten momentarily, but you giggled nonetheless.

"What are you doing here?" you asked. "Don't you have school?"

"I came to ask you a very important question," Eddie smiled conspiratorially. "But imagine my surprise when someone else is sitting in my spot."

"It's not your spot. And I'm giving him advice."

"Again?"

"He's hopeless, apparently."

"I'm right here," Steve exclaimed and got to his feet, ready to leave. "I didn't come here to be made fun of. I actually need help."

You were about to deliver a snarky remark to your friend when Eddie held a hand out towards you and led Steve out of the store.

The shop bell rang again and you sighed, lamenting your conversion for the millionth time.

You'd just bully Eddie into buying something small.

After a short time, Eddie returned to the store and approached you with a smug smile on his face.

"What?" you asked.

"Oh, nothing," he replied nonchalantly. "Just playing Cupid, that's all."

"Look at you, hopeless romantic." You opened another box and gleefully picked up a little purple jewelry carding that proudly displayed fuzzy red heart studs. You held them up to Eddie's face and squinted one eye.

"What are you doing?"

"Valentine's Day is coming up," you explained. "Trying to see if my resident Cupid here would look cute in heart earrings."

He slapped your hand away and chuckled.

"You know I would," he teased and then fluttered his lashes at you coquettishly.

"Does that mean you're finally gonna let me pierce your ears?"

"Mmmm, does Claire's have a lobotomy option I could consider first? Maybe next time, sweetheart."

"I knew you hated needles," you shot him a teasing glare. "Alright, why did you skip school today? Spill. What is this very important question you wanted to ask me?"

Eddie shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket and rocked on the toes of his boots, then began pacing around nervously. Which made you nervous in turn.

"You know, you just mentioned Valentine's Day," he began. "And...actually yeah, they're starting to talk about a Valentine's dance at school. It's corny, they always do it. Paper hearts and cherry punch and sugar cookies and bad love songs.

“And the guys were asking if I was gonna ask you. Well, Henderson more than anyone. I think he has a crush on you if I'm being honest, even though he insists that he has a girlfriend in Salt Lake City, do you believe that? Little liar. Isn’t the whole bit that the fake girlfriend lives in Canad—”

"Eddie," you snapped him out of his tangent with a laugh, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach. "Are you asking me to the dance right now?"

Ok, a high school dance...wasn't exactly your idea of a good time but...the idea was a bit of a novelty. They didn't have dances like that at your very Catholic, very-all-girls high school. Even prom with the neighboring boys school was...modest dresses and suits and a nice dinner at a banquet hall. No real fun, no real dancing.

Last time you really even danced with someone was at a party Jen dragged you to and then you ended up in a heated makeout session that maybe went a little too far. And wasn't remarkable.

To go to a school dance with Eddie...that would be so sweet and fun. A do over for some non-existent or downright mediocre experiences.

"No, I'm not actually."

Never mind then.

"But it reminded me," he abruptly turned to face you. "That we haven't gone out on an actual date yet."

"Wh...Eddie what do you mean?" you scoffed. "Did you hit your head? We went out on Christmas Eve. Dinner at Benny's."

Eddie had picked you up for work with a thermos of hot coffee that day, you both worked until the mall closed, and then went straight to the diner. The jukebox played Christmas carols only and Ben had two special holiday prix fixe meals: a classic Pot Roast dinner and then one with a little more Benny’s flair—Christmas Dinner style omelettes, candied yam hash browns, and hot cocoa with peppermint whipped cream. You and Eddie ordered one of each and shared.

But you were both so tired that you didn't even talk; you just sat on the same side of the booth snuggled against each other, dozing off and picking at your food until Benny came to wake you both up when he was ready to close.

When Eddie dropped you back off at home, it started snowing right when you kissed goodbye. It was the perfect date.

"I've decided that it isn't our first date," he announced.

"And why is that?"

"Because we didn't even say anything but 'fuck that guy wanting to make a return on Christmas' and 'pass the salt.'"

"You also realize that we've been going out every Sunday since last..." you paused briefly to think back. "May? First week of June?"

"Those don't count either," he shook his head resolutely. "In fact those were specifically not dates."

Funny, that’s how you always thought of them too.

You were about to give in and agree, about to tell him "whatever you say Eddie." He did make a good point and it wasn't like he was calling your relationship off, he just wanted another chance at a first date. What was the harm in that?

But he beat you to the punch, suddenly nervous under your scrutiny.

"Listen, I know it's silly," he crossed his arms over his torso and shrugged. "I just...want to get it right. Make you dinner, see a movie, I know you just told Harrington you don't like flowers but...a bouquet of cookies or something?" He reached over and flicked the bag of cookies on the ear piercing station. "Make you a mixtape, I dunno."

"You made me a mixtape already, Ed."

"Yeah but I want to give you the kind of mixtape a guy makes for his girl."

You melted at his words and fought the smile that threatened to bloom on your lips and butterflies that suddenly fluttered in your stomach.

"And what's on that one that's not on the other one?" you teased, intentionally obtuse.

"You know...ballads and...sappy love songs and..." He froze and you watched as he flushed prettily. "You're making fun of me."

"It's really fun to do," you told him matter-of-factly.

Eddie ran a hand over his mouth and then looked around. He leaned back to glance out into the mall, and then faster than you could react, he ran right up to you, cupped your face in his hands and smooshed his lips to yours in a kiss. You dropped the jewelry you were holding and covered his hands with yours; you took two little steps to get as close to him as you could, and sighed as he broke away to continue pecking at your lips between his words.

"You're a menace." Peck. "You're a trickster." Peck. "And I'm picking you up for a real date." Peck. "Our official first date." Peck. "On Sunday."

You were joined together once again and he paid special attention to your lower lip, sucking on it in a way that made your spine tingle.

"Hmmm," you pulled away, trying to ignore the heat that was overtaking your body. You were still at work, after all. "Sunday huh? I thought Sundays didn't count."

"Well they count starting now." He stole another peck and then backed out of the store. "You have a great day, sweetheart. See you later."

---

Everyone teased you for your entire shift on Sunday.

Mindy was the first, having already unlocked the gate and counted up the registers for store open.

"Oh lookie here," she whistled. "Miss Lovebird is all dressed up for her date with the wannabe-rockstar."

You did a little spin and a pose for her; not dressed in your Seventeen Magazine best, but something a little more comfortable--still a dress, just a little more you--so you wouldn't have to frantically change for your date.

Chrissy offered to do your makeup on break and then confessed that she had a first date fast approaching too.

"No more Jason?" you asked, trying not to sound too hopeful as she swiped eyeshadow on.

"No, he was kind of..." she sighed. "He wasn't what I thought he'd be like as a boyfriend. I don't think I would've had the courage to end things and go after someone I really liked if I didn't work here though. I've...gained a lot of confidence since being here."

"I'm glad," you beamed at her.

Stacey even apologized for all the jokes she'd made about Eddie before she left at the end of her shift.

"I know I give him a lot of shit, but Munson's actually alright," she sniffed uncomfortably, as though complimenting him was something she was allergic to. "That thing he did at Christmas...the Santa thing? That was really sweet."

"Yeah it was."

Finally, 6pm rolled around and the gates closed. The rest of your team went home and you were left counting down the registers in anticipation as Mindy gave you a talk very reminiscent of the Birds and the Bees that your parents gave you once upon a time.

Before you knew it, Eddie was standing outside with his hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket, and you flashed him a quick "five" to let him know you wouldn't be long.

"Ok listen," Mindy got real close to you know, hand on your shoulder, lips close to your ear as she whispered. "If you guys wanna do the ol' Horizontal Tango tonight--"

"What are you 75?"

"--at the very least do it in a bed and not the back of his van, ok?"

"I swear to god," you mumbled under your breath.

"Invite him back to your place. Light a candle. Ambience. Make sure you have condoms."

"Melinda!"

She started cackling.

"I mean, I guess you don't have to have--

"Utter one more word and you're fired," you pointed at her threateningly.

Mindy immediately held her hands up innocently and then dragged her fingers across her lips like a zipper.

As you finished counting down the registers though, you wondered if you'd only shut her up because she was crossing a line...or if it was because she was actually really good at reading the secret expectations that you may or may not have had for this date.

It was just a first date, nothing was gonna happen. You could think about all of that next time. But…what if…

The store suddenly became unbearably warm.

Before long, the two of you ducked under the gate and Mindy simply waved goodbye while holding back her laughter as Eddie approached you.

"What was that?" he asked, thumbing over his shoulder at her. "Everything ok?"

"She thought she was being funny, but instead she's just an asshole," you explained, trying to laugh off the awkward conversation and illicit thoughts that still lingered in your mind.

"Ah," he nodded slowly, his eyes squinted for a moment and you swore you saw the gears turn in his head. "Yeah...Kyle did the same thing for me too. You remember when I found out the kids had a bet against us? Apparently the whole team had a secret bet going too.”

"And Kyle won?" you questioned eagerly, glad for a change of topic.

"No, Paulie. But P gave me a cut, thanked me for being such a stick in the mud and holding out as long as I did."

"How much?"

"Fifty bucks," he pulled a roll of bills from his pocket. "Gave it to me today and told me to take you someplace nice. Which was the plan anyway, if you were wondering."

The two of you stood there awkwardly for a second before Eddie cleared his throat.

"You look nice sweetheart," he said with a nervous smile.

"Thanks, so do you."

And he did.

He had his leather jacket over a fitted forest green henley, with ripped black jeans and boots. You'd never considered green to be such a favorable color on him, his usual outfits consisting of blacks and reds and the occasional blue, but it was dashing. Brought out the glowing warmth of his eyes, the tiny honeyed flecks that often got lost in chocolate depths.

"I, uh, have something for you," he announced, fishing something out of his pocket. "I didn't have time to do a new mixtape, so you'll have to take an IOU for it. This...might be a little cheesy... but...well, close your eyes."

You followed his instruction and felt him grab your hands and lift them up. He positioned them just so, and then left you standing there as he prepped whatever your gift was.

"It's not my usual thing," he muttered as he fumbled with what-sounded-like a rustle of paper. "But the guys helped me clean out the van--"

"You cleaned the van?" you scoffed. "For me? Eddie I've been in your van before."

"Hey listen," he suddenly sounded offended. "First date and such, you deserve the best."

"I like the clutter in your van," you told him truthfully.

"Listen, if I hadn't cleaned it out I would've never been able to gift you with this, the Mirror of Galadriel. Well it's more like a hand mirror. Hey no peeking!"

He continued telling you about the way Lucas and Will, crafty as they were, helped him make this little surprise during the break of their Friday night session of Hellfire.

"Apparently Sinclair's little sister and her friends make these for each other, and he's helped them. Which, ask me to paint minis for DnD any day; this shit was hard. There. Open your eyes now."

He slipped something over the tips of your fingers and when you opened them you found...

"A cootie catcher?" You asked with a laugh. "Eddie..."

You were about to ask what the deal was when you noticed it wasn't just a folded piece of paper littered with numbers and words, but taped and glued together with bits of familiar papers.

You brought it closer to your face for further inspection, flexing your fingers this way and that to see the bits folded inside.

Was that the logo from Pizzeria Uno? And...a movie ticket?

"Eddie...what...?"

"Ok, it's not just garbage," he assured you. "I know I don't really clean out my van that often. Shit, there was homework in there that I was supposed to turn in last year. No wonder I had to repeat again. But I guess I never realized that after our not-dates, I sort of left a few things in the glovebox or emptied my pockets in the back to throw out later.

"This...this is from our first outing for pizza. And when we went to see Day of the Dead. I cut up the order form when you paid the last installment on Sweetheart. And this? The menu from that one takeout place we ordered from? That night when...you know...before we went to Chicago? A-and a Chef Boyardee label. Y'know from that one time we ate dinner at your place? Well, actually, I don't think it's from that night.

"I-I know, I'm a walking contradiction," he concluded with a laugh. "I said that this was gonna be our first official date and here I am with a reminder of all the times we weren't dating but...I guess I figured...our times together as friends are just as important as any date. So now that...you're actually my girlfriend, I needed you to know you'll still always be my best friend too."

You felt your eyes water and your heart pound in your chest.

"Do you like it?" he asked nervously.

"It's only," you let out a watery laugh. "Only the best gift I've ever gotten."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Not even the Boston cassette I got you?"

"Not even that," you shook your head. "Seriously Eddie...it's perfect."

All you wanted in that moment right there was to kiss him.

And you would have, but the lights in the mall concourse dimmed, signaling customer hours were over and that everyone needed to leave.

"You ready?" he backed away from you and held his hand out, fingers wiggling and eager to twine with yours. You gladly took it, expecting to hold his hand as you walked out towards the employee lot, but he surprised you by twirling you in a circle. He spun you into him, tucked against his side, and draped his arm across your shoulder.

You were sure it was gonna be a perfect night. Again.

Because he was perfect.

---

Turns out the Cootie Catcher wasn't just a gift with little mementos of your friendship, it was the means of which the two of you would decide the fate of your date night.

"I'll pick first," he explained. "And then you pick next ok? You just gotta trust me on this."

Throughout the night you both picked numbers and pinched the corners of the cootie catcher back and forth, back and forth, until you came up with the next activity you would embark on.

"Dinner at...the Hideaway," you read the first outcome that had come up. "The Hideaway? I thought it was the Hideout."

"No, they're two different places," Eddie explained. "Damn, you've almost lived in Hawkins for a year now and you still don't know? I'm a really bad Welcome Committee."

Turns out the Hideaway was a sports bar on the outskirts of town. The bar itself was a little crowded with patrons drinking beers and watching football on the twin tv's that were mounted overhead, but there was a tiny little dining room off to the side that was practically empty.

As you scanned the menu, your eyes immediately caught a glimpse of The Wayne under the sandwich header.

"Wayne as in...Uncle Wayne?" you asked with a laugh, and Eddie couldn't have looked any prouder if he tried.

"Yup," he puffed out his chest. "Nothing amazing ever happens in Hawkins, but if you can guess the Super Bowl winner accurately at the beginning of the season for 5 years in a row, you get a sandwich named after you at a bar."

"Shut up," you laughed. "He did not."

"Swear on my mother's grave," Eddie leaned forward and challenged you.

You both ended up ordering the Wayne, and Eddie spent most of dinner telling you Wayne's Scientific Method to choosing the winners, and then the way the winning streak broke.

"He put twenty dollars in a pool at the plant," he explained. "Figured he'd been guessing right at the Hideaway for so long without getting anything more than a free dinner out of it, he might as well try to win a little cash. Turns out fate only meant for him to win a hearty chicken dinner and nothing more, so he didn't try to tempt the Gods again lest he incur their wrath."

The sandwich was delicious, the company even better. And you held hands across the table pretty much the entire time.

---

Back and forth, back and forth the cootie catcher went, and you groaned when you saw the outcome.

Bowling.

"I'm not good at it Eddie," you tried to persuade him to choose again. "I'm gonna embarrass myself."

"Too bad, I'm not good at it either. We'll both look like idiots together."

"I'm wearing a dress Eddie."

"This is our destiny!" He exclaimed with a tone of finality, hand on the gearshift to put the van into drive. "And before you try to fight me on it, I'll even let my chivalry take a hit and let you pay for the first round of beer."

Knowing that a win was a win, you agreed.

Reluctantly.

The Roane County Bowlarama was something out of a time capsule, though, and that in and of itself was a novelty. Casino carpet and funky modular chairs and a neon light that sat over the pristinely waxed hardwood lanes in a very kitschy style that proudly advertised the Bowlarama's foundation in 1960.

It certainly smelled like nostalgia in here.

Eddie went to get your shoes while you meandered to the little concessions counter to get two solo cups of cheap beer and a soft pretzel with plastic cheese for the two of you to share.

As you got your score cards written up, you confided in Eddie that the only time you'd ever been bowling was for a birthday party for a classmate when you were in the 7th grade.

He just laughed and told you it had been the same for him too.

He pointed down to one of the lanes where a family was happily bowling with their two small children.

"If you go over there, I'm sure you'll still see the dent in the floor where I dropped the ball," he whispered. "It was too heavy and I went to go bowl and it dropped out of my hand and almost cracked the hardwood. And I vowed never again."

"Then why did you put it on the Cootie Catcher?" you asked incredulously.

"Well, we've gotta look stupid in front of each other sometime, right?" he reasoned.

“As though we haven’t done that already.” You shook your head. "Eddie Munson, you are something else."

"I know." He bowed proudly and then went to take his turn.

At the end of ten frames, you turned in your scorecards and your shoes at the counter, all the while snickering as the attendant read out your abysmal scores.

You'd beaten Eddie, sure...but it wasn't hard to beat a zero.

Was he really that bad at bowling or had he let you win? You’d never know.

---

It had been a great night but it was getting late by the time you got back out to the van.

Normally, you wouldn't mind a longer Sunday night out with Eddie, even if you had work and he had school in the morning. Honestly, you couldn't quite give a shit if you were tired for a Monday morning call with your boss or to unpack shipment boxes.

Still, you stopped Eddie before he could fish the Cootie Catcher out of the cupholder on the console.

"What's wrong?" he frowned. "You getting tired? Too tired for a late night snack? I put Dairy Queen for ice cream and Bradley's for a mystery snack adventure as options."

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, trying to entice you into letting fate take you once again.

The thing was...ending the night wasn't really the thought on your mind. It had been a great night out, reminiscent of those few early Sunday nights, cruising around Hawkins and finding someplace new you hadn't been yet.

But part of the fun of some other not dates with Eddie were the times you got to spend alone. Even recently, as you started cuddling and making out on the couch or stealing kisses in the food court at the little table hidden closer to the JCPenney entrance while sharing cheese fries, it was the intimacy and closeness you cherished. Those times spent together were spent in a world just for the two of you.

And as the night went on and you came to that realization, Mindy's words echoed through your head: Horizontal Tango.

God, ok, that was not the way you wanted to think of it, but it did get your mind on that night. The last time things had started getting heated between the two of you, the night you thought everything had been ruined before you both realized that there were some actual feelings deeper than friendship there.

That had been...nice.

Sure you'd been high, but laughing and groping and kissing and grinding...

Yeah it was more fun to do all of that with someone than to take care of things on your own with your imagination or one of the bodice rippers you secretly bought at Waldenbooks at your disposal.

One of the bodice-rippers with a love interest that your brain had started to fill in with a certain metalhead that was your then-crush and now-boyfriend.

Suddenly the more you thought about it--actively thought about it--sitting here in the van with Eddie, surrounded by the scent of his cigarettes and his Old Spice cologne, having just had probably the best date you could ask for...you realized that you wanted more too. With him.

More than a quick fuck at a party or a romp on a couch.

You wanted Eddie.

First date be damned.

"Sweetheart?" Eddie pulled you from your thoughts. "We can call it if you want. If you're too tired to drive, I can take you home now and...I'll pick you up for work tomorrow before I go to class."

"Uh." You worried your bottom lip, at a loss for words, as your hand still gripped the top of his over the center console. He was being so kind, so chivalrous, so thoughtful with this whole date, all of these sweet plans...you didn’t want to undercut the effort he’d put in.

How did one just ask their boyfriend to have sex with them?

"Do you wanna have sex?"

The words escaped your mouth as though you were on autopilot, and both you and Eddie stared at each other dumbfounded as the question hung heavily between you.

Well that was one way to do it.

"Wha...whe...like? Here? Now?" He stared at you wide-eyed as he questioned. There was a beat and then he shook his head and stared down at your hands in silence.

What you wouldn't have given at that very moment to hear the thoughts that were clearly racing through his head, as he visibly tried to compute the situation you were both in.

You felt your chest get tighter and your heart raced.

See? First date, no fooling around. You should have trusted your instincts.

"I mean...yes,” Eddie finally blurted out. “But it wasn’t on the cootie catcher.”

It was silent for another moment, then you both broke down in hysterical laughter.

Unintelligible words were shared as you both relived the last few tense moments with intense clarity—basking in the silliness that could only be shared between the two of you—and then you both seemed to have a lightbulb moment. Eddie turned in his seat to grab something from the back of the van while you dug for something in your bag.

It was a race to see who could get there first, and Eddie won as he fell back into the driver's seat with a sharpie held in the air like his ultimate prized possession. You abandoned your own search and began carefully unfolding the cootie catcher and before long, on the inner most flaps, new adventures for the night were written.

Blizzards at DQ was soon scribbled out in favor of Your Place.

And Mystery Snacks from Bradley’s replaced by My Place.

Eddie started situating the fortune teller over the tips of his fingers when you grabbed his wrist.

“What if we don’t end up getting either place?” You asked a little stupidly.

“Well then I guess we’re gonna head to the civic center and play Boggle with Gareth’s mom and dad, Sweetheart,” he snarked. “Pick a number.”

Back and forth the cootie catcher went as you called out numbers.

Until Your Place sat proudly on display between you.

“Alright then,” Eddie placed the cootie catcher back into the cup holder and then clapped his hands. “Your place it is.”

---

For as bold as you both had been in the van, it was unexpectedly awkward when you got into your apartment.

It was a moment of being in a place you'd both been a hundred times together before, but the implication of why you were there made it difficult to simply begin.

You both ended up on the couch for a while, watching some late night reruns and sharing a pint of Rum Raisin until you were calm and comfortable enough to share tentative kisses and touches in front of the glow of the tv.

"This isn't..." Eddie chuckled when you found yourself horizontal on the couch and he kissed his way down your neck and across your décolletage. "This isn't like a porno."

You both broke down in laughter again and he admitted that that thought had been on his mind all night, along with the possibility that this would be waiting for the two of you at the end of the date.

"I had that thought," he continued once the laughter had subsided. "Last time we were like this. That's...do you remember I...god did I honk your boob?"

"You did," you remembered fondly, even though the outcome of that encounter was anything but a fond memory.

"I think that's why I did it," he ran a finger along the neckline of your dress, which caused goosebumps to erupt along your arms as you shivered with anticipation. "I don't need to be anything with you except myself. I don't have to be the...hot boyfriend or the hunky pizza guy or anything. I'm just me, and you're just you."

"You can't make me cry before we fuck," you told him matter-of-factly, and dragged him back up so you could kiss him again.

"Actually," he broke away again and his brows shot up into his bangs. "That's another kind of porno. We can add that to the list for next time ok?"

That set the pace and the expectation for the rest of the night: intimate moments punctuated by words and laughter.

There was no rush, so you took your time to explore one another's bodies. You moved from the couch to the bed and clothes came off one piece at a time, including socks which both of you agreed was the least seductive piece of clothing to remove.

"But I did read about this thing with tights once," you bit your lip in too-little-too-late realization, after you'd chucked your pantyhose into the corner of your bedroom. "It was kind of hot."

"I'm making notes," Eddie tapped his temple twice. "Don't worry. Next time."

And if you ever had the impression that Eddie was a bad student, all of that doubt vanished because he was incredibly studious when it came to your body. Both of you were as you licked and kissed and groped. You took the time to find spots that were sensitive or ticklish, that generated moans or giggles.

Boy, did you find out how much he liked to giggle.

You traced along the hazy ink of his tattoos with the tip of your tongue, in awe of the imagination that he'd put into each piece of artwork permanently etched on his body as he stammered out a brief story of each one. He told you about something he wanted along his ribcage, and when you went to kiss along the proposed path, he burst into a fit of laughter that almost rocketed him off the bed.

Soon there were more panting breaths than breathy laughter. As Eddie took his time worshipping you, committing every dip and curve and crease of you to memory--just like all the other things that he seemed to take note of--and the way you hiccuped and moaned as he lavished you with attention.

You both became teachers, showing one another just how you found pleasure alone--Eddie quick to admit that his solitary ministrations might have been done to the thought of you--before tonight. You were both happy to oblige each other's desires with your hands and mouths.

You quickly realized how much you liked the way that he stuttered your name as you suckled the head of his cock, and he seemed to take that as a challenge when he kissed and sucked your clit in return, the first partner you'd ever had to think to do so and not just fumble with zero thought or coordination.

"I'm a sex god," he boasted, chin resting smugly on your mound after you'd finished riding the crest of your first orgasm. "What can I say?"

"You're so full of it," you scoffed. "But you can say whatever you want if you just promise me you'll do that again."

"Oooh, gonna especially take note of that one," he said mischievously as he walked his fingers up the length of your body and then took your hand in his, both of you ready for the pièce de résistance of the night.

It was a lazy kind of fucking, even though the two of you were as wound up as you were; however, considering that you'd both had an entire day of work and then a lengthy date and foreplay, neither of you could complain.

You could have headboard-banging, heart rate-climbing, frenzied, nasty sex anytime you wanted for however long you'd be together.

"Hopefully forever," Eddie whispered against your mouth after you'd reassured him of just that, as he sank into you and realized that he was more comfortable in the cradle of your arms and thighs than stiffly knelt above you. "You promise?"

"Hopeless romantic," you muttered in return. You moaned as he slowly bucked into you and created a delicious drag of his fingers on your clit again. "But yeah, I promise."

There were very few words after that, just sounds. Pants and sighs and sucking kisses; a few swears as you both found the peaks of your pleasure, and finally an "is there any more of that ice cream" once Eddie collapsed beside you when it was all over.

You both couldn't help but brag how great it had all been come morning, when he drove you back to the mall for work.

Or when you showed up at his place the following night to do it all over again.

Next Chapter: Longevity

[itstheghostofmypast]

☆22.59☆

(College AU) Choi San x (f)Reader

Summary: Of course, they loved each other. He was obsessed with her. She, with him to some extent, but to recognise each other outside the four walls of their comfort was a 'no-no'. Perhaps because as much as they loved each other, who knew being academic rivals would be so problematic.

Genre: Hurt + Comfort

Rating: nc-17

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.9K

Est. Read Time: 13 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Banner: @cafekitsune

Epilogue: His Little Cowboy

"I'm so glad we're done with exams." He sighed, sitting down and rolling his shoudlers, before rubbing his neck and eying the food, then deciding to order another round.

"Mhmm... I was so glad to close all the tabs today. My laptop practically thanked me." Smiling, she leaned forward on her elbows, "Is this why we're having an expensive meal?"

Her words held no real malice, but an air of unease, she never liked how he'd casually spend like this, especially on her, she had done nothing to deserve this, and the constant reminder of how he'd always pay whenever it was pricey would nip at her self pride.

He paused to look at her before pouting, "No, I just wanted to treat my girl." Mumbling he moved the tray towards her, gesturing for her to start first, trying to ignore her lingering gaze, the eerie nostalgia setting in, he knew what she'd get like during exam season, extremely cynical and skeptical, to be honest he was no different- but they were finally free and perhaps he just wanted to enjoy a nice meal with her, no hidden intentions or ulterior motives, nothing to think about but each other.

"Then let's go dutch-"

"Not a chance." His abrupt words cut her off, for a split second his tone reverted back to the one she was used to, the tone he'd use back in the day, to snub her or out do her while answering, this tone was often accompanied by a scoff, the only gesture that would mildly indicate that this was but a fun little game, though she knew when the tone was all that would surface, he'd be serious, in no mood for negotiation. Fortunately,  he had barely ever used it with her, often in times of forcing her to do something good for herself, like to rest or to eat, but she'd seen him use the same tone with a few people, who were once her friends, he didn't know she was there, standing behind the wall, listening to him call out her so called friends, people who'd just use her for her work, leeching off her academics, knowing she'd be too tired to even argue or say no, or even too guilty when one of them would bring up how smart she was and that made her arrogant- she heard him that day, the crisp morning air wasn't as cold as his words,

"Your incompetence is a curse you should bear on your own. Don't drag others down in that pitiful hole of yours, especially her."

That day she had lost an entire circle of friends, at a point she wondered if it was even worth it, wondered why he even said that when a class ago he had called her 'a silly little girl' for arguing about what a Freudian slip was when she was clearly wrong, now here he was defending her honour? On the same day he had come to her, sitting next to her in the library and slipping her a coupon, initially she had thought he was insulting her- a typical bourgeoisie move, only to realise it was a coupon for a couple's meal, noticing him side eying her to read her expressions. She had turned to him, pointing at the coupon, herself and then him, and as wordlessly as she had spoken, he too nodded, pointing at himself, her and then the coupon. Something had begun to blossom between the two that day, a relationship both were too afraid to talk about, perhaps because of their on going rivalry since the beginning of their academic year, or the way they'd ignore each other until one would bother the other, or perhaps the fear of being questioned by the lingering gazes around the hallways,  the whispers the wind carried around the campus- wanting not to be part of the gust of wind, choosing to keep whatever this was hidden, a secret shared by just the two.

"I mean...I'd prefer you don't, I wanted to treat you," his argument coming out softer, as he nodded to the waiter who had entered the private section after knocking, to place another tray in front of them, "Just us and a nice meal...I haven't spent enough time with you....that's why." Clearing his throat , he avoided the way she studied him, eyes scanning each feature, every gesture, every breath he'd take, to be able to study his next more, to prepare herself. Truth be told he hated it when she'd do that, this was the first thing that irked him about her, and although he had always been gentle natured, this trait of hers would always have his ulterior ego surface, ready to claw her. It took him some time to realise that was just the face she'd make while thinking, not only at him but everyone, including her exam sheet. That did not mean that being together made it any easy for him, in fact, now he'd feel small when she'd look at him like that, he'd feel as if his sincerity was being questioned, it made him dislike himself, was he not clear enough? Was the choice of words not point to point? Maybe his tone was ooff-

"Oh...well you're right, I guess I am to blame for that, I kind of mentally blocked you out." Mumbling sheepishly she reached across the table to hold his hand, her the tips of her fingers caressing the back of his hand, noting how he visibly relaxed, "In my defense there's this annoying guy in class who thinks he's so smart-"

"Thinks?" With a scoff he laced their fingers together, leaning closer to the table to eye her, his frown morphing into his signature dimpled smile at the sound of her laughter, before he continued, adding onto the playful banter, "Last time I checked this guy beat you in the Moral Philosophy 101 quiz and assignment."

Shrugging in response she grabbed the chopsticks with her free hand, "Beginners luck. Also consequentialism sucks, you're just a utilitarian at heart, that's why you got lucky." With that verdict she began eating, earning a cackle in return, the atmosphere around them calming down once more, allowing her to relax, much to his pleasure. He had begged her to go out with him last week too, claiming that they were left with just one exam so they could relax a bit, though she had threatened to block him if he kept pestering her, which is why he had stopped spam texting her.

However, finally tonight, now that they were free he had earned the right to become her Sannie again, to roll around on her bed, messing with the sheets while she would be scrolling on her phone trying to ignore how his antics were toppling off her plushies to the floor. He'd be able to whine and complain when she'd wake him up early because the 'cafeteria is serving Yaki Udon',

"Go, they let you sneak some to your dorm, sneak some here"

"It's...6 am...let's just eat something else."

"If I had the rich boy privellage,  I'd go myself, but alas-"

"Are you really guilt tripping me for being rich?"

"No, my sweet nepo-baby I'm stating a mere fact."

"A nepo-baby would be a business major like his father, not a communication major-"

"And that's why you're my favourite boy, Sannie."

That day he got her four bowls of udon, even sneaking in the dessert Wooyoung had gotten for himself, and when asked he told Wooyoung he had eaten it, never mentioning her.

That was another issue, he had to keep his relationship a secret from his friends too, initially it was fun, the thrill and excitement would have him shivering with glee, but recently, after most of his friends now had a significant other whom they would publicly walk around with or show affection to, he had begun to wonder if she'd ever want that with him. Or were they just college sweethearts, soon to be forgotten, a bitter sweet memory plastered at the back of their minds, one to return to when times would get rough.

"What's wrong?"

Her question cutting off his thought process only for him to realise how he had just been staring at his food, while she was half way done. Clearing his throat he gave her a gentle smile, shaking his head before reaching for the soda, pouring both of them a glass. Maybe some other time, he'd ask her some other time, right now he could see how she was enjoying herself, he could see how comfortable she was with him, he had no real intentions of ruining the moment.

"Are you sure? You're making the same face you did, when you had to present last semester." Just like that he had lost all the love he had for her, no, he was dating a monster, a demon in the skin of an angel, the human embodiment of Godzilla. Eyes narrowing at her direction he scoffed, leaning back to take off his jacket, before responding with a taunt, "Says the person who forgot the meaning of utility while presenting".

With a gasp she placed her hand on her heart,  staring at him in faux shock, "You fiend, that's because I'm a Kant girlie at heart."

"So...you don't think the ends justify the means?" He asked cautiously, though not of her feelings, but of the risk of his own fragile heart, too afraid to let it slip out of her grasp and shatter.

"The ends, never justify the means, Sannie."  She smiled, staring at him only for it to drop when she noticed him frown at his plate, slowly nodding as he looked up at her, "Yeah...I guess..."

"What's...wrong, something has been bothering you since we came here." She sighed pushing her plate aside, watching him take out his buzzing phone, choosing to stare at the phone rather than him.

"Nothing."

His blunt response nipping at her insecurities, what did she do? Should she not have said that? Did she offend him? Was he going to leave her now? They were in their final year anyway, the time spent together was supposed to come to an end and as much as she wanted to cling onto the false hope of him somehow spending the rest of his life together with her, she knew that was but a wish, reality was far too bitter, far too grim, leaving the two to wonder when they'd become a distant memory.

"Okay."

There it was, his eyes flickered up to scan her face, that defeated look she'd hold when she'd give up, why would she never fight for him? Why didn't she pester him to finish his statement, why didn't she cling onto him, pulling him closer even though he knew he'd run to her at any given moment, he was only waiting for the signal, waiting for her to say the word. Maybe Wooyoung was right, this was just a fun arrangement for the two, a temporary one, which is why Hongjoong had asked him to confront her, but he didn't want to, yet, here he was by choosing to not confront her he had somehow made it worse.

Visibly flinching under his glare she averted her gaze, clearing her throat, playing with her fingers as she stared at her lap aimlessly, so what now?

"What about us?" His words a gentle whisper as he put his phone on the table beside his plate, hunching forward to get a better look at her face, "Does our end justify our means?"

Her head snapped up in his direction, the burning sensation of the flood of tears at the brink of falling, she could feel the fat droplets clinging to her lower lashes, chewing on her lower lip as she tried to compose herself, "Which end...Sannie, the one where we say goodbye?"

His frown only deepened at her question, taking in her shaking form, pinching himself as he tried ro remain rooted to his spot. Seonghwa had told him to listen to her, to comfort and console her because women need time to process and cope, especially someone like her, but then Hongjoong's persistent 'What if she really is with you for the ride',  kept bothering him, what if he were right, but at the back of his mind, this little voice was yelling at him, telling him how that was not true, how he'd seen her take care of him, how he'd felt her love for him; from when she'd slip in her extra notes in his bag for him to study to when she'd slip in a few packets of mint oreo in his bag as a treat. He knew they were more than just a fling, or at least he would like to believe that.

"Do you ... want us to?" His words as soft as the first time he had confessed to her, making her feel even more nauseous than before, though with a gulp she held it back before shaking her head and mumbling a, "No...do you?"

Shaking his head, much like her he sighed before staring aimlessly at her, "Then...why won't you fight for me?" This was less of a question, but more of a whine, a plea, one that had her finally snap.

Her sniff having him focus on her, watching her bring up her hands to cover her face, as she hunched over, making sure he couldn't see her cry, a trait that bothered him, he'd barely ever see her breakdown, even during the stressful exam season, she'd lock herself in the washroom and let it out, while he'd either wait outside the washroom (if he was lucky enough for her to let him into her dormroom) or like most exam seasons he'd be at his own dorm, trying to call her or text her.

"Why can't our end be happy?" He mumbled, finally choosing to get up and  walk around the table and to her, glad he had reserved a closed off private section. Sighing he reached for her, gently gripping her wrists as he pulled her hands off her face, ignoring her whines and protest, "Tell me, why do you think we can't have a happy end?" Pulling her up to wrap his arms around her, letting her fist his shirt, soaking it with her tears, sobbing out a, "Because our means of doing so aren't good."

Pulling her back he stared at her, gripping her shoulders, "What do you mean? Do you not want to keep it a secret anymore?"

"I never wanted to keep it a secret, at least I dont want to anymore." She mumbled trying to hide in his embrace once more but he pulled her back again, much to her disappointment as he tried to read her, "I just thought...your image and...I...maybe you didn't want to tell anyone."

By now he had sat her back down leaning against the table as he looked at her, holding onto her hand, his thumbs caressing the back of her hand, listening to her, raising his eyebrows, "No..." he sighed before gently smiling at her, "I've been dropping hints for a while now. My last hint was what led the guys to pick up on the fact that we are together."

So his friends knew?

"Do they think I'm weird?" She whispered, trying to pull away her hand but he held onto her tighter, shaking his head and letting out a laugh, "If anything they thought I tricked you into dating me...Wooyoung didn't even believe me until he saw our pictures." He smiled at her, the memory of his friends accusing him for lying, making it even funnier, "Yeosang said he could tell you're into dumb guys."

"Well, you are dumb. There's no doubt about that." She mumbled, standing up and moving closer, so she was standing between his legs. Cupping his face, she smiled when he glared at her. The eerie sensation that was once slithering in her veins long gone, "I don't remember a single hint, though."

"How?" He whined, pouting at her, leaning into her touch, closing his eyes as he basked in the attention,  the same attention he knew he would recieve publically from now on, there would be nothing holding them back, not her toxic friends, those who stared or whispered, in fact his friends would just support them, perhaps she needed such a support system too, would be good for her, "Yesterday after the exam I called you out, I said see you tomorrow babe."

"Thought that was a Freudian slip."

"Oh, so now you know what a Freudian slip is?" His eyes snapped open, brows furrowing at her smug expression, hissing when she squeezed his cheeks together, only to pull back when he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight until she was wheezing out apologies. Giving him a proper hug once he eased down on her, she sighed, pressing her forehead against his,"I really do like you, Sannie."

"I like you too." He smiled, feeling her brush her lips against his, whispering against her lips, only his next statement had him feeling her stiffen and possibly struggle against him but he held her tight, not wanting to be smacked, "They updated the marksheet, I scored higher than you in Moral Philosophy....again...sorry babe." Followed by his boisterous laughter and her whining to let him go, greatly ruining the moment.

A/N: I had to get this out of my system okay- my exams just finished. The next update ya'll will see will be of Meow Chapter 4

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