#edit: maybe part of it is also the lingering thought that no matter what happens a therapist can not help me with my number one issue

[seilon]

in the past I’ve always been more or less eager to talk to a therapist after just getting one but this time for whatever reason I just feel a weird sense of dread

[taones]

If You Can Hold On (2) - A.A, S.K, S.D

rewrite of the second part of the series (first part here and original series on my masterlist) enjoy <3

pairing ~ poly asadaisuga x gn!reader

warnings ~ pining, angst, Daichi sleeps shirtless bc c'mon now, reader is in the pool being sad but no mentions of drowning! not edited bc I'm lazy

Soft murmurs woke you from your restless sleep. After their last conversation, it had obviously been hard for you to get any good rest. The car rolled to a stop inside a motel car park, bathing you and its other occupants in the red sign light. 

“I went in but they only have one room so the four of us will have to share”

The disappointment in Daichi’s tone was palpable, like an arrow through your heart. You guys were best friends, you had obviously shared rooms and beds before. Why would it matter now? Ever since you had known them you had been comfortable sharing beds etc, even after they started dating. The fact it was different now obviously made you think back to the conversation you overheard. Maybe the person they were adding didn’t like you or they thought it would be inappropriate considering they were courting another person. 

You felt Asahi shift beside you and slammed your eyes shut once again. 

There was no way you were letting them know you were awake. If you had to face them before you fully calmed down, there was no question on if you would end up crying. Also you deeply did not want to give Asahi his hoodie back. There was a lingering feeling in your mind that you would never have an opportunity to steal it again. A sharp twinge of panic rocketed through your stomach at the thought. Of course, there was a chance their new s/o wouldn’t mind, but not many people were comfortable with their partner being that close to someone else. 

“It’s okay” Asahi soothed, “i’ll carry them”

Yeah, like you were going to let that happen. If any one of the three men touched you right now you were sure to burst into tears. Deciding that was the best time to break your facade, you pretended to stir. You hoped the red lights didn’t reflect on the glimmer of tears in your eyes. The cold, wet gravel seeped through the mesh of your shoes as the boys started leading you towards the room. No noise was made apart from the crunches under your feet - small victories, you mused to yourself. You adjusted your bags in your hand so you could grab the room key from Daichi’s hand. It was bronze in colour with a red plastic tag, slightly faded but you were able to make out the number 32 on the front. Locating the room, you were quick to pull away from the rest of the fatigued group, finding it easy to speed away from the sleep-addled men under the guise of dinding some comfort from the rain. Behind you, Daichi held his hand to his chest as if your hasty touch had scalded him. You chewed on your lip slightly, feeling bad at the upset you might have caused. Only hoping he would take it as you being tired, you shifted your gaze to the room door and marched on. 

-

The room itself was painted a gaudy yellow, with a brown patterned carpet that had obviously been unchanged since the motel itself was built. There was a large bed in the middle of the room, big enough for the four of you easily, but your eyes were driven to the sofa to the side of it. It was a loud red, sticking out sorely from the rest of the room. The harsh red was an assault on your retinas. How fitting, you thought to yourself. Scoffing, you laid your bags on the couch, pulling out some shorts and one of Koushi’s t-shirts to sleep in - rushing into the bathroom to change as soon as the other men walked in. 

Thinking you had escaped, you sighed and leant against the door. Only to hear the voices of the three men loud and clear. The thought of escaping out of the tiny bathroom window became suddenly very tempting. 

“I wonder what’s wrong with y/n” Koushi asked, seemingly dismissive.

“I’m sure we’ll find out soon, they don’t hide anything from us” 

You scoffed again under your breath, if only they knew. Still, you couldn;t fault Daichi for comforting his partner. 

“Wait look what I took the other day Suga, it’ll cheer you up”

You heard Azumane pull out his phone and then a resounding ‘aww’ from the grey haired man.

“I wish we could ask them to join us sooner but we have to wait till we’re back huh?” Suga lamented, “wish this trip could be over already” 

Ouch, that one hurt.

He was obviously showing a photo of this mystery person. You really didn’t understand why they hadn’t told you yet. It wasn’t like they could predict your horrible reaction, or that they even knew about your feelings. It made the doubtful pit in your stomach grow and twist, pulling you into a nauseous state. If they really wanted this to be over so soon after it began, there was really no point in you staying. They were obviously preoccupied with this other person - it was like you were never even there to begin with. 

A knock on the bathroom door made you jolt. Reluctantly, you peered at yourself in the dirty mirror and cringed at the sight. There were tear tracks dried onto your skin and your eyes were rimmed with an irritated colour. The sadness couldn’t be more obvious. Hastily, you rinsed your face in the sink, patting it down with your t-shirt. Taking a moment to breath and calm yourself, you turned the door knob. 

Daichi’s concerned face met you on the other side. Well, there goes being inconspicuous. You shot him what you hoped was a reassuring grin and pushed past his shoulder slightly. It was obvious he wanted to say something to you, but he stayed silent. They all watched you hastily grab a blanket off of the end of the bed and reach for the door. Not looking back you called behind you.

“I’ll be right back i just have to, uh, make a call so don’t wait up”

Well done, very convincing, you mused as you shut the door behind you. 

The gravel once again let the damp seep into you. Cold air prickled the skin on your legs while you walked towards your destination. Like all good motels, there was a pool a little bit away from your room, cold and full of rain water from the earlier weather, but it was a welcomed solace from the suffocating presence of the room. It was dimly lit but had no cover, so you assumed nobody would yell at you for using it. The water was surprisingly clear and cold from the earlier rain. Perfect for you to dangle your legs in while you waited there. Rain always calmed you when your thoughts were racing and you assumed the pool would work the same way. Relationships and people might change to you but water, the feeling of it moving over your skin, that would always be the same. 

You thought back to one of your earliest memories with all three of the boys, after you had come to the realisation you were hopelessly in love with all three. It was during first year, towards the end of the summer months, when the leaves had begun to tinge into soft yellows and deep reds. The rain had started pouring that day unexpectedly, breaking through the muggy weather that the last three months had left behind. The icy cold raindrops were a welcome feeling on your heated skin. All three of you had ran from volleyball practice to the courtyard outside, spreading your arms towards the sky like uniform-donned angels - thanking the sky for it’s gift. Of course, you had all got soaked but you smiled even after you had all separated to walk home. 

Simpler times, you thought to yourself sarcastically. The feelings had been so new and exciting at the time, hardly the depressing lingering in the back of your mind as it had been recently. There had come a time in school, you’re not sure when, where you had sort of accepted it would never happen and promptly gave up. Whether this was before or after the three announced their relationship, you had forgotten. Not that it mattered either way. 

Reflections in the water rippled when you dipped your legs into the surface. You stared as your reflection was distorted, mussed about in the small waves. The water settled once again and you were left with the cold, hard truth of the image you had become. Your rimmed eyes and tear tracks seemed to only accentuate the already exhausted look on your face. It was as if you hadn’t slept in weeks. Suga liked describing the sparkle in your eyes when you got excited about something - apparently it reminded him of a snowglobe or something, whatever he had said. You sighed, meeting your own eyes in the water. They were empty of any sparkle. 

You swished your legs around the water again, a weight lifting off your shoulders as your face was contorted once again by the waves. 

A ringtone rang out from next to you and you scrambled to shut it off. Bringing the phone up to your ear, you were met with the soothing (if not minorly monotone) voice of your club manager and best friend. 

“Hello?” you sniffed into the receiver. 

Luckily for you, Kiyoko had escaped your seemingly never ending list of crushes. She had been a fast friend when you had met and, luckily for her, she was currently driving somewhere around the Japanese countryside with her girlfriend. 

The dark-haired girl was also one of the only people in the world that knew your secret. Which was most likely the reason for her phoning. 

“How are you holding up y/n?”

You scoffed. 

“As good as i can i suppose” you joked, shoulders tensing at the lack of response. 

“Okay, i’m doing horribly, i swear they’re doing it on purpose”

She hummed, never one for many words. 

“Did you know they wanted to add another person to their relationship? They won’t talk about it when they think i’m awake but i caught them in the car. They seem so,  so excited and i hate that i can’t just be happy for them”

Gnawing on your lip, you waited for a response.

“Do you need  us to come pick you up?” she questioned, almost hesitantly. 

You stopped and thought about it. Was it the best idea for you to stay? There was a feeling poking at the back of your brain that this trip would go horribly wrong but you weren’t too sure it would be the best idea to leave either. There was no real excuse you could give the boys and you had been planning this for a while. Chewing on your thumbnail, you made a choice. 

“I don’t think you need to get me” you began, “i’ll see how it goes but, uh, be on standby i guess”

A melodic hum rang from down the phone. You weren’t sure what it’s inflection was. 

The call ended quite quickly after that. It was expected, the hour was late and Kiyoko definitely had better things to do than audibly observing her friend having a breakdown. It would be a lie to say you didn’t sound as pathetic as you looked. The rain had started falling again towards the end of your conversation so you had stuffed your phone in your pocket and hugged the worn blanket tighter around your bare arms. 

You had failed to see a shock of cropped, brunette hair disappearing behind your room door.

The cold rain drizzled down your scalp and down your neck, leaving goosebumps in it’s wake. The rain seemed to peel some of the pressure of of your shoulders. It gave you something to focus on so that you didn’t have to think so hard for a while. Quieting the thoughts spinning round your head like whirlpools. Closing your eyes, you laid back on the wet tile and imagined spinning your hands around in the frigid water, creating your own whirlpools. Ones so powerful you could jump right in and they would suck you away from the motel - to wherever you wanted to go. Maybe you could stay underwater for a while, away from everyone. Kiyoko was a strong swimmer, she could bring you food and company. Maybe you could make some less complicated friends with the fish and little crabs that lived on the seafloor. 

When you peeled open your wet eyelids, your reality confronted you like a slap to the face. The motel was still the motel, and the pool's surface remained unchanged. 

“y/n!” yelled a voice from behind you. 

Rolling your eyes, you peered up from between your lashes. Suga had run out of the room, holding one of his partners' jackets above him in a mockery of a shelter from the rain. You would think he would have the sensibility to choose a waterproof one. 

His shoulders were drawn close to his body under his knitted cardigan, silvery brows drawn close to each other. There wasn’t much exchanged between the two of you but the worry on his features was hard to miss. You suppose you did look somewhat like a corpse at the time. Even worse - a cold, damp one. Even now, you looked back up towards the sky and snorted at your own silliness, as if they were even thinking about that. 

-

Asahi looked at the exchange from the winder, choosing to accompany his boyfriend outside when he saw your body twist and return to its previous position. Being one of the more sensibly dressed of your group - he grabbed a parka and headed out next to the shorter man, perching his chin on Suga’s shoulder. 

“I wish i knew what was going on in their head sometimes” Asahi commented from next to Koushi’s ear. 

His voice was soft enough and they were far enough away that you couldn’t hear them. In all fairness, without facing them anyone would have been completely unaware that they were talking. They both observed your sodden state, noticing your eyelids fluttering closed as you slipped off to sleep. 

“I would love to know how on earth they can sleep in this weather” Koushi commented dryly, “they’re going to catch their death because of the damn rain one of these days”

The brunette chuckled, wrapping his arms around his lover’s waist. Asahi had a comforting effect on almost anyone that truly knew him. A real gentle giant, his presence had the ability to both command attention and become a bean of solace for anyone that needed it. It was hard not to feel comfortable around Asahi Azumane. Something his boyfriend could attest to enthusiastically as his shoulders finally withdrew from next to his ears.

“They seemed happier out here in the rain than they have on the entire trip so far”

If he hadn’t been right next to his jaw, there is no way the taller man would’ve heard Koushi’s bitter muttering. And some part of him wished he didn’t, because then he wouldn't have to face the fact that his statement was entirely true. Even now, as you drifted off into sleep, the smile that had been missing the entire trip had somewhat returned to your face. It was refreshing to see but the two men only wished they had been the cause, not a weather pattern. The lines of your body were less harsh, less bunched up into each other. Your limbs hung loose on the tiles and the water instead of coiling and wrapping around each other like fishing line - the desperate attempt to make yourself smaller had not gone unnoticed by your companions. 

Asahi bit his lip. 

“We should get them inside” came the sleep-addled voice of their third and final partner. 

Daichi was dressed the least sensibly of all of them, only wearing a pair of chequered pyjama pants. Of course, as he was leaning in the doorway and not actually outside, there was no need for much else. A flower of guilt had bloomed in the pit of his stomach at overhearing the other two’s conversation. Your behavior had not gone unnoticed by him, but he had initially assumed you were just tired. It was overtly obvious to him now that something was very wrong. 

The three men trudged the small distance to your snoozing figure, not caring much if they got soaked. Daichi sat you up next to the pool as the other two worked on drying your chlorine-coated legs. The coarse fabric of the towels did little to disturb your slumber, only causing your knees to draw up to your chest and a small hum to escape your parted lips. The gaze of the shorter brunette man would probably have burnt holes in your skin had you been awake at the time. However, the contentment of your slumber went undisturbed and you turned your face into his bare chest, snuggling into it. 

part two is up! i've already finished part three so I will hopefully post that tomorrow <3 reblogs and comments are always appreciated, stay sexy!

[skayafair]

Ep 35-36

Wait, hold on. Do I understand it correctly that J is technically not dead but has just... completed the transformation and had to stay there? And Alyx is changing the same way now? So they can maybe at least be there together in the end? Tough luck, I know.

But damn Beckett! This bastard! >:(((

Cass and Silas, when they get the err relationship bits, make me blush like no other pairing or media ever has. I don't know why but it just feels so personal and real? Gods this podcast is superb in acting and editing. And writing.

I really like Lizzy in the past 2 episodes. She's very relatable and feels fully fleshed now. Also I need someone to give her a good supportive hug. To all of them, really, but to her especially.

I don't want to think of what happened to Allura and how everyone starting with Silas are going to react when the 1st shock is gone. Oh gods.

The gods are pissing me off, by the way, no news here. I half-wish them to turn out to be some kind of an AI because I love the "ancient advanced technologies" trope but we'll see.

I like how emotional and emotionally unhinged these episodes are. Podcasts really don't hold back do they... It's been very difficult to listen to ep 36. It's just... scary and heavy, but not in a horror way. Just in a life way. The worst (meaning the heaviest) part was the call to Silas' mom. I just couldn't believe he'd actually go and do this RIGHT AWAY. FFS! What?! Couldn't wait for a few days?? Or was it planned to announce them all dead all along?

Another thing I really like about Syntax is that the team members are slowly losing their composure the farther they go. Usually in plots like this the characters manage somehow (if the writers even care to make this a point at all) or seem to be just emotionally tough enough to bear basically anything. Team Alpha breaks down little by little until they start doing... dangerous things. They acknowledge they're at the end of their ropes but have no choice but to go forward. Plus before this last breach their situation wasn't as dire. This world seems to be willing to kill them with all it's got. And they aren't coping anymore. I like seeing this narative-wise - it makes them feel like actual living people, not heroes who stay sane no matter what because the story must go on.

I half-wish there was a happy ending where they get everyone they've lost back somehow. Aren't there gods? I thought Lizzy was going to fall and nearly started crying from how scared I was. It seems that since I've got my emotions back a year ago everything that touches my heart gets through with full force with no filter normal people have to not worry for characters as much as in real situations. Oh well. I'll ascribe that to great acting. But I also feel this isn't that kind of a story. It's not even about the deaths losing their impact - as someone who hates and fears this topic altogether I'd say no death can be made meaningless by coming back to life, because life is priceless no matter how one looks at it. No. It's just... they aren't coming back. And that's really grim. Usually I drop such stories because... really, I have enough grim and dark things irl. And just like most shows for the last few decades, it keeps getting darker. I seek solace and escape in stories. Others' suffering doesn't make me feel better - it adds to the one here, irl. But also... there's some kind of hope that still lingers in Syntax? And I've already got too attached to the characters to drop it. I hope it won't fail me like this. That there's some... point or meaning at the end of this road, that all they went through wasn't for nothing. Although I don't even know what this would mean now.

Well. I know the story is good when I can't drop it even despite all the triggers. It's just pity it started as a feel good series with mostly just adventures and exploring and went on like this for 2 seasons, and now I postpone listening to it because I need to pull myself together to face what's going on there. I guess I can still relisten to those 2 seasons as a feel good thing though 😅

[dallasareaopinion]

Trying to get a grasp on what you are doing

Okay they are just staring at me, all lined up, row after row, maybe hundreds of them. What are their expectations? I stand there frozen not reacting. What am I to do? Then the better half hits me on the shoulder and says pick a bag and let’s get going. Indecision over a bag of chips in the grocery store is never a good thing, yet they all call to you, some kind of sinister plot to waste us away. 

As you know I write here to empty the synopsis of clogged up madness. Insanity spews forth like a water pipe leak somewhere in the house. You hear the water running yet you cannot pinpoint exactly where is the leak. And it just keeps on going, so does this blog. It takes a plumber to find the leak, who knows what it will take to completely clear the gray matter.

And I really don’t worry about the end product, it is for you to figure out. Which leads me to a point that I understand when I write, yet many times I never take into consideration. You may have read that I say, an editor is worth their weight in gold, but there is also another aspect of writing well and many times the editor helps achieve this goal, but sometimes it takes the ability to accept critique from many different sources.

For example, if you are trying to write something for work, what you know can get in the way of what you are writing. Everything you write makes sense to you, but how much does the reader glean from what you are saying. So a co worker is beneficial in this situation. They know the work, but their reading and feedback can make sure the message is conveyed well. 

When you read what you write, you never see what the reader is missing. It makes sense to you because the point you are making is solidified in your head. How the words on paper are coming across may be a completely different story. God only knows how I passed a written exam in school when you realize the words on paper probably didn't come across they way I thought they did. 

And for some strange reason that thought has been crawling around in my head the last few days. I am not sure why. At first I thought it was because I had written something  and gave to someone to read for feedback. Of course ego always hinders progress, hard to have someone discuss what you did because half the time you are thinking, why don’t you get it, I know what I am saying. And yet this thought keeps lingering somewhere not so deep in the neurons trying to connect and touches the consciousness at times. 

And no one is reading this in advance so as always dear reader you are forced upon to understand this water leak of thought coming at you. The persistence of this thought process has been strong enough to create this post, yet I really do not have an answer or point. I am stuck with this nagging thought creature that will not away.

There may be a milieu of writers that understand this constant peck at the forefront of the mind, but who knows. Great writers employ the ability to make sure the reader is at the forefront of what they produce. They have the skill or the understanding to make sure the words that eventually comes forth are expressed so the reader has the clear understanding of their point. Seems like common sense to say this, but so many writers including myself struggle with this end result. I for the most part do not spend inordinate amounts of time editing this blog, or asking for help. I write, I move on.

And maybe I am realizing this is a disservice to you the reader. If you take the time to read, you are taking the time to try to understand and appreciate what is attempted to be said. I should make the effort to make my points clear and concise. Yet, I do not see that happening as an ongoing endeavor. 

I do thank you for your patience and I know there are some that read through my posts on occasions so hopefully that is because at least some ideas are running through the water pipes and are coming out at the right end destination instead of leaking out of the house.

Anyway whether posting this dribble helps to alleviate the recent drip on my brain we will see. Otherwise maybe it might force me to make a better effort.

Cheers 

[thekadster]

cliquetober day 31: double-sided (a twenty one pilots drabble)

Fandom: Twenty One Pilots

Word Count: 505

Trigger Warnings: None!

Author’s Notes: My final writing for Cliquetober! This was the one I spent the most time editing so far, I couldn't get the pacing/order of paragraphs right KJDFSGHFG

Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy :D

❝ It was another night at the Bandito camps.

Tyler simply wanted to go home, but he was never really sure where it was, what it was.❞

also read it on ao3!

The moon shone down on it all.

It was another night at the Bandito camps. People were still chatting amongst themselves, though most had already gone to bed. A cool breeze carried the chirping of crickets, gently swaying the trees and grass in its wake.

Tyler couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t unusual; nighttime meant silence, and silence meant space for all sorts of thoughts to creep in. He would normally distract himself however he could, and if that wasn’t possible, simply wait it out until morning. It happened in Dema more than anywhere else, its cold concrete walls and neon lights suffocating him.

But he wasn’t there tonight. Right now, he was in Trench, lying by the fire with Josh, Jason, and Ned. The four of them leaned on Trash, who was fast asleep. 

They were far from the city, but a sinking feeling always lingered. The torches and campfires burned bright, but they could never exist without the shadows that shifted just outside of reach. Part of him feared that, if he stared into the darkness for long enough, he would see a robed figure watching in the distance. He dreaded the thought that, no matter how far they’d travel, the Bishops would always catch up to them. That they would never truly be free from this cruel game of dog and rabbit.

Tyler simply wanted to go home, but he was never really sure where it was, what it was.

Maybe it was Slowtown, though he sometimes doubted if they’d ever make it there. The Banditos had long hoped for a soft place to land on the other side of the mountains, but their journey was far from easy. They’d already lost many of their own to the wild terrain and fickle weather, among the other threats that came their way.

But deep down, somehow someway, he knew it wouldn’t be like this forever. Until their journey would come to an end, they wouldn’t have to be afraid. The night and its shadows would always be there, but the sun would rise every morning, and they would be free to try again. It was a strange but necessary duality that made the world go round, that made life go on.

And, even now, he realized he’d already seen semblances of the home they’d been searching for. It was shared meals and conversations and coat-pocket carnations. It was gerbera daisies, poetry, and laughter. It was braving through the blistering heat and the freezing cold. It was the songs they sang, and most importantly, the people they sang them with. It was in the warmth of his friends’ eyes, and the yellow tape that held everyone together.

Slowtown was something they all looked forward to, but for now, Trench would have to suffice. And, as Tyler softly plucked the strings of his ukulele and lied on his back under the stars, it did. He wasn’t where he wanted to be, but he was where he needed to be.

He was already home, and that was enough.

[hansolmates]

distance learning (m)

banner done by the beautiful @eerieedits​

summary; after their first hookup, jungkook isn’t so sure whether you’re serious about being exclusive. after all, people say things during sex. jungkook takes it in his own hands to figure out where you stand, and he realizes soon enough that eavesdropping is a bad habit pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, crack, insecure!jk, unresolved sexual tension, stressed!mc, this is really just unnecessary drama bc drama is fun™, sexting, dom kook’s still a meanie in control, posession kink, cock slapping, a blowjob, cockwarming, unprotected, creampie, squirting, (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) and of course the excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 6.1k a/n; haaaaaa three months later im finally posting pt 2! i figured that no matter how many times i edit/reread at this point i think it’s time to finally let this beast go!!! enjoyyy click here for part 1: remote learning drabbles; 01

if you enjoy this, please considering giving our pasta couple a like n’share💚

It’s been a week since the thing.

The remote-controlled vibrator thing. 

The whole sappy-love-confesion-during-sex thing. 

Jungkook is antsy, tail tucked in, perpetually wondering whether he went too far. You seemed to like it, and Jungkook definitely loved it. It was spicy and dirty and hot, and at the same time Jungkook thought he really made progress in expressing his feelings for you. Not only that, you said you liked him back!

At least, he thought you did. 

“I really said I’d feed her lasagna and cum in the same sentence,” Jungkook bemoans into his pillow, which still lingers faintly of your Redken shampoo. “I’m disgusting. She thinks I’m disgusting.” 

People say things during sex, Jungkook knows that. In the throes of passion and pleasure, people will say anything that comes to their mind, anything that fits the mood. Of course, you’d be tied in and say you like him back. But did you like him back as a friend? As a fuckbuddy? As something more? 

“Fucking text her,” Taehyung is tired of Jungkook’s wallowing, everytime he checks in on the app developer he’s brooding in one of three places. Today’s his bedroom. Taehyung dips under the blankets, and steals Jungkook’s pillow right under his nose.

Jungkook suppresses a whimper, face melding into the blankets. Now that pillow is going to smell like Taehyung.

“Text her what,” Jungkook replies despondently. 

“I don’t know, something along the lines of ‘I wanna follow through with my proposition of feeding you my cum and lasagna—not simultaneously. Wanna go on a date this weekend?’ It’s that simple,” Taehyung gets up in Jungkook’s face, dark eyes forcing him to bore right in. “Want me to do it for you?” 

“Noo, I’m an adult I can—”

“I did it for you.” 

Jungkook nearly knocks into Taehyung’s hard head, sitting up straight when he notices his phone behind his roommate’s back. This is what he gets for sharing passwords. Thankfully, the message is cleaner than Taehyung’s words, and you’ve already replied. 

[1:23] Jungkook: would you like to go out for dinner this weekend? pasta and wine?

[1:25] You: it’s a busy week this week 🥺 raincheck? 

“Was the sex that bad?” Taehyung frowns, reading the message twice. 

“N-no,” Jungkook is sweating. He isn’t sure anymore. 

Taehyung hands Jungkook back his phone, slowly, as if you’ll reply back with a change of your mind. Jungkook is a deflated balloon on his bed, feeling like a bum in his ratty sweater and a dateless weekend. 

“It’s just that,” Taehyung puts a hand on his lip, mulling, “busy people don’t reply that fast. Like even if she wasn’t busy, there’s a fifteen-minute leeway before replying.” 

This silly rule overrides Jungkook’s mind for the rest of the week. 

The gyms have been reopened for months, and Jungkook’s trainer misses him dearly. Jungkook meets with Saeroyi in the morning, eager to get a few jabs in with some fresh equipment. He tries to move on, distract himself with a couple of pumps and a match with Saeroyi. It feels great to sweat it off, but it doesn’t help sway Jungkook’s incessant thoughts. 

The ball is in your court now, Jungkook has nothing to do but wait. Some people are just bad texters, maybe you just happened to have your phone near you when Taehyung sent the message. Maybe you just wanted to cut Jungkook off as quickly as possible so you decided to reply fast and rip the band-aid. 

No, you’re definitely not that cold-hearted. 

Re-entering his apartment complex, his eyes linger towards where your room lies on the first floor. It’s all the way at the end of the hallway, and he’s tempted to just confront you and make sure that what you and him really had is indeed, over. Conversely, you could just really be having a bad week and you genuinely do want a raincheck. 

Jungkook’s eyes trail to his form. Still in his gym clothes, and a little sweaty from the travel time. If he gets caught, he can just tell you he’s doing a cooldown by running across the hallways. Not the first time it’s happened, afterall it led him to you at one point. 

He breaks into a soft jog, making a beeline to your front door. His feet squish against your old welcome mat. You haven’t changed it since Halloween, and he smiles fondly at the black scripted “Boo Y’all” written in script next to a chibi-ghost. 

His heart beats faster as his hand lingers by the door, ready to knock. Deep breaths. Who knows, he could just be overthinking (like usual.) 

“Fuck, Hobi!” 

Jungkook freezes, his knuckles a centimeter away from your door. He backs up as if he’s been burned. His heart has fallen all the way down to his ass, and intends to stay there because now he feels like a damn fool. 

The bed is creaking relentlessly, a rhythmic pattern that has Jungkook’s face crumbling at every spring. Jungkook’s face hovers over the door, his ear brushing against the wood. 

“C’mon, bunny,” the male voice is teasing, “you know you love having me over. It would satisfy both of us if you’d just let it go.” 

Bunny. A cute pet name, for sure. The way it rolls off the stranger’s tongue is natural, as if he’s been saying it for years. But what about being his doll, is that not good enough? 

You’re huffy, taking deep breaths. He doesn’t want to hear anymore. Jungkook has put himself through enough self-wallowing for the week. What if he was just a stepping stone to meeting new people that will satisfy you better? What if you just needed one good orgasm to get your flow back, and Jungkook’s job is done? Sure, there were no strings attached when he proposed to have sex with you, but he thought… 

No more thinking. Jungkook jogs away from the door, even going so far is to jog all the way up to the penthouse. 

He hates this. 

You hate this. 

It’s been five days since Hoseok’s arrival, and you are going bonkers. Why couldn’t he get a hotel or an AirBnB? Because he’s cheap as fuck, that’s why. Your dinky cousin has been clinging to you like a lonely koala, and while you found it cute in the 5th grade, it doesn’t translate well nearly two decades later. 

Every morning is the same. You make a subpar toast and Nutella breakfast, letting Hoseok’s slices go cold as you log in for work. You’ve been clocking in earlier in the hopes to finish the majority of your tasks before Hoseok wakes up, because by then you can barely function. Once he wakes up, he’s relentless, bouncing on the bed and talking your head off while you try to concentrate on whatever your boss is telling you. Whenever he jumps too hard, your cheap mattress causes your laptop to fly, and the only thing you can do is curse him out. Sometimes he plays Disney movies and sings in tandem, choreography and all. 

You know that Hoseok is stressed and this is his outlet, and you don’t have it in you to stop his incessant habits. He’s visiting your area because of a lucrative job offer nearby and the interviews are sporadic, making Hoseok linger in your apartment for hours at a time until he’s summoned for whatever test they want to throw at him. 

Most of the interviews are in the evening, and it’s when you can clock back in and finish your leftover assignments while Hoseok is also working. By the time he returns, you’re dog tired and so is he. 

Every night, you try to move away from Hoseok’s clingy self, as he grapples onto your waist and slings a thigh over your belly. You wish it were someone else sharing the bed with you. 

If you bring Jungkook into the picture however, you’d be burnt for the week. Complete crumbs. It would be too much stimulation for you, having to balance work, Hoseok’s incessant attitude, and putting on a face for Jungkook. Your relationship with the penthouse neighbor is barely budding, hardly watered considering Hoseok’s sudden visit. You cling to the fact that in a couple days you would be giving your undivided attention to Jungkook, most of your priorities out of the way, and most importantly, you’ll have your own room back. 

Maybe you could surprise him by giving him a pasta dinner, just like he proposed. 

Unable to get the thought out of your head, you blindly reach for your phone on the nightstand. It’s late, very late for a workday. The blue screen burns your eyes a bit, but you're determined to at least check up on Jungkook. You can’t take too long, otherwise you won’t be able to sleep and get him out of your head. Dear, unassuming cousin Hoseok is fast asleep next to you, due to the fact it’s nearly midnight. Making sure not to disrupt him, you carefully cup your phone in your hands, putting it on the lowest light setting. 

[11:54] You: hey, hope work hasnt been as draining for u as it’s been for me  ☠️  what’s your opinion on pasta sauces, red or white? 

Jungkook is normally a fast texter, at least from your experience. It’s you that’s the sporadic texter, sometimes taking hours to reply, other times in seconds. It never really mattered until now, however. But it takes five, ten, and finally fifteen minutes before you get a response. 

[12:09] Jungkook: ??? 

You frown, wondering what you said wrong. 

[12:10] You: do you not wanna do pasta anymore? Are you craving something else now?

[12:10] Jungkook: i don’t think it’d work out 

[12:10] You: why? 

[12:11] Jungkook: im sure you know why, bunny. 

Strange. He’s never called you bunny before, and in your opinion you think he’d be the bunny in the relationship—soft and cuddly on the outside, and an absolute horn ball in bed. Is this some sort of weird power play? Is he being passive aggressive on purpose? Whatever this game is, you’re not into it. Grumbling under your breath, you snake out of bed, looking blindly for your slippers in the dark. You’ll be in and out of Jungkook’s apartment in ten minutes. 

Just as your hand brushes the doorknob, your new roommate calls for you. 

“Bunny?” Hoseok calls blearily, and you’re staring straight at his cookie-printed eye mask, “what time is it, where are you going?” 

“Um, out,” you reply shortly, “I forgot I left my laundry in the dryer.” 

“Oh, m’kay. Come back soon, y’know I can’t sleep alone.” 

It’s then you realize. Bunny. Jungkook thinks that Hoseok and you are a thing. He really needs to stop eavesdropping on you. 

You feel your pussy frown. Your cousin is such a cockblock and he doesn’t even know it. Without an answer, you slip through your door and into the first free elevator. As you zing up the floors with the magical 1234 code, you work and rework your hair in and out of its style, wondering if you’ll look more presentable with your hair messy or thrown back. 

As soon as you reach the penthouse, you burst into action. “Jungkook!” you cry, pounding the front door, “it’s a misunderstanding, open up!” 

The door immediately swings open after the first three knocks, and you punch Taehyung in the chest. 

“You look awful,” Kim Taehyung drawls. Taehyung is wearing nothing but a cranberry red silk kimono, and you have to avert your eyes and focus on his face, which is even worse because he’s looking at you like an all-knowing psychic. 

“Gee, thanks,” you try to move past him, but he’s blocking the door. 

“Jungkook’s in a meeting with some foriegn developers,” Taehyung talks with his hands, pretending like he has any idea of the nature of his roommate’s job, “when it’s this late he doesn’t leave his office until morning. Door’s locked.” 

“Well then, can you relay a message?” 

“Depends, is this message going to hurt him further?” 

Oh my goodness, when Taehyung wants to be he is such an enabler. “Tell Jungkook he’s done wallowing. Instead of jumping to conclusions, maybe he should’ve just asked me why we couldn’t go on a date this week.” 

“You could’ve also just told him you have a man on the side.” 

“Ohmygod you two are two iotas of a combined braincell!” you shove your hands in your pocket, hotly scrolling through your phone so you can shove a picture in his face. “This is Jung Hoseok, my cousin who derailed my plans this week by crashing in my too-tiny apartment and forced me to raincheck with Jungkook. He’s a blabbermouth and would tell everyone—my parents, my grandparents, my great-aunts—about Jungkook if he found out I was dating, and I’m not ready for that,” you zoom in on the picture, despite the fact that the screen is practically touching Taehyung’s nose, “and the reason Hoseok calls me bunny is not sexual—you two are fucking gross—I had front tooth problems in elementary school and I had a brace on my two big teeth, it was not pretty.” 

“Ah, bunny.” Taehyung echoes with wide eyes, looking at you as if you’re now the one with sage wisdom, “it all makes sense now.” He gulps, taking in the old photo of a mini-Hoseok and you, yourself frowning to cover your huge braces and Hoseok trying to pull your gums apart with his greasy little fingers. 

Satisfied by Taehyung’s evident squirming, you decide you’re too tired to further this interaction. “Tell the other half of your cell for me, will ya?” You’re already turning away, pressing repeatedly at the elevator button, “I would love to go on a date with him as soon as he gets his head out of his ass.” 

Jungkook is tired, but not tired enough to murder Taehyung and make it look like an accident. 

When he has late meetings, Taehyung is usually quieter around the apartment, and even gets Jungkook a hot meal once he wakes up in the afternoons. Today, Jungkook slept through and through. Normally he’d wake up midway to Taehyung’s television dramas, or the clanging of last night’s dishes but nope, not a peep. 

And today’s hot meal is takeout from Jungkook’s favorite ramen restaurant. That only means one thing—something has gone to shit and Taehyung feels guilty. 

Jungkook sips his tonkotsu impossibly slow, hearing Taehyung’s words—your words from last night—clear as day. Taehyung even describes in detail where the nickname bunny comes from, down to how miserable you looked in the photo with your monstrously metal-bent teeth. Oh, how he wishes he can swaddle you between the blankets, hold you and comfort you while you deal with your family. 

[2:45] Jungkook: doll, im so sorry

[2:45] Jungkook: please, i booked us a weekend at that new spa that just opened downtown. The tickets are flex, so if your cousin doesn’t leave by then week we can always reschedule 

[2:51] Jungkook: baby doll… 

This is far worse than believing you didn’t like him. Now Jungkook is antsy, knowing you deserve all the space in the world because of how silly he was being. You owe him nothing. If he just waited it out until you were ready, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He’s potato-esque throughout the day, thankfully Taehyung gives him space as he watches hours of mindless television. 

You don’t reply until very late into the night. 

[10:10] You: IM ALIVE--barely!! And mr. jeon, you’re not only a triple texter, but an ellipsis texter???? You’re asking for trouble

Jungkook has no shame, immediately texting you back. He can’t help it, he’s smitten. 

[10:12] Jungkook: taehyung explained everything. It’s all his fault. Don’t ask why, it’s his fault. Im so sorry. 

[10:12] You: mm, it’s okay. Just a misunderstanding. I was pretty upset last night, but i’ve been pretty tired this week so my fuse is short. 

[10:14] Jungkook: you should go to sleep now, doll. We’ll have time together after your cousin leaves

[10:14] You: just a couple more minutes. Miss u and your cute face 

[10:16] Jungkook: 

[10:16] Jungkook: will this hold u off until saturday?

Jungkook is a pile of goo. Pink, warm, happy heart-glittered goo. It takes a minute for you to reply, and for that whole minute Jungkook is kicking his legs under the sheets of his bed like an eager five-year old who just gave his crush his Valentine. Maybe it’s taking you so long to reply because you’re trying to send a selfie of your own, running off to the bathroom to take a cute selfie if your cousin is asleep in bed. 

[10:19] You: fuck, i kno that’s supposed to be a cute selfie, but i want you so bad. I want to sit on your face, let your lips glisten with my pussy as i cum all over that pretty face

[10:19] You: i wanna touch myself so badly but fuckin’ hoseok is out here snoring like he’s gon hack a lung. Panties are so wet 🥺🥺 your doll is needy for you, wanna be played with

[10:20] Jungkook: lfjsdl;fkjs;fjsoisfoisljsdfsdklfjsdklf 

He throws his phone across the bed, feeling himself twitch in his red flannel pyjama bottoms. The thought of you so hot and needy when you’re ten floors down has Jungkook absolutely livid. He doesn’t know how he’s going to talk to you, comfort you without missing you like crazy. 

Jungkook thinks back to what he has in his fridge. His contractor sent him a cheese assortment, maybe he can bring it down pretending to be a friendly neighbor. Maybe Hoseok can go to the convenience store to conveniently grab a bottle of wine. He can make both of you cum in five minutes, flat. 

Akin to a dumb, horny teenager, he sighs. He rubs his palm longingly over his member. He’s horny, but he’s also eager to see your face. Talk to you, get reacquainted with your routine and sneak his way into it. He wants to be a part of your life, and he’s hoping you will too. 

[5:02] You: Jungkook, you left me hanging last night

[5:05] Jungkook: baby doll… i wouldnt have been able to handle myself if we continued

[5:06] You: so you decided to dip :( 

[5:06] You: could u play with your doll a lil bit, kook? Hobi left for another interview

[5:08] You: PNG.0901

Jungkook was a fool to believe that you would drop him like that. No, Jungkook can see now that you two are a match made in heaven. You have a bite, never afraid to speak your mind when needed. This translates to a hunger you shamelessly share with Jungkook, both sexual and romantically intimate. He almost wishes he could’ve seen you act like a bitch to Taehyung last night, he can only imagine how sexy you looked telling him off. 

He has the technology to blow up your picture, the one that’s currently having him close his laptop and shove it to the side. He spreads his legs further across his glass desk, trying to find comfort between his tight pants as he absorbs every bit of your skin. 

It’s nothing too risque, but it’s nothing short of sensual. The room is dark, but it’s very clearly a picture of your hand between your thighs. Again, you’re between your wall and bed, squished between your office chair with your legs spread as far as they can go. Your skin is so soft looking, plush as you press two fingers between your damp panties. Adorable. 

[5:12] Jungkook: you know why i never replied last night? Because i was too busy jacking off to your dirty words doll. U really need your mouth washed

[5:12] You: wanna wash it with something else🍆

[5:12] You: please kook, i need something. Hoseok will come home soon and i might rip his head off. Help prevent a murder

Jungkook chuckles, clutching his phone closer to his body. He loves how much you’re opening up to him. Last week feels like so long ago, how you were all flushed and wide-eyed at the proposition of sex. He thinks you two can have a lot of fun getting to know each other, both emotionally and physically. 

[5:15] Jungkook: i was gonna wait until i sent this, but i think my doll needs it. Here’s what i was doing last night

[5:17] Jungkook: MP4.13

He… has a meeting in five minutes. A very important, very serious meeting. Jungkook jacked off enough last night, now it’s your turn. He hopes you like it. It’s not a very long video, barely a twenty-second clip of him fisting his cock. Taehyung was still home at the time, so he had to keep quiet. However, he couldn’t get the image of you out of his head that night, rubbing your thighs together in a cramped mattress as you try to erase the dirty thoughts of him. A murmur of your name, and the image of his precum dripping down his knuckles. You hope it’s enough. 

[5:34] You: u make everything so much easier💜✨

[5:35] You: MP4.234

Two minutes. The video you send is even shorter than his, barely fifteen seconds. You’re in a much more comfortable position, horizontal on the bed. Your shirt is ridden up to the underside of your breasts, one hand clutching your bare breast so hard he can see your cotton plush skin bulging between your fingers. The other hand has your panties shifted to the side, three fingers in your sopping cunt. 

“Mmh—fuck, f-uck Jungkook—” the words are mere breaths, puffs of air as you reach your orgasm. 

His call connects. He nearly drops his phone on the glass.  

“Jungkook!” Andreas from Germany wishes him brightly, “you look great, glowing even!” 

Jungkook blushes, and mutters something about having to go to the bathroom before they start. 

Taehyung makes himself scarce on Saturday. He packs a duffel bag for himself and takes the PlayStation, knowing it’ll be a long weekend at Jimin’s. 

Jungkook is on livewire for the morning. He even express-delivers a pasta roller to his house, and he spends all morning testing out the perfect pasta dough. His black apron is covered in flour, and he can barely comprehend the tutorial that’s teaching him on his flatscreen. 

He’s on autopilot. He hasn’t contacted you since he sent that selfie, and he doesn’t intend to. Jungkook understands why you made yourself scarce in the beginning of the week, preferring to raincheck and pin your relationship for a better time. Jungkook’s brain is overridden with you, swollen with thoughts of you. You would never be able to focus if you kept in contact like you did last night, especially if you can’t get away from Hoseok. 

Absence surely makes the heart grow fonder. 

Slapping his hands against his trousers, he surveys his handiwork. His pasta is appropriately floured and wrung, each handful of fresh dough wrapped in little nests. Off the stove is a bechamel sauce, a base ready to be cooked in whatever kind of pasta dish you want. He thinks the two of you would have fun making your own non-traditional pasta dishes. 

The soft knocks on his front door interrupts his train of thought, and he knows it’s you. 

You stand in front of the door, impossibly small in a large shirt and a plain pair of leggings. At the sight of Jungkook, a smile as warm and sweet as hot chocolate worms its way to your face, and you collapse into his arms. 

He sighs gratefully, sinking into your small body. When he pulls away, he can’t help but frown at your apparent exhaustion. You must’ve come back from something tedious, because sweat dots your brow and your eyes are still puffy and dark. Your chest arches bonelessly into his, hoping to melt in his embrace. 

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey,” he replies. 

“It’s Saturday.” 

“It is Saturday.” 

You rub your nose between the fabric of his button down, “I should’ve been more specific when I wanted to raincheck on you,” you murmur into the white cotton. 

“No, I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” Jungkook whispers, even though you’re the only two people on the floor, “I’ll make it better, yeah? I’m going to love you so good tonight, won’t have to lift a finger—” 

You shake your head, looking at him calmly. “Jungkook, it’s been a long week. Hobi got the job, I spent all this morning moving his two-ton speaker set into his new apartment. I don’t want anything gentle. I want you to rail me into next week,” Jungkook chokes on his saliva when you reach to cup his dick through his pants, already sporting a chub, “fuck me breathless. I want—no, I need this.”

Anything for you, but Jungkook isn’t going to let your mouth runneth over that easily. He wants that too, obviously. But again, you’ve made him wait. 

Bending slightly, Jungkook whispers darkly into your ear, “Who said you can decide the rules here, doll?”  he’s been waiting all week to slip back into this persona, one that has you shivering delightfully under his touch. A small, secret smile tucks itself under your lips as you tilt your head down, but Jungkook catches it. It shows you’ve missed it too. He lets your sneaky smile  slide for now, only because he’s missed you so much and you’ve had a long day. 

“If I wanna fuck you rough, I’ll fuck you rough. If I want to edge you until you're sobbing on the corner of the kitchen table, I’ll do it,” Jungkook spits every declaration into your skin, biting at your shoulder so hard you cry deliciously. 

He drags you over to the living room, and he could sing at how easily you follow directions. Both of you have been tied up this week, and some hard sex would definitely ease that frustration, “Knees,” Jungkook commands, and you waste no time sinking to the floor, hands atop your knees. 

You look up through your lashes, eyes big and glassy. His poor girl is tired, and he finds it all the more attractive that you’re willing to push that aside to make eachother feel good. 

“Pretty, pretty,” he chants, pulling down his pants and letting his dick spring free, “suck.” 

You waste no time, and he watches as your eyes dilate over the expanse of his cock, half-hard and ready for your mouth. Your nails dig into your knees as you start with featherlight kisses, finally turning into sloppy smacks as you lick all over his dick. 

Jungkook groans, weaving a hand into your hair to force his dick down your throat. You gag at the sudden intrusion, but it doesn’t stop you from taking it like a champ. Hard, deep thrusts that he’s sure you can feel all the way in your stomach. You gag at each thrust, but don’t let up as your hot tongue wraps him up and licks at the pre-cum. 

“Fuuuuck, doll,” he rips you away, his now hard dick springing away. He’s a little shaky on his knees, but he plants his feet down as he grips his cock, slapping the tip of it across your cheek. It smears your face, glossing your flushed cheeks in a mixture of your saliva and pre-cum. “Are you trying to make me cum first? So sweet, you don’t even care if you cum tonight, hmm? You owe me, making you believe you had another man.” 

This isn’t true, of course. The both of you know it was just miscommunication, but it doesn’t hurt to play it up for pleasure. 

“N-no Kook, I’m yours,” you grapple at his pants, pulling them down so he can get them off completely. 

“Right. You’re. Mine.” With every punctuated word is a light slap to your cheek, and you take it. His cock bounces right off of you, until you finally move your head to suckle at the engorged tip, “I’m keeping you forever, doll. Don’t you know that?” 

Throughout this whole process, you don’t move, other than the minute clawing at your knees. You’re so good to him. Jungkook pulls away and ignores the ache in his member for now, taking off your clothes for himself. It’s like unwrapping a gift, revealing every bit of skin reserved for his viewing. “So sexy,” he remarks once he’s got you bare, pulling you onto the couch. He’s still in his button down shirt, his date night shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. However, he lets your hands inch under the stiff fabric, feeling for his taut muscle. 

He guides your aching cunt to his cock, sinking you down. It’s a tight fit, and you both moan at the brush of contact. Despite not being prepped, you’re still slick, and it makes up for it. He doesn’t thrust up or anything, just guides his lips to yours with a threadbare brush of his finger. 

“Kook, d-do you want me to move?” you mumble against his cherry-flavored lip balm. 

“Good dolls don’t move until they’re told,” your eyes widen innocently at the statement, and you crumple against his mouth, at his next words, “cum like this.” 

“Awh shit, please no,” you tear up, burying your head between the crook of his neck, “I can’t wait.” 

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you into next week. You can’t do this one little favor for me?” he’s being so mean, and you hate him for it. Haven’t you earned it? “C’mon baby, I thought you wanted me?” 

It’s silent, save for the soft Italian restaurant music playing from whatever tutorial he’s hooked up to his television. It’s terribly cliche, like you’re in the porno version of a European romance movie. He thinks nothing of it, not when your juices are dripping on his thighs, your skin soft and pliant in his grip. Jungkook drums his fingers against your spine, seemingly uncaring that you’re stuffed deep into your womb. 

On the other hand, it’s the only thing you’re acutely aware of. His thick, warm cock is nestled between your folds, right where it should be. You clench once, twice, thankful that this isn’t some crazed wet dream. States of sleep and consciousness have blurred this week, you’re lucky that you made it all the way up to Jungkook’s apartment. 

You can’t cum like this. You need to bait him. You moan, the sound slow and rumbly against your throat as you weave your fingers through his dark tresses. Moving the strands aside to kiss his cold metal earrings you murmur, “I love this, Kookoo. I’ve wanted you all week, I was going crazy. I kept playing last week in my head over and over. I even put in my little vibrator, hoping you’d pull up the app.” 

Jungkook’s teeth clench, and his grip is borderline painful as it digs into your hips. 

“I haven’t been able to cum all week, and I want to do it all over you,” you husk, playing with the roots of his hair. 

You can feel yourself dripping, wetness lubricating you even further and probably staining his thighs and couch with your arousal. Every second that passes is killer, and the fluttering towards your pussy tighten further as Jungkook’s cock twitches in response. Your pussy continues its ministrations, butterfly-like flaps against his hot member that have you vibrating.

“Mm, oh, I’ll cum for you,” and surprisingly, you might be able to. All this dirty talking has gotten you riled up. Just a little bit more and—

Jungkook shoves you off his cock, forcing you to land on the couch. 

“No!” you cry, wiping your face. Your cheeks are ruddied, and you’re annoyed. The coolness of the autumn air has you feeling chilly, and you want to scream at Jungkook for disrupting your orgasm. You feel empty. 

You’re not annoyed for long however, as Jungkook flips you on your back and gives you what you’ve been craving. 

“You glide right in, don’t ya doll,” the friction is deliciously blazing, his hands pushing you further into the large couch as he takes you from behind. Hot, fast smacks against your ass come from the way his balls bounce back and forth as he pistons his cock in and out. “F-fuck, you’re so good to me. So good, I love having you like this. All pretty and dripping, you really know how to make a guy wait, huh?” 

“Mmph! N-no—hng, but I’m y-yours, Kook,” you garble out, and you’re practically eating the throw pillow you’re propped up on as he slams you further into the cushions, so hard you may fall off, “all yours, honey. N-no more waiting. I want you, want you so badly—ah fuck!” 

“It’s worth it, you’re worth it,” he says over and over, his thrusts becoming sporadic and losing their rhythm once he feels you clenching uncontrollably. He presses his two fingers to your sloppy bud, swirling around the juices eagerly. “C-cum, baby doll. You deserve it, yeah? Cum on this cock, let go.” 

You’re starting to see spots, black and white alike. Finally shying away from his cock you rest on your back, but Jungkook doesn’t stop his fingers from flying across your clit. One look at his face and you’re gone. Pretty brown eyes, overflowing with affection. The feeling is different, and it’s the acute pressure between your stomach and pussy that makes you notice what’s going on with your body. The pressure finally releases, your eyes fluttering shut as you rest your cheek on the cushions. You dissolve, a mess on the couch as white hot liquid ejects from your body, spraying Jungkook’s thighs and cushions. 

“Y-you just,” your lover’s mouth is parted open like a baby kitten, uncaring as to how the dark liquid stains his couch fabric. 

“Squirted?” you answer breathlessly, a melty smile on your lips, “y-yeah.” 

 It sets him off, a button left dormant until now. The thatches of hair that surround his cock are dripping with your mess, a cold reminder that he got you to this high. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his cock back into you, and you gasp at the overstimulation. You try not to focus on how your body is a bundle of lit nerves, only to help Jungkook reach his completion. 

“S-so perfect,” he warbles, pressing kisses to your jaw, chin, lips. Each thrust is deep, thick and heady with emotion. “Mm, I wanna cream this pussy sooo badly—mm, all mine, all wet and warm and so so sweet—” 

He cries out your name, biting into your shoulder as your walls fill further with his hot cream. Your thighs are shaking from sensory overload, and Jungkook has to hold you down and soothe you into a state of reality to cling on. 

Satiated, he nuzzles into your chest, feeling absolutely featherlight. 

“T-thank you,” you say gratefully, when at least three out of your five senses return to your body. Your hands dip down to clutch his cheek, pinching lightly at the warm skin.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Jungkook exhales into your breasts, “d-didn’t even feed you my cum yet.” 

You scoff, pinching his cheek again. You’re aware of his softening cock between your folds, ready to seep the efforts of today’s coupling, but your stomach says otherwise. You crane your neck to make note of the kitchen island, staring curiously at the metal pasta roller and the little nests of carby goodness that decorate the cutting board. 

“Feed me pasta first, please. You have all night to feed me dessert.” 

Jungkook giggles into your stomach, he doesn’t mind feeding you in that order. 

bonus.

“So.” 

“So?” you have cream sauce on your lips, happily slurping on an angel hair. 

“You haven’t told me you liked me back yet,” Jungkook rests his palm in the swell of his cheek, content with watching you eat from where he’s standing on the counter. He leans his upper body across the marble table, muscles rippling against his white shirt. 

“Oh, I did!” you’re affronted, swinging your legs on the high chair, “I totally did last week!” 

“Yeah, well. Can you say it while I’m not inside you?” 

“Okay,” you blink, quirking him with a simple smile, “I like you.” 

“That was anticlimactic,” Jungkook jokes at the brevity of your confession, yet his heart betrays the charm he finds in the three words. 

You scoff, jabbing your fork in the little next of springy noodles. “What do you want to hear? I’ve wanted you since I’ve moved in? I think you’re really handsome when you pace the hallway doing work on your phone? I like the way you cook?” 

“Keep going,” Jungkook sing songs, walking over to hug you from behind.

The stool swings back and forth as he rocks the two of you, softly and slowly so you don’t throw up your dinner. He noses into your neck, inhaling your scent and committing it to your memory. 

“Mm, dessert first,” you insist, twirling around the stool so you can wrap your legs around his waist. “And then I can tell you exactly how much I like you,” your fingers play with the buttons of his shirt, walking the pads of your fingers across his chest. 

Jungkook grins, hands reaching to cup your bottom and bring you to his bedroom. Of course, he’s always willing to satisfy your insatiable appetite. 

[willwriteforhugs]

just a sniffle!- hwang hyunjin

boyfriend! hyunjin x reader- one shot !

word count: 1.6k

genre: fluff, domestic scenario

synopsis: after your boyfriend comes home from a long day, you swear you can detect a scratch in his throat... but he insists he’s fine. fast forward 12 hours, and hyunjin is practically bed-ridden with fever. and now what...

warnings: sickness/a high fever (obviously), minor cursing

a/n: this prompt was requested by an anon!! i hope i didn’t take too long to put this out- it takes me forever to edit when the fic in question is a request, because i just want it to be perfect :’) anyways, to my lovely anon: thank you for the request, and i hope you enjoy!

- - -

earlier, when hyunjin had told you he’d be able to get off early, you’d been over the moon- it was a rare occurrence, after all. your boyfriend has- as many idols do- an extremely hectic schedule, with practices often going late into the night. so when he’d said the two of you would be able to spend the evening together, it had taken all your self-control not to start cheering right then and there. but you had managed to stay calm- and still devise a thorough, detailed plan of how the night would go.

you would make dinner, and it would be ready by the time hyunjin got to your place- because who doesn’t love being welcomed by a warm meal? then, after you eat, hyunjin can run and get cleaned up while you do dishes. when that’s all done, the two of you can get down to business by binge watching all the drama episodes you’d missed. (you never watched them without him, even though you usually fall way behind in the show, due to his lack of free time. he insists that you shouldn’t wait- but you love to watch them with him, so you always let them pile up...)

now, in the moment, you scurry aimlessly about your apartment. dinner is ready, waiting to be served in the kitchen, so you walk around your front room. you know that everything is clean- this is the fourth time you’ve checked. but still, this isn’t an everyday thing, and you want the place to be tidy for your boyfriend. (you also know he doesn’t really care all that much- but it’s the thought that counts, right?)

your train of thoughts ends abruptly when a knock sounds from the front door. already smiling, you rush to answer it- and sure enough, there he is.

hyunjin stands in your front entryway, tilting his head as he looks at you. a smile toys at his lips, and he extends an arm. fighting your own glee, you lean into his embrace, breathing in his familiar scent.

“hey,” you say into his chest. he hums in reply, and you stand there for a moment, simply appreciating each other. after a beat has passed, you speak up again. “let’s go inside.”

the two of you enter, hyunjin closing the door behind him. he’s wearing a casual outfit, made up of just black sweats and a hat. you assume he’s already showered, too, because, well- you won’t lie- he usually doesn’t smell that great after a long practice. but he seems clean, and all for the better- that just means the schedule gets sped up, and more time for the two of you! 

as he usually does, your boyfriend wanders into your bedroom to set down his things, not lingering. he meets you back in the kitchen as you begin to serve the food. you see him smile at the spread, and finally he speaks: “wow, babe. that’s a lot of food.”

at the sound of his voice, you start a bit. it’s much lower than usual, and you detect a bit of scratchiness in it. without looking up, you make your inquiry: “are you feeling well? you sound a bit froggy.”

hyunjin snorts at your description. “froggy? you really are something...”

you smile, bringing two servings of food to the table. as you begin to eat, the two of you settle into comfortable silence. 

as the meal continues, though, you feel yourself begin to frown. despite his obvious attempts to hide it, hyunjin seems to be having trouble swallowing his food. with every bite, you see your boyfriend flinch just a bit. 

not being able to take it any longer, you set your chopsticks down. “really, hyunjin-ah. you don’t seem well, are you getting a cold?”

your boyfriend makes a mocking pouty face at you. clearing his throat, he responds: “i’m fine, y/n. i really am, so don’t baby me.”

you give a half hearted glare. “fine. but if you wake up tomorrow feeling like shit, don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

- - -

you had been right, of course.

and, for the record, you had warned him.

it’s 6:48 in the morning, and both of you were awake. you lean over in bed, switching on the light. laying in a pathetic lump on your other side, hyunjin groans loudly. you turn back around to face him. “hyunjin-ah, seriously. let me feel your head, you’ve been coughing all night!”

the lump that happens to be your boyfriend shifts to face you in bed. you frown once you can seem him clearly- his face is red, and his eyes are watery from the coughing. you place your own cool palm on his forehead, and almost jerk back in surprise. “babe, you’re burning up!”

flinging your blankets away, you spring out of bed. “hyunjin!” you groan. “i knew you sounded off, why wouldn’t you say anything?”

he coughs again, finally managing to clear his throat. in his raspy voice, he manages: “i didn’t want to ruin your night. i knew you were excited.”

you sigh, knowing the feeling, and hating the understanding. hyunjin was overworked, truly. he shouldn’t have felt the need to lie just to spend time with you, no matter how excited you were...

“c’mon.” you say nudging him in the hips. “sit up, i’ll get you some painkillers and water. are you hungry?”

he grunts in response. when you don’t move, he finally mutters into his pillow: “i don’t know.”

a smile tugs at your lips at this. “that’s alright. i’ll get you a bit anyways.”

you know that hyunjin’s dramatics are probably a conductor to this situation, but a tiny part of you is excited at this opportunity to spoil him, even if it’s at his expense. 

in the kitchen, you dig around for the promised medicine and some snacks, then pour a glass of water.

when you re enter your bedroom, you see hyunjin has managed to sit up. his tall figure is slumped as he leans against the headboard of your bed. nonetheless, he smiles as you enter the room. “you’re so pretty in the mornings,” he mumbles.

you gently smack his head as you set down the water glass. “oh, shut up. at least take the meds first so you’ll be able to defend yourself later on.”

at this, he chuckles- but the joy quickly dissipates as the laugh turns into a pained cough. you use your palm to rub circles over his back as he regains his breath. the fit passes, but the tension in the air doesn’t. 

in perfect unison, the two of you sigh.

hyunjin breaks the silence. “i’m so sorry, y/n. i should have just told you i wasn’t feeling well last night... maybe we could have caught it before it got this bad.”

you give him a bittersweet smile. “your pride can be a weakness, my love.”

at this, hyunin puts his hand to his chest in fake shock. “i can’t believe you’d say such things to me. and while i’m ill!”

“it’s just a cold, your highness. take the tylenol and see how that helps.” you pause, knowing that he is probably in more pain than he’s letting on- you can tell because he was covering it with humor, something he rarely does. “do you- do you want a washcloth or something? an ice pack?”

your boyfriend’s expression is warm. his voice is still uneven, and he responds in an almost whisper: “is that alright?”

your heart stutters at his demeanor. “yes, that’s alright.”

when you return with the cold washcloth, hyunjin has slid down a bit- now only half sitting up. his eyes are closed, though you suspect he isn’t asleep, at least not fully. but you can tell he’s exhausted from being up all night with his sneezing and coughing... maybe he really is asleep...

you make your way to him, and pause to admire his peaceful face. he truly is beautiful... you reach over and gently sweep his long hair away from his forehead, allowing your fingers to linger. he’s still very warm to the touch, and you can’t help but worry for him. after a moment, you swap your hand for the washcloth, draping it gently across his already damp forehead. 

you aren’t really sure how to properly care for a sick person, but a cold compress seems to be what all the dramas suggest. so you sit back down and hope for the best. 

a few minutes pass- hyunjin breathing peacefully in the bed, and you in a nearby chair watching him. suddenly, your counterpart’s eyes flicker open, deep brown eyes meeting your own. “y/n-ah?” he rasps.

you almost launch out of your chair. “yes? are you alright?”

hyunjin gives a half-hearted snort as his eyes drift shut again. he continues to speak without seeing you. “i’m fine. but- will- do you mind sitting with me? over here?”

you stare at him for a moment, processing. then you smile. “yeah, i can do that. as long as you don’t get me sick.”

“no promises.”

and with that, you crawl back into bed with hyunjin, his back to you. you scoot up a bit, positioning yourself so you can hug him from behind. you’ve never been the big spoon before- but honestly? you love it, and you bury your face in between his shoulder blades, filled with an overwhelming rush of affection.

“y/n?” comes hyunjin’s voice again, very quietly.

you don’t move, answering into his back. “yes?”

“i love you.” 

and with that, hyunjin slips back into sleep, this time nestled in your arms.

[superhero--imagines]

Etsy Store Here l Ko-Fi l Commission Info

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here!/ Playlist Here!

* Alright so here are the facts as you know them

* Gojo’s a goddamn player and a homewrecker

* The boy probably has half of Tokyo after him

* Not that you can blame them, that pretty face had you fooled at first too

* The second fact, it that for whatever reason, Gojo Satoru has chosen to play house with a future hopeful sorcerer named Megumi Fushiguro

* Which, through forces outside your control, you have become involved with as well

* And the last fact, was that as soon as this no longer interested him or benefited him in any way, Gojo Satoru would abandon the situation entirely and act like it never happened

* So-

* “(Y/N/N), you look nice today, did you do something new with your hair?” Gojo sings

* - pray tell, why is the school prince is currently sitting on top of your desk, looking at you with those heart eyes

* “Oi what do you think you’re doing?” You ask, a vein threatening to pop on your forehead

* “I’m flirting with you~” he sings, only leaning closer with that all-too-pleased smile

* “I’m pretty sure this is bullying” you reply

* Ever since you’ve started pseudo-parenting Megumi and Tsumiki, Gojo’s been doing crap like this,

* Sometimes he tries to feed you at lunch,

* “Open wide (Y/N/N)~” He’ll sing as he holds out a piece of sushi towards you on some chopsticks

* Only for Megumi to eat it instead

* “Why do you look so sad papa, I thought you said I was your pride and joy”

* other times he’s holding doors open for you

* “Ah here let me-“

* You watch as he walks across from you and opens the door to a random void shrine

* You look at him before sighing and opening your own door to the library

* The other day you mentioned how you didn’t get to try the limited edition Sakura Pepsi and came back to your dorm with a bottle on your desk

* Which would be cute- if the bottle wasn’t half-empty with a note that he’d that said

* “Sorry, I got thirsty on the way back”

* Seriously he’s the worst- and yet,

* You turned away from Megumi and Gojo bickering, hoping he didn’t notice how flustered you were,

* you hid your laugh behind your hand as Gojo jogs to catch up with you, saying he was just trying to predict your needs-

* And you held the half-full bottle of Sakura Pepsi to your chest, keeping it on your window sill

* Because you love him-

* Even though you know he’s just doing all these things to entertain himself instead of out of genuine affection

* Even though these feeling will do nothing but hurt you

* You still love him

* He makes your life feel exciting and fun

* And more than that, underneath that moronic playboy exterior, is a gentle, lonely heart

* A heart that will run away as soon as it knows how you feel about it

* So you mask your budding feelings as best as you can

* Because the only thing you imagine is more painful than knowing your feelings won’t be returned-

* Is not having Gojo Satoru in your life at all

* So you do your best to pretend like nothing has changed

* You act just as indifferent as you always have-

* “Here-“ you push your dessert in Gojo’s direction. “You like sweets right?”

* His smile is so radiant you almost have to shield your eyes

* Well, mostly indifferent anyway

* Not that the self-absorbed moronic prince has seemed to notice anyway

* Too busy focusing on the scrumptious piece of cake in front of him

* Still Gojo isn’t one to be underestimated, he looks to you with a twinkle in his eyes

* “Let’s share it!”

* So far he’s tried twice to have an indirect kiss with you, and he’s missed twice

* He even threw away those chopsticks when Megumi ate that piece of sushi in frustration

* But you know what they say, third times the charm

* You look at Gojo with a raised eyebrow, gaze flicking between the cake and his face

* What, did he imbue some cursed energy so it would explode when you tried to take a bite

* “No thanks”

* Cue Gojo crying as he eats his cake

* He’s really been doing his best lately to earnestly pursue you

* But for some reason, you just don’t get it

* “I like you,” Gojo says as you’re walking side by side on your way back to the dorm after visiting Megumi

* You look back at him, and Gojo feels a blush start to fan across his face

* He finally did it! He finally confessed to you

* And his heart is drumming away in his chest

* You don’t seem to understand the monumental significance of what just occurred because what your mind heard was

* “I {really} like {teasing} you”

* You sigh, your heart skipped a beat, for a second you almost got your hopes up

* There’s no way lady killer Gojo Satoru would ever pick you to be one of his lovers, and if he did it would just be so you could be apart of his personal harem

* “Ok”

* And then you turn around and walk away

* Gojo can’t help but feel like this is retribution for all the times one of his romantic partners has said ‘I love you’

* And he responded with:

* “Why would you do that to yourself?”

* Or

* “Cool”

* At first he thinks it’s a straight-up rejection, but he figures out pretty fast that you just didn’t get it when you keep acting the same as you always have around him

* But don’t get it wrong babe, none of this deters Gojo in the slightest

* “Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask

* You’re both in the library, but only one of you is actually studying

* Gojo’s been staring at you with an oddly fixated gaze

* Honestly it’s got you feeling an uncomfortable heat spreading from your face to your neck

* “I’m not giving up you know”

* Giving up on what?!?

* What’s going on right now!!?

* But Gojo doesn’t offer any more insight choosing instead to finally bother reading the book in his hands

* What a weird guy

* You look down to your own book

* You feel the heat linger on your face and neck

* It’s because he’s always saying crap like that, that you’ve caught feelings for him

* Well whatever, everything fades right? Eventually, Gojo will probably lose interest in you-

* He’s part of a clan do you imagine they’ll find a nice girl from a respectable family for him to marry

* They’ll probably have a few kids who’ll be next in line to succeed him

* And by then he’ll be in such a prominent position that you’ll never see him again

* He’ll just be a memory

* Some boy you had a youthful unrequited love with

* The thought makes your heart clench but-

* “It’s for the best,” you tell yourself

* You’re going in completely opposite directions in life, you couldn’t possibly home for anything more than what you have

* After all your luck probably ran out the second you saw his face

* The most beautiful man you’ll ever see

* “I bet he would be one of those handsome grandpas when he gets older” you snort

* The kind that charms and flirts with young men and women just because he knows the effect he has on them.

* You still can’t believe you fell in love with someone like that

* “What a pain” you mumble to yourself, falling back on your bed

* You feel uncertain, afraid of the future even.

* Maybe a snack will help

* It’s the middle of the night, way past the time you were supposed to go to bed when you see him in the kitchen

* Great the last person you wanted to run into

* He’s just standing there in front of the fridge with the door open

* He hasn’t even turned around to say hi or anything

* “Oi Baka prince if you leave the door open like that every-“

* You stop mid-word, you only need one look at his face to know something is wrong

* It’s not all that uncommon for him to do something like this-

* See the thing is, Gojo knows he’s strong enough that he will get to choose when he dies- he’s not bound by the same pain the other sorcerers are, but-

* Well, he’s still going to die

* No matter how much he thinks he’s like god, no matter how powerful he is,

* He’s still going to die

* And growing up with the power he’s had and the mindset that he’s the strongest

* The realization can be pretty crippling

* He so afraid of the uncertainty that brings that most times he can’t move

* The worst part is it’s never when he’s actively thinking about death, or even when he’s on the job

* It’s always at times like this when he’s just woken up and is oddly hungry and he’ll remember

* “Oh, I’m going to die aren’t I?”

* And then it’s like he’s frozen solid

* What is it he usually tells the victims that enter his domain?

* “Funny how when you can do everything, you find you can’t do anything”

* Usually he manages to unfreeze after some unspecified amount of time, getting through it on his own

* But this time, when he finally escapes from the domain of his inner mind he’s covered in a layer of sweat just like always-

* But he’s not sure why he sprawled across the floor

* Not until his head shifts a little, only to see your face looming over him

* Omgomgomgomgomgomgomgomg

* He’s resting his head in your lap!!!

* Honestly this has been a fantasy of his for a while, to have his head in your lap while looking at the cherry blossoms, and you feed him chocolates and a gentle wind caresses your face

* BUT NOT LIKE THIS

* “Feeling better?” You ask

* Gojo thinks he might combust, he moves to sit up but winces

* He’s got the worst headache, these little episodes of his do typically end with a migraine

* Your hand feels nice and cold as it rests against his forehead

* “Rest a little longer, we’re not in any hurry”

* Aaaaand now he’s screaming on the inside again

* “Sorry about this” he mumbles, and you can’t help but smile

* It’s oddly endearing to see a shy Gojo Satoru

* “I bet your lovers would kill me if they saw knew you were showing me such a cute side” you’re half-joking when you say it, but you’re also half-serious

* It gives your Ego a little boost to know you’ve seen a side of him that most of his lovers probably haven’t

* You doubt the mighty Gojo Satoru ever allows himself to be this vulnerable, not even while he’s in the throes of passion

* So that same earnest look on his face startles you

* “I don’t have any other lovers”

* You snort

* “Sure, and I definitely didn’t steal Geto’s pudding that he was saving”

* “I’m being serious”

* Gojo sighs, here he is feeling awfully vulnerable and you still seem denser than a rock

* Do you think he would let anyone other than you see him like this

* “When are you going to realize that if it’s not you then it’s just no good?”

* Your heart is drumming in your ears, and you wonder if he can hear it

* Your mind is telling you to pull back, that this is way too good to be true, that this will only hurt you,

* You should get away while you still have a chance

* But instead something in you persists and you say:

* “Why do you think that is”

* Gojo’s hand reaches up, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger, those clear blue eyes looking straight into yours

* Your breath stutters in your chest

* You always have been weak for those eyes

* His pink lips curl up into a smile

* “Because I love you”

* And before you know what you’re doing your bending down, pressing your lips against his

* “I love you too”

Bonus:

* “You can see through it right?” You ask

* Gojo fidgets with the blindfold, honestly he was hoping for a much kinkier reason than replacing his scuffed sunglasses when you gave him the blindfold

* “It’s a little darker, but that’s not a bad thing.”

* His hair is out of his face too which is nice

* But-

* “What’s with the sudden gift?”

* It’s not exactly out of character for you to get the people you care about something, but this seems a little outside of your usual MO

* “I just felt like it” You mumble

* Now that his eyes are covered up you think he might attract a little less attention, and all his former flings probably won’t be able to recognize him

* Your eyes drift to his uniform, even in the gross pantsuit you can still tell he’s got a pretty nice body,

* But you’ll have to adjust

* Gojo sees right through your nonchalant answer, smiling that wolfish grin

* “Aw was my sweetie scared I was going to leave them?” He coos, moving ever so close

* You only turn away your face

* Gojo only grins wider

* “Honey~ you should know by now if it’s not you then I’m not interested” he sings in your ear

[tangledstarlight]

...i said i was going to make it and well, here we are i guess. im so sorry for this.

Carlos Molina’s to Guide to Ghost Hood (title subject to change) 

welcome to the 1st edition, maybe i’ll make a 2nd if i get inspired enough but also, this is such a mess already i don’t think the world needs a part 2 dfghg

Link to the power point is in the first reblog. (i’d highly recommend watching it for the full experience dfgh)

Link to ao3 also in the first reblog. 

below the cut is the accompanying fic and description of the rules/guide.

The tape recorder lets out a low buzzing sound as Carlos presses a button on the side and stands it up between them on the dining room table. Julie shoots an amused glance at Reggie who’s taken up residence in the chair next to him, the two of them flipping open notebooks and clutching pencils. 

“Where did you even find a tape recorder?” She wonders, stretching out a finger to touch the silver rectangle only for her hand to be swatted away by Reggie.

“Found it in a box of moms stuff and dad said we could order some tapes from amazon,” Carlos replies matter of factly, straightening up in his chair once he seems to have found the page he was looking for. “Right. Let's start off easy, shall we?” 

He looks at her expectantly and Julie rolls her eyes, waving a hand at the two of them, “Lets.” 

“Question one,” Carlos taps his pencil at the top of his page before squinting at her, “Did you conduct any séance related activities before the ghosts showed up?” 

Julie blinks at him, wondering if he’s joking but the pair of them just look back at her, heads both slightly tilted and it’s at that moment that she realises how serious they’re going to be about this. It was going to be a long afternoon of questioning apparently. 

“No, I didn’t conduct any séance related activities. I just put on their CD and they y’know, fell out of the sky.” 

“Interesting, interesting,” Carlos mutters as he looks at Reggie’s notebook as the older boy writes her answer down, underlines something and taps it with his pencil that makes Carlos let out a small hm. “So you don’t know anything about the dark room? Didn’t make any wishes?” 

“No,” Julie shakes her head, watches Reggie write something else down and tilt his notebook to Carlos. It’s weird, watching them communicate like that, like they’ve created a shorthand between them and don’t even require her presence to have a conversation. Which is obviously true because they’ve clearly discussed all this beforehand. 

“You walked through Luke right? What did that feel like to you?” Reggie’s question catches her off guard and she looks between them, but Carlos is already looking at her, waiting for her answer. 

“It was um cold? But also not. I--” she frowns, trying to think back to that first night in the kitchen when she’d turned around and walked through him. Back when she’s barely known any of them and was more annoyed by their presence then comforted. “It was weird. The first few seconds after I walked through him I just felt cold but then it was like a rush of warmth? You know when you get one of those random shivers that runs through your whole body? It feels all weird and tingly but also kinda nice? Like that.” 

“Did it feel like you got a feel of Luke?” Carlos asks and Julie shrugs, a slight blush on her cheeks and somehow, despite the fact they can’t see each other, the two of them share a look. 

“What’s the next question,” anything to move off the topic of walking through Luke and how it felt. 

//

“Oh Julie is gonna be so pissed at you guys,” Alex mutters but makes no move to step in and stop the ‘experiment’ currently going on. He watches as Reggie tries to put a hand on Carlos’ shoulder, fingers phasing through the younger boy's jacket with a frown. 

“She won't be pissed if it works,” is all Reggie says, face morphing into one of concentration as he slowly lowers his hand on to Carlos’ shoulder again. 

For his part, Carlos bounces slightly on his toes, eyes fixed on the notebook in Alex’s hand in case they need to tell him something. And okay, Alex might not fully agree with the way the two of them are going about this whole thing, but he can’t say he’s not on board with it. Their whole stint as ghosts has been nothing but confusion after confusion that not even Willie has answers for. Does he think Reggie and Carlos are going to uncover some fundamental thing that makes them the way they are? Probably not. Will they maybe get him some kind of answer? God he hopes so. 

Especially since there’s been small moments in the last few weeks where Ray and Carlos have been able to hear them even without them playing music or Julie nearby. Which had scared all of them. Thought it was nothing compared to Ray’s reaction when he’d apparently walked into the kitchen to find Julie and Luke hugging, only for him to vanish when they suddenly let go. It was a hell of a way to find out they could be seen if they were touching her. 

“Oh!” Carlos suddenly exclaims, head whipping to look at his shoulder where Reggie’s hand is resting solidly on the fabric of the jacket. Alex feels his eyes widen a fraction and watches Reggie’s smile widen as he squeezes slightly on Carlos’ shoulder. “Oh my god! I can feel that!” 

“Holy shit,” Alex whispers, grip on the pencil in his fingers growing. 

“Hey! I heard that too! Quick! Write it down! 30 minutes and- and however many attempts it took!” Carlos grins, face turning towards him and Alex doesn’t even have time to feel guilty about swearing before he’s scribbling in Reggie’s notebook.

//

“Thanks again for taking me,” Carlos says as he pulls his seat belt across his chest and clicks it in, eyes drifting from his tia in the front seat to the little notebook resting on the back seat and the pencil that’s hovering just a few inches off the paper. Subtly he sees it tap on the page, once, twice, and he bites down on his grin, tucking his hands under his thighs to stop from bouncing in his seat. They’re ready. 

“Of course mijo,” Victoria smiles over at him as she turns on the engine, fingers already messing with the buttons on the radio to find her favourite station. “I have to say I’m impressed. Planning ahead for your dad's birthday.” 

“Mhm,” he agrees, his eyes on the notebook that he can just see in the rearview mirror. The pencils resting between the creases in the pages and he holds his breath as the radio jumps to a different station. 

Victoria frowns slightly, her eyes darting from the road to the radio and back, hand reaching out to change it back. When it jumps to another station. And another. Carlos feels his eyes widen a little, legs bouncing on top of his hands as he watches the radio cycle through station after station, only lingers for a few seconds on each before moving on. 

Finally it stops, the words of Despacito ringing through the car and it’s lucky they’re at a red light he thinks, because when Victoria tries to change it it jumps right back. 

“What the f-” she starts, the furrow between her brows growing deeper and the knuckles on her hand that’s still gripping the wheel turning white. 

“Can we leave it? I like this song,” he looks over at her with a smile, blinking in what he hopes is a completely innocent way. He’s pretty sure she’s too distracted by the radio to question it. 

“Sure, sure,” she mutters, not even looking at him, eyes going from the road to the radio. 

The song ends and from the corner of his eye he can see the pencil in the back moving, Reggie or Willie writing something down and he has to stop himself from turning around to see what it is. Instead he watches as tia starts changing the radio station again, her fingers never leaving the touch screen as if that was the problem. But the second she lands on her favourite 80’s classics station and is moving her fingers away it changes. Skipping through stations again until Despacito is once again filling the car. 

It’s probably lucky that they’re at another red light and that there’s no one behind them because her eyes widen and she’s suddenly saying words in Spanish that he knows he shouldn’t know and is pulling over to the side of the road. 

“We have to get out! The car is being possessed! Out, out Carlos! Come on!” Her seat belt is off and her door is open before Carlos even has a chance to process what’s happening. The notebook from the back is pushed in front of his face and he tilts his head a little to side to read Reggie’s familiar handwriting, 

Too far? 

“Maybe,” he whispers back, taking the notebook out of the ghost's hand as he starts to get out of the car, plucking the pencil out of the metal spirals and making a note about not pushing tia in a moving vehicle and to wait until after they’ve gone shopping first. 

She’s got her phone pressed to ear when he joins her on the sidewalk, pacing up and down. Carlos is pretty sure there’s going to be a family dinner story time in their near future. 

//

Luke watches as Carlos sets his tape recorder up, idly plucking out a half finished tune on his guitar in order to be seen and heard. He doesn’t really get the other boys interest in figuring out their ghostly state of being. The same way he doesn’t really care about finding answers to all of Alex’s questions. 

They ate some bad street dogs. They died. Julie brought them back and then she saved them a second time. They can play music and sometimes be seen. He already has all the answers he needs and it’s two words: Julie Molina. 

Would it be nice to know what the black room was? Sure. Did he sometimes wonder why they could be seen but other ghosts couldn't? Sometimes. Did he want answers? Only if someone was going to give them to him without having to do the work. Was he going to sit here and answer all of Carlos’ questions because it was important to him and to the others? Fuck yeah he was. 

“Does that think pick up our voices even if we’re not playing and not near Julie?” He nods at the recorder on the table after Carlos hits a button. 

“Yeah! It’s so cool too. You sound like, all static-y and I have to listen really hard sometimes because your voices fade in and out but they’re there!” 

Okay, Luke can admit that is pretty cool, “That’s wicked. Maybe we should start using that to communicate instead of writing.” He was really sick of people commenting on his handwriting. 

“Dude that’s genius! It would be like leaving each other voice notes!” He gestures in the air with his pencil the same way Julie does when she’s realised the issue with a verse and Luke smiles softly. He doesn’t know what voice notes are, but he’s glad he could contribute to the communication issue. 

“What questions have you got for me then little dude?” He raises an eyebrow at Carlos as he flips through his notebook. 

//

When he’d first knocked Alex down Willie never thought it would lead to him sitting in the Molina’s family living room, a whiteboard resting on his knees as a twelve year old shows him bar graphs and pie charts of information on ghosts. 

There was probably some kind of domino-butterfly effect going on that had led him here. But he’s too busy trying to fit all his know ghost knowledge onto a whiteboard so Carlos can fill in the gaps in his knowledge. 

Over the years Willie has met a lot of lifers, has interacted with a handful at the HGC but he’s never met a family like the Molina’s. Who found out ghosts were real and instead of running, or trying to profit off of them, had just...welcomed them into the family. Arms wide and hearts open. 

And more than that, here was Carlos trying to get answers to questions that none of them really had an answer too. 

“Black room, yes or no?” Carlos asks, holding up a flash card and a clothes peg, ready to add it to the line of string stretching across the room. It was already littered with other cards in an order that Willie really didn’t understand but seemed to make perfect sense to the younger boy and Reggie. 

Not for me, or anyone I asked at the club, he scribbles down, turning to the board around. 

“Just like we thought,” he nods to himself, taking two steps to the left and reaching up to attach the card, “An anomaly.” he whispers it to himself and Willie has to bite his lip to stop from smiling before remembering that Carlos can’t actually see him. 

“Hey,” Alex’s voice from the doorway drags his gaze away from the lifer and the smile he’d been trying to stop spreads across his face, “How’s it going?”

“I don’t think we’re even half way through,” he chuckles, gesturing with one hand at the stack of flashcards and the charts he hasn’t even seen yet. “Do you understand this system?” 

The exasperated laugh that leaves Alex’s lips is answer enough before he’s even shaking his head, strands of blonde hair dipping into his eyes and Willie wants to reach to move away, “Not a clue. They’ve tried to explain it to us but it makes zero sense to anyone but them.”  

“Hey, Alex, stop distracting him, we’re working here!” Carlos’ voice makes him jump, head turning back to where he’s standing with his arms crossed and shaking his head in disappointment in the vague direction of where Alex is standing. 

“Wait, can he see you?” Willie frowns, mind trying to remember if he knew this or not. 

“No, he’s just really good at sensing us these days,” Alex sighs, but there’s a fond look in his eyes as he looks at Carlos, “He says it’s his ghost powers kicking in from how often he hangs out with Reggie and from all the failed teleportation experiments.” 

“The failed what now?” 

“Oh, you’ll find out. I think it’s section 7?” Alex grins, pushing off from where he’d been leaning against the doorway and waving.

Willie turns back to Carlos feeling a little more confused than he had minutes ago but also much more intrigued about teleportation experiments. And if he could help get some answers for any of the many questions Alex had, that was cool too.

//

Carlos Molina’s Guide to Ghosting. So you became a ghost, huh?

 (working title, subject to change)

By Carlos Molina, with special thanks to Reggie Peters and Willie Skateboard. 

1st Edition. 

Dedicated to Alex Mercer, so he can stop asking so many questions. We’re working on it buddy.

1. Tangibility 

They can walk through anything (except my sister now, reasons still unclear). 

Works especially well with walls, doors and locked vaults (see exhibit a) 

When they walk through people it “allows them to get a feel for the person” – Reggie Peters. “It’s weird” – Alex Mercer. No comment from Luke Patterson as he was too busy staring at Julie. 

2. Souls

Objects can be attached to their souls. 

Still unclear if it has to be an object that they were close to in life, or if they can attach their souls to any object once a ghost. 

Experiments with Reggie Peters are still ongoing. Updates will follow.

3. Being Seen

Can be seen by “lifers*” when they play music with Julie. 

This is the first rule which only applies to our ghosts. 

They can be heard when they play music without Julie. This is also unclear as to why, working theory is “Our music is just so awesome it transcends deaths!” – Luke Patterson.

Mr Willie Skateboard was quick to point out it’s “weird” and “ghosts aren’t supposed to be seen by lifers.”

4. Touching

Our ghosts can now touch Julie. The biggest change in their afterlife. 

Still no explanation for it. Experiments are ongoing (see exhibit b) 

Have witnessed Julie hugging the air many times only for Alex or Willie to appear. Same with hand holding. (see exhibit c for dads reaction) 

5. Magic

Some ghosts have powers and abilities. 

Willie* can control different types of technology. Appears to work best with cars. This we believe correlates with who a ghost dies. 

In our expedition to test his skills he skipped through 15 different radio stations of Tia’s car until he found one playing despacito. Test was a success. Tia does think her car is haunted now however.

6. ???

There was a dark room. 

All other ghosts interviewed had never heard of it before. 

All our ghosts agreed it was weird and creepy. 

We are choosing to pretend it didn’t happen. 

Working theory: a hole in time that they fell through. Must find a way to test.

7. Teleporting

part 1)

Ghosts can teleport wherever they want in the world. 

Only the most powerful can teleport a lifer with them (will keep attempting)

part b) 

Our ghosts can pinpoint Julie’s exact location wherever she may be in the world. 

Will be helpful if she is ever kidnapped, Julie however wishes they would stop using said power to find her in gym class.

“I already have find my friend activated” – Flynn had to say on the matter. 

part c) 

Julie can summon the boys to her if she concentrates hard enough. Came in handy when an evil magician tried to kidnap them.

Also possibly how they escaped the dark room, no way to prove or deny this as dad won’t let me eat a bad hotdog to become a ghost.

Working theory: magic of music and family 

See Exhibit d 

See Exhibit e  

[accio-moony]

Escape || Remus Lupin x Reader SMUT

Request: no. A/N: I’ve been working on this for months. I am disgusted with myself for taking so long. Not fully edited, so probably lots of mistake. Forgive me. Word Count: ~9k Characters/Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader, James, Lily, and Harry Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew Summary: [NO VOLDEMORT AU, post Hogwarts Marauder’s era]It’s near a full moon, but you and your boyfriend Remus are going to Harry’s fifth (5th) birthday celebration. Remus gets really turned on when he sees you with Harry and tries to control it, but he can’t. WARNINGS: face fucking, breeding kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, spanking, marking (scratching, hicks, biting), grinding hair pulling, choking, teasing, dom/sub relationship, overstimulation, dirt talk [all in no particular order god I’m disgusting] *not my gifs*

A loud crash sounds from outside your bathroom, making you jump in surprise and almost slip on the slick shower floor. Out of instinct, your arms come up to cover your chest, though the curtain covers you and whoever it was hasn’t made it to the bedroom yet. Quickly, you turn the water off, and you’re left cold as the remaining hot water runs off of your body. You grab the fluffy towel you had set out and wrap it around your frame before picking your wand up from the counter and slowly opening the bathroom door. You sneakily move to the bedroom doorway and peak down the hall. A tall shadowed figure stands in the great room, a duffle bag in one of his hands, a wand in the other.

“Y/n” the familiar voice calls to you when the man sees you. “Hold on. Lumos.” A small orb of light sits at the end of the man’s wand, and you can quickly identify the face of your boyfriend of several years, Remus, from under the blue-glow of the wand’s light.

“Oh, Remus,” you sigh, and your shoulders relax. “You scared me.” You walk down the hall to him and smack his arm playfully.

“Hmm, I missed you, too,” he grumbles and leans down, kissing you.

The kiss is soft and quick, but still holds all the love you’ve both built up over the years. When he pulls his lips away from yours, you whine, not yet having opened your eyes as you revel in the messed feelings of his lips on yours. He had just spent two weeks with one of his best mates, Sirius, but he was now home.

“Rem,” you say as you open your eyes, but he’s no longer standing in front of you. “Remus?” You call and turn back down the hall.

You find him in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed next to his duffle bag which he had put down. His head leans into his hands as his elbows rest on his knees. You move from the hall to stand between his legs, but he doesn’t look up at you. You carefully grab his cheeks in your hands and pull his face up so he’s looking at you, but he keeps his eyes closed with furrowed brows. 

His actions confuse you. He’s usually very affectionate with you, loving any touch you give him. Slightly confused by his lack of reaction, you think of any obvious reason he could be acting this way, and your mind found the answer rather quickly: the full moon is in just two days. You turn your head back to him, not saying a word as you remove one hand from his cheek and trace your index finger down the bridge of his nose. He softens under your touch this time and quickly reaches up to wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer so he can rest his head on your belly.

You giggle as you run your fingers through his hair. “I thought we had planned to meet at James’s, honey?” You question him. 

At the mention of the small celebration that takes place in just over an hour, Remus drops his arms from your waist and leaned back on his elbows with his head lolled back, and of course, you take immediate notice to his change in demeanor.

“We don’t have to go, Rem,” you quickly counter. “We can stay home, just the two of us, in bed if you’d like.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “You want to go. I would want to go if I weren’t so… well, you know. And they’re expecting us.” He looks into your eyes as he stands from the bed, his tall frame making you stumble back a few steps as he becomes unexpectedly close, towering over you several inches. He places his hands on your shoulders, steadying you as he plants a kiss to your cheek, but his lips linger and wander back towards your ear, his breath hot against your skin making your blood boil. “I’ll be fine,” he says lowly, “but you better go finish getting ready before I change my mind.” His hand slides down and then under your arm, wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you closer until your chest is pressed against his own. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart.” His lips trail back over your cheek and jaw until they reach your lips. He captures yours with his own in a hungry kiss, the hand not around your waist wrapping into your still wet hair and pulling it backwards so he has better access to your mouth. The tension of the pull makes you let out a whiny moan into the kiss as your skin heats up.

You pull away and look into his eyes. They’re dark with lust and hunger. “Go,” he demands, and you scurry into the bathroom, Remus clapping his hand on your butt as you walk away, closing the door behind you and finishing getting ready. 

Once the door is closed behind you, Remus pushes his hand down on his semi, trying to give it some sort of relief. You don’t know yet, but he had gone to spend some time with Sirius, because they were discussing how Remus would ask you to marry him, and he had picked out the ring. You’re the only person in his life to ever make him feel normal and worthy of love. You had convinced him, after many years, that he is not a monster. He’s just Remus, with a furry-little-problem once a month. It had taken him years to believe you, and sometimes it’s still hard for him to, but you had shown him that his lycanthropy does not define who he is, and that he is, in your words, the best guy you’ve ever met and ever will meet. It wasn’t until the both of you left Hogwarts that he knew you were right. He knew you would always be by his side, no matter what condition, no matter what happens. You stood with him for the seven years of Hogwarts like you had known him all your life. You didn’t bat an eye when he told you about him, and you worked with his fellow marauders to become an animagus for him, so you could be with him for his transformations, not just to take care of him on the ends of it. He knows, and as his friends have pointed out on many occasions, you would never leave him. You love him too much. Remus would have to do something truly terrible for you to leave his side. After having convinced himself for so long that he could never have a real family, or even friends, you finally made him grow comfortable enough to the idea to believe he can, though he hadn’t told you yet. To your knowledge, he was still an insecure boy who thought he could never love. He knew you wouldn’t stop until you knew you had convinced him, and then you’d continue reinforcing the idea from then on. He’s able to imagine you with a grown baby, carrying his child, but he never mentioned it to anyone until this past holiday when he told Sirius. He had always pushed the thought aside, not wanting to get his hopes up, not wanting to pass his lycanthropy to an innocent infant. If you loved him for what he is, and you take care of him, then he knows you would do the same for your child, but the thought of passing the trait still terrifies him, but to a lesser extent. 

He turns to his bag on the bed and pulls the small velvet box out of the hidden pocket inside, going to hide it in one of his drawers, one you never go in — his underwear drawer. He opens the box, admiring the ring for a moment. The ring is small, simple but elegant, and he knows you’ll love it, he knows it reflects your personality and relationship perfectly. It’s simple: besides all the crazy stuff in between, the main picture is just love — the only thing that matters in the relationship. He still has to decide how to ask you. He knows he wants it to be romantic, but he also wants it to be as soon as possible. The romantic part isn’t difficult, it’s the having to wait until they’re not so close to the full moon. He could ask you tonight, before the gathering, but he doesn’t want you to think of it as a rash decision he made because of the full moon. If it was, he would’ve asked you months ago, maybe on a night where you were scolding him for trying to drink away the post-transformation pain. Quite the contrary, really. Usually, during a full moon, he’d get more self-conscious, feel more like you deserve better, but the full moons have begun to prove to him that he will marry you. You’re always there no matter what, and you always will be. He knows that, and he wants to keep it that way.

He hears the bathroom door open, and he quickly shoves the box haphazardly into the drawer.

“What’re you doing?” You ask him suspiciously.

“Uh,” he grabs a random pair of long black socks. “Looking for these,” he excuses, turning to you as he holds up the socks for you to see. It’s then he notices you’re in your favorite matching black lace bra and thong, and he curses his blood for running hot and straight to his groin. 

“Uh-huh,” you nod, still skeptical as you walk closer to him. 

As you reach the closet and start to look for an outfit, he quickly closes the drawer to try to hide the box from you.

He rummages through his clothes, picking out a plain white dress shirt with a dark red cable-knit sweater that contrasts just enough to wear with the pair of jeans he already had on and his favorite sneakers, sporting his signature comfortable-but-intelligent, soft attire and just enough of his old house colors. He puts the clothes on the bed with a subtle tie and pulls his jumper over his head, leaving him bare. In the mirror, you can see his back muscles flex and tense as he pulls the dress shirt up over his shoulders and start to button it. You walk over to him, laying the skirt and top you chose next to his outfit and helping him button up his shirt. 

“Let me help,” you smirk as you grab his shirt, looking up into his amber eyes innocently. You let your fingers trace over his muscles and is scars as you admire it all, never shying away from his flaws. When the shirt is buttoned, you grab the tie from the bed and toss it around his neck, grabbing the other end as it comes around and tugging his neck so he gets to a height where you can stand on your toes and kiss him passionately, biting and pulling on his lower lip as you pull away, releasing it softly as you lick your lips, looking into his pupil-blown eyes. 

As casually as possible, you step back from him and grab your clothes. First your mini skirt, pulling it over your bum and purposely squeezing into it give Remus a show. You grab your semi-casual blouse and pull it on, then tucking the bottom hem into the skirt. 

By this point Remus had his tie done and was pulling the sweater over his head, smoothing it down his chest. You grab your small wedges and wand before walking towards the door. 

“Let’s go, Remmy,” you call to him as you walk into and down the hall, your hips naturally swaying with each step.

Behind you, when he sees your hips move like that, Remus growls under his breath, but quickly subdues it with a cough as he follows you, grabbing his own wand on the way out, failing to pretend he could get the image of your plump ass out of his head. You grab the gift-wrapped box for the party, and the two of you went into the front garden, just by the old, rickety front gate. Remus holds his arm out to you, and you take it, preparing yourself for the sickening feeling of apparation. Your feet are lifted off the ground as you swirl into a spaceless darkness, squeezing through time and space in a way that would be nauseating to anyone who didn’t do it several times a day. 

It had been several hours since you and Remus had arrived at James and Lily’s house. You were in the kitchen with Lily, talking about what life is like, and how it changes once you marry and have children. You want that with Remus, and you had since before the two of you left Hogwarts. In Remus’ eyes, to your knowledge, he could never put that burden on someone for the rest of their lives. He didn’t want to risk passing his lycanthropy on to his children, who did nothing wrong, did nothing to deserve the condition, no matter how often you remind Remus that he didn’t do anything wrong, that he didn’t do anything to deserve the painful monthly transition. You wish you could make him see himself through your eyes, make him see how perfect he is. You wish you could make him see himself through his friends eyes, make him see how James, Sirius, and Peter adore him. You’ve confided in Lily about this before, and every time, she tells you how James tells her the same thing, wishing his friend could see how much he’s truly worth. The conversation dies down when you don’t respond, but just think about your boyfriend and how amazing he is. It upsets you to see his self-esteem so low. 

Your mind shifts back to when you were getting ready, and how Remus touched you, how he kissed you. You feel your skin heat up and your insides churn just thinking about it. You know it’s only a few nights to the full moon, and those nights, Remus gets sexually needy and rough. It’s something you love from him. He’s usually a softer lover, and you admire him for that, but sometimes you need something more stimulating. That need is rare for you and strangely correlates perfectly with his own

You squeeze your thighs together, trying to find some friction, but you are unsatisfied. You leave the kitchens and find Remus in the living room with his friends. He’s sat back in the couch, almost zoned out. You go to walk towards him with a simple innocent smile on your face, but you’re stopped when you feel a small hand grab your own. 

“Aunt Y/n!” You hear Harry call from behind you. You turn to him, giving him a big smile.

“Hi, Harry!” You exclaim. “Happy birthday!” “Thank you,” he says politely and hugs around your legs.

You chuckle and get an idea, a potentially dangerous idea. With your back towards Remus, you bend at your waist to lift Harry in your arms, but, as you hoped, your skirt rides up your hips, exposing just enough of your thong to Remus that you can feel his eyes burning into your back. You conceal your smirk with a big smile as you talk to Harry, “Where’s your mommy, huh?” Your knuckles nip around his nose playfully as you hold him in your arms, balanced on your hip as you walk into the kitchen with him still in your arms. Sweetly, he lays his head against your shoulder, and almost immediately falls asleep. Lily coos at her son when he she’s you with him. 

“I don’t see how Remus isn’t dying to see you like this with his child,” she comments, kissing her sons head. 

“I may bring it up to him again soon,” you comment. “I want him to know I truly want a life with him. But I’ll wait until a week or so after this full moon. I don’t want to aggravate him.”

Meanwhile, back in the living room, Remus looks over at Sirius once you’ve gone out of sight and ear-shot. “Fucking, damn-it,” he swears, unintentionally getting all of his friends attention. He blushes, trying to act like he didn’t just say that in a most aggravated tone.

“What is it?” James asks his friend, his eyebrow raised.

“I, uh —“ he starts, but is cut off.

“Can I tell them?” Sirius tries to, but fails to whisper to Remus. “Please?”

“Tell us what?”

“We’ll there’s no point hiding it now,” Remus sighs, giving Sirius at death glare. “You’ve gone and told them somethings up.”

“Great!” Sirius turns back to James and Peter. “He’s taking the jump.”

After a moment of confused silence, and Remus rolling his eyes, Peter speaks up. “The what?”

“The jump: he’s going to ask her!” Sirius explains, giddily happy. 

“Finally!” James exclaims.

Remus blushes deeply, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s no point not to. She’s everything to me… and she’s proved time and time again that I’m everything to her. She’s the only person to ever have made me feel normal, worthy of love.”

James and Sirius start high-fiving excitedly. 

“I mean, I already knew at this point that starting a family would be a part of this, but Merlin, seeing her with Harry like that just makes my heart want to explode.” Remus pulls a pillow off the couch and into his lap. “It’s turning me on, you know?..” He says under his breath. “Plus, I think she’s teasing me.”

“I’ve got this!” James says and stands up.

Sirius and Remus both grab his wrists, making him sit back down. 

“Don’t you dare—“ Remus starts, but it’s too late. James sets his plan into motion.

“Harry!” James calls from the living room, giving Remus a wink.

Harry’s head shoots up off your shoulder at the sound of his father calling his name. 

“We’ll see,” you smile to Lily, ending your conversation and turning out of the kitchen with Harry still in your arms. By the time you’ve reached the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, he’s wiggling so much that it’s difficult for you to keep hold of him. Again, you bend at the waist and place his little feet on the ground. Your blouse falling slightly and exposing your cleavage as you had  secretly hoped. You stand up again, and watch Harry run over to his father and jump into his lap. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Remus push a pillow down onto his lap and cross his legs. You smirk to yourself and look at him, his eyes boring you a hungry look, and you decide that you have to use the bathroom, meaning you’d walk right by him. You walk across the living room, tucking a stand of hair behind your ear as you head to the bathroom in the next hall, passing the end of the couch that Remus is seated on. When you get close enough to him, he reaches over the arm of the couch and grabs your waist, the side opposite him. He spins you and pulls you so you’re sitting in his lap, and he slyly removes the pillow, making you land right on his cock. You squeal slightly on your way down, and when you feel his hot breath against your ear for the second time tonight, you can’t help but squirm in his lap, “accidentally” creating friction between the two of you. 

Remus’ hands grab your hips and hold them still, holding you down against him.

“You feel that, babygirl?” He asks in a hushed voice so only you can hear him as he pushes his hips up from the couch, his hard member pressing into you. “You got me all hot and bothered in front of all of our friends. You’re going to have to fix it for me.” He nuzzles his nose into your hair, breathing hot on your neck, and you let out a whiney moan at his words. “I would take you in the bathroom now, but with what I’ll have to do to you, there won’t be enough space in the there.” His lips graze your neck, and he unexpectedly flattens his tongue against your skin, leaving it feeling like it’s boiling. He hums at the taste of your sweat. “And I want to be the only one to hear you screaming my name. You are mine, after all.” He leaves an open mouthed kiss on your shoulder, his tongue grazing the spot at he kisses it. “So, go get your purse. We’re leaving.” His teeth nip at your ear and he pinches your butt under your skirt as he pushes you off of him. 

For a moment, you don’t move, too stunned to do anything, but to your dismay, and Remus’ impatience, his hand flattens against your lower back as he leans forward in his seat, pushing you in the direction of the kitchen. On your way stumbling into the kitchen to find your purse and say goodbye to your friends, you look over your shoulder back at the man you love. He leans closer still to his friends, saying something inaudible to you that makes them all smirk and chuckle. Blushing, you scurry over to your purse. 

“Got her,” Remus smirks from the living room to his friends.

“I honestly didn’t know you had that in you, Moony,” James laughs.

“She does things to me.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” You hear Lily from behind you.

You turn to her, your purse in hand, and you pull her into a goodbye hug. “Remus wants us to go home,” you almost whisper. 

She grabs your shoulders and pulls away from you, holding you in front of her. “Is it what I think it is?”

You smirk and look over her shoulder into the living room.

She pulls you into one more hug. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she tells you when she pulls away again. “Or anything James would do!”

Once Remus lays his eyes on you again after you’ve stepped back into the living room, he quickly stands, waiting for you as you walk over to him, and he takes your hand, pulling you away without any word to anyone.

“Bye, boys!” You call over your shoulder as your frustrated boyfriend pulls you out the front door. Your feet barely hit the garden when you’re lurching through space again, Remus disapperating from Godric’s Hollow with you on his arm. You feet hit the ground in the front garden of the home you and Remus share, and you’re instantly stumbling as he’s pulling you up the front step and into the house. He slams the door behind himself once you’ve both entered the house, locking it with a swish of his hand, as his other grabs your lower back and pulls you against him as he growls down at you with a matching look of hunger in his darkened irises.

You feel that he’s harder than he was just a moment ago when you were sat in his lap, and you could swear that you had long since soaked through your panties. 

His hand not holding your back grabs your face as he pulls your lips to his in a harsh, passionate kiss. The hand that was on your back sliding down to just under your butt as he lifts you up. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist to help him support you, and your skirt bunches up to your waist, your thong pressing against his leather belt. 

He walks forward, pushing your back against the door as his lips move from your lips to your neck, sucking and biting, effectively marking you as his own with the dark bruises he leaves behind.

You whine his name breathlessly at the feeling of his teeth, tongue, and lips all grazing and working at your neck. In hearing your name, Remus growls against your soft skin, biting down on it as he replaces your feet on the ground then pulls away, much to your displeasure. He walks backwards towards the couch, dragging you along with him by your hands. He sits down on the comfortable couch, his hands leaving yours and sliding down your sides and back towards your butt. As his hand rests on the top of your ass, he grabs the zipper of your skirt, pulling it down excruciatingly slow, but once he zipper is over the curve of your plump butt, he quickly employs the new margin of space available and shoves the skirt down your legs, letting it fall to the ground silently. Hastily, Remus’s hands grab at the back of your things, pulling them down and over to the sides of his own, making you straddle his lap. As he reconnects his lips to your own, one hand grabbing at the back of your blouse, the other cradling your face, you moan. You revel in the feeling of his plush lips for the first time this evening, being less caught up in passion where you can’t think, yet your senses are still crowded with longing. They work effortlessly against your mouth, his tongue pushing past your lips and exploring the area same as he would if he had never kissed you before, brushing over your lips, against your teeth, the inside of your cheeks, and the roof of your mouth before finally pressing his tongue down on yours, which had been begging his silently. As you two mix your mouths, you moan at the taste of him, the remainder of the one drink he had intoxicating you as if you were the one who had drank it.

You grind your hips down onto his jean-clad crotch, the denim rubbing perfectly through your soaked thong and against your aching core, a whine escaping your throat and into his mouth. Your hands slide under his sweater, then under his dress shirt, feeling his hard muscles under his warm, tan skin, littered with soft hills from scratches and wounds of the many previous full moons he’s had to endure. 

Remus leans back, detaching his lips from yours for a moment only long enough to remove the red sweater before fervently reattaching himself. His hands hold you still against him, one keeping your hips down on his own, the other holding loosely tangled in your hair. He could leave his hand in your hair for an eternity, sexual or not. He loves playing with it, twirling it between his fingers when you lay your head in his lap on the couch while he reads; he knows you love head and back massages at night and how they put you to sleep in a mere minute. Your hair is soft and silky, easy to run his hands through without getting caught on any knots or tangles. He also know how much you love it when he grabs your hair by it’s roots, tugging enough for tension but not pain, or when he puts it into a make-shift pony tail when you’re going down on him. 

Your soft lips leave the warmth of his mouth, pulling them away and down over his jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses. Your tongue brushes over his scruffy face with every kiss, tasting the salty sweat that has begun to seep from his pores the more you touch him. Trailing your lips down his neck, sucking soft marks into it, biting on his collar bone or shoulder as you pass it, your hands nimbly work at the buttons on his shirt, shaking from the excitement running through you, the continuous passion you hold for your boyfriend. Your mouth follows the buttons as the come undone down his chest, adjusting your position in his lap and on the couch to keep moving a few inches with each new free button as you kiss, lick, and suck at his supple skin.

When your tongue licks at the top of his faint happy trail, feeling his grip on you tighten, you kiss back up his chest, pushing the shirt to the sides to reveal his tones abs and pecks. Remus isn’t super muscular, he isn’t burly by any means, but he’s toned and has just enough muscles to look strong and soft at the same time. You run your fingers through the short chest hair that lightly strews across his chest as you kiss each of his scars, following them until they stop or disappear behind him. His scars are a story, they show how strong of a man he is, the man you love more than anything. His story has become your story, one you’ve loved since the beginning. 

You reach back up to his neck with your lips, kiss and continue to mark up the length of it as you return your mouth to his. You lean in just enough to feel your lips brush together softly, but you pull back when Remus tries to connect them. You smirk as you place a single, hot kiss to his lips before getting off his lap completely, sitting on your heals, your body supported by your knees on the floor in front of him. You start you lips back at the top of his happy trail again, and he pushes his hips forward, leaning back farther into the couch for both of you to be more comfortable in the coming activity. Your mouth trails down to his waistline as your hands run up and down his thighs slowly. When you reach the line of his jeans against his waist, your hands slide up, slowly, towards his belt, squeezing his painfully hard erection through his clothes as you pass. Once the buckle is free, you pull back completely, sitting back and looking up at him with your innocent doe eyes as you pull the leather from the denim loops. Your hands find the button on his jeans, quickly popping it open and then carefully attaching to the zipper as you pull it down.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of his trousers and pull down, he lifts his butt from the couch cushion enough for you to slide the fabric over his butt. You only pull to to just past his upper thighs, leaning his legs covered but giving you comfortable access to his treasure. Your soft hands rub back up his legs and over the material of his boxer briefs, finding his length and giving it a firm squeeze at the base, skidding your hand back and forth just and inch or so as you kiss at the damp spot over the tip of his cock. You slowly wipe your tongue on the spot, giving him an unsatisfying amount of friction.

His hand in your hair yanks your head back with a delectable amount of force, lifting your mouth off of him and forcing you to look up at his as you moan from the tension. He leans forward in his seat, bending low enough for his lips to be by your ear, his hot breath fading over it as he speaks. “You don’t want to tease me anymore tonight, love,” he informs you. “I had already been planning on you not being able to walk for the rest of the week.” He pauses and licks a stripe up your neck before continuing. “But now you’ve got a whole other punishment coming your way.” His hand leaves your hair for just a moment as he cups your cheek softly, leaning back a bit and pulling himself from his underwear. Once his aching cock is free, his hand on your cheek slides back into your hair, forcing you down so your mouth is next to his radiating member before sitting back into the couch completely.

Obeying, your small hands wrap around his cock, and you lick a long, wet stripe up the thick, pulsing vain on the underside. The feeling of it throbbing against your tongue, and the taste of his pre-cum when you reach his tip is almost enough to make you cum there, without being touched. You moan against him, still teasing him, still driving him mad.

His hair in your hair pulls you up only slightly as his other hand grabs and slacks your jaw, forcing you to take his delicious cock into his mouth. “Stop,” he says sternly as he thrusts up into your mouth. “Teasing,” he thrusts again, making you gag as he hits the back of your throat, unprepared. His hand in your hair loosens and his other leaves your jaw, letting you recompose yourself before further coaxing you. “Come on, Princess,” he hums softly, pushing stray hairs out of your face. “Let me see you take my cock in that pretty little mouth of yours. I know you want to, I know your desperate for it. Take my cock in your mouth, and you’ll get it nice and rough later.”

You whine at his words, quickly wrapping one hand around the base of his cock, spitting over it before lowing your mouth onto him, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks as you rejoice in the feeling of his cock filling your mouth. You hum against him, pleased to be providing him with pleasure. 

Remus starts grunting in time with your head and thrust up shallowly to the same rhythm. His hand drops from your hair when he thinks your ready, and they both grab the sides of your face as he fully fucks up into your mouth. Your hands flatten against his thighs, bracing yourself as you take him down your throat.

He’s grunting and groaning and praising your mouth until you feel him twitch in the back of your throat, before he roughly pulls your mouth off of him. He stands up quickly, shoving his pants the rest of the way down and taking his socks and shoes off with them, leaving them there as he pulls you up, kissing you once passionately, both of you moaning into the kiss.

His hand wraps around your wrist and he pulls you farther into your home and to your bedroom. He pushes you down on the edge of the bed before climbing on, straddling your legs with his knees on either side of your thighs as his hands wrap under your arms and pull you up higher on the bed so that your head rests in the pillows.

Remus’s calloused hands slide under the fabric of your top, pushing it up before grabbing the hem and forcing it over your head. He throws the shirt to the floor somewhere on the room, somewhere neither of you cared about right now. His mouth works down your neck, leaving more marks as he crosses over and down your chest, licking at the top of your breasts above your bra before biting harshly in the same spot. You moan out, loving the feeling of his teeth against you. His nibble hands slide under your arched back, making quick work of your bra as he snaps the band and releases the clasp. That is discarded in an equally irrelevant place as your shirt. As soon as your breasts are free, he leans in, sucking one of your nipples into your mouth harshly, letting his teeth graze over it and bit down ever-so slightly as his other hand cups your opposite mound, rolling and pulling that nipple through his fingers making you moan out his name.

His lips and hand switch sides for an equal moment before they continue down the valley of your chest and your soft stomach, leaving more marks still as he makes his way to your panty-line at an agonizingly slow pace. His fingers grip into the flesh on your sides as he sucks and licks his mark onto your tummy. You’re left trying to string word together to make a sentence, but it’s all incoherent as it just comes out as breathless pants. 

You’re able to build your voice back when he just follows your panty-line across your tummy, avoiding the steaming apex of your legs that’s screaming for his attention. “Rem-“ you barely manage, and his lips slow against you as he looks up at you from almost between your legs. “Plea—“ but you can’t finish as you gasp out a breath when you feel his lips switch to your thighs. 

“What was that?” he smirks into your leg?

“Ple—“ you try again, only for him to bite into the soft skin of your thigh.

“I need to hear the full word, babygirl,” he says, pulling away from one thigh and moving to the other.

“Please!” You force out, not letting him cut you off with his actions again.

At that, his mouth leave your thighs as he sits up, leaning over you enough to kiss you passionately, and you wrap your hands into his hair. “Good girl,” he smirks against your lips before pulling back again, positioning his face between your thighs while he sits on his knees, leaning forward. Without a warning, he presses his tongue over the wet fabric covering your mound. Me moans against you, feeling how you’ve soaked through your thong, and he can taste you. “Merlin, baby,” he hums into you, sucking you through your panties before pulling back. “You’re so wet, Y/n,” he teases as his fingers gently wrap under the waist line and begin to pull down your thong. “Who did that to you, hm?” He encourages you, throwing your thong off the bed before laying on his stomach between your legs, roughly gripping your thighs in his hands and pushing them up against your chest, giving him a beautiful view of your soaking cunt. He blows hot air over your sensitive core as he waits for you to answer.

“You, Remus! You made me that wet,” you plead for him. He happily obliges and dives in, licking his tongue up and down through your folds without warning. “Oh, fuck,” you curse out in a whine.

His tongue stills and flicks over your swollen clit several times as he rubs the tips of his fingers against your entrance, getting them ready for you. He stops licking as he begins to push his fingers into you slowly, his lips wrapping around your clit instead and sucking the bud into his mouth. His fingers only pushed in slowly until they reached a halt. He gives you zero adjustment time and starts pounding them in and out of your pussy, creating an obscene sound as the curl and twist within you.

You moan out at the sudden sensation, music to his ears as one hand finds this hair, wrapping into it and pulling. He moans into you at the tension you create and hearing your angelic voice do such sinful things. With your legs still pressed to your chest, you can barely reach the one hand into his hair, so the other reaches under your head, grabbing and pulling at the pillow.

He continues fucking his fingers into you at the fast pace, continuing to suck and lick your clit the same. You quickly become a moaning mess, and you’re almost embarrassed by the pornographic sounds you’re making. Your head turn to the side, and you bite into your arm to suppress the sounds. This doesn’t go unnoticed, and Remus pulls away from your center, his face slick with your arousal. His hand leaves the warmth of your walls, smacking down over your cunt and causing you to involuntarily jerk forward.

“Don’t be quiet,” he demands. “Let me hear you, darling. Let me hear the sounds only I can get from you, yeah?” He cocks an eyebrow at you and your mouth releases your arm, but as though he doesn’t trust you to cover it again, he pulls your hand from the pillow, and interlaces his fingers with yours as he dives back in, eating you like he hasn’t eaten in months.

He returns to your cunt at the same pace, but only picks up the speed from there, his fingers digging not you deeper, rougher as he pushes you towards the rapidly approaching edge. He knows your dangerously close, and he pulls the high from you as he moans into you, sending vibrations through you that tip you over the edge. You moan loudly, legs convulsing at the intense peak rushing through your muscles. He pulls your legs down over his shoulders so you’re more comfortable as he continues to work your cunt, you thinking he’s riding out your high. Only he doesn’t stop. He removes his fingers from your hole, but continues sucking on your clit. The sensitivity from the orgasm that just ripped through you puts you right back on the edge. Your hips start to buck and both your hands lace into his hair, gripping tight. The intensity of only being on the verge of your next orgasm has you crying in pleasure, your hands pushing against him as you try to move his face off of you.

Your hands quickly give up as he holds himself onto you, and when he starts shaking his head back and forth with his tongue pressed against you, your pushed over that second edge, your back contracting as your muscles force you to sit up, using his hair as an anchor. He moans into you as you pull his hair, and he slows down, carefully lapping up your juices before kissing back up your body to your lips. 

He gives you a chaste kiss before he flips you over, pushing your face down into the bed. His hands hook over your hips, grabbing around them and pulling them up so your ass is in the air on perfect display for him. His hands leave your hips once they’re where he wants them, wrapping them around your wrists and pulling them back behind your back before wrapping one of his large hands over them both to keep them there. His other hand reaches between your legs, spreading them apart so he can comfortably stand on his knees behind you. After your legs were in position, he used the hand not restraining your wrists to grip his cock, rubbing it up against your core, getting it slick and ready for you, but still not entering you.

You moan at the feeling of his throbbing length pressing against you, so close, but not close enough. Your moan, having been a subconscious technique to get him to continue, is not a suitable attempt for him. His hand leaves his cock, still pressed against you as he holds his hips against your own, then smacks down on your ass, wordlessly commanding you to beg for him.

“Remus,” you whine, pushing yourself back against him, and his hand comes down on the opposite cheek. Not good enough. “Please!” Another smack. Still not good enough. “Remus, please!” You try combining the two previous pleas, but he spanks you again, and you know he wants to hear you say it. You know he won’t give you what you both crave until he hears you say it. “Please, Remus! Please, fuck me,” you cry out as his hand comes back down on you, only this time for fun, to make sure both of your cheeks are equally reddened. As you’re whining his name again, his hand leaves your ass and grips himself at the base, pushing into you to the hilt in a quick thrust, no warning.

“Good girl,” he groans from above you as you moan out at the feeling of him so perfectly stretching you. He stills only long enough to get out the two words and move your hair over your shoulder, letting him see the side of your face and the top of your back and shoulders. You don’t have much time to adjust before he pulls out, almost completely, and starts thrusting forward into you again at an agonizingly slow pace. His palm runs over your red cheeks, soothing and kneeling the skin under his hand while still holding your arms behind your back.

The perfect friction, the prefect way he fills you up and reaches every crevice within your walls has you softly moaning for him, but you need more. You start to push your hips back into him, meeting his thrusts in his rhythm but trying to get him to speed up all the same. “Rem,” you moan. “Faster. Please.”

His one hand releases your wrists, the other holding your hips against his as he wraps the first around your throat, pulling you up against him until your back is pressed to his chest. “You want me to pound you, huh, baby?” He breaths hot on your ear, his hips thrusting roughly up into you and hitting your g-spot dead center, causing you to cry out his name. “You’re so needy for my cock?” His teeth graze the shell of your ear as he thrusts again, another cry escaping your lips.

“Yes!” You call out to him. “Please, Remus. I need you.”

You say what he wants, but his reaction if the opposite for you. He pulls away from and out of you completely, pushing you back down onto the bed forcefully, and you bounce a little once you hit the bed. He turns you over again, having you face up as he kneels between your legs again, grabbing them from behind your knee and putting them over his shoulders as he realigns himself effortlessly and continues to pound into you.

The pornographic sounds you make further strive the hungry beast inside him, and he reaches down for you, draping his hand back over your throat and squeezing once more. He continues to hit the bullseye in you repeatedly, almost as if he’s trained his whole life just to please you to such an extent. His thrusts are so precise that you barely registered the build up to your rapidly approaching third orgasm.

“Rem,” you draw out his name, warning him, and he understands.

“Do it, baby,” he commands, and you let go of the force pressing violently against your gut.

You scream his name, your voice hoarse and throat sore as you whine and gasp while you come down, Remus working you through it the whole time.

“Good girl,” he praises you, dropping your legs from his shoulders as his hand leaves your neck and slides up.  He cradles your cheek as he leans over you, kissing you passionately as his thrusts slow down. “You’re so beautiful, darling. Just absolutely perfect.”

Remus’ previous aggressive lust, turns into a loving lust, just wanting to be one with you, be a whole instead of two halves. There’s just as much passion as before, it’s just more apparent now without his hunger for you clouding it.

“Remmy,” you whine, too sensitive after three orgasms. You’re still soaking, but you can feel every ridge of his cock as he slides in and out of you. Remus lifts his head from where it was folded into the crook of your neck, looking deep in your eyes. “I can’t. It’s too much.” A tear falls from your eye and runs down your cheek, but he’s quick to catch it, kissing the wet spot it left and then your lips so softly you barely feel it.

“Help me finish, baby. I’m close,” he encourages you to hold on just a few moments more. “You can do it, Princess. You’re being such a good girl for me.”

You nod your head as you look up into his darkened, but soft, eyes. The way his mouth hangs open and his eyebrows furrow together, you can tell he is close. You moan his name as you pull his lips into another love-filled kiss, wrapping your legs tighter around his hips and your arms over his shoulders, pulling him deeper into you. You break from the kiss panting. “Cum in me,” you plea so softly you can barely hear it.

Remus’ hearing is strong enough to pick it up, and his rhythm falters for half a moment. “Really?” He asks, how close he is painfully evident on his face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

His carnal need resurfaces, hitting into you harder, and you cry out every time. “You want me to cum in you, huh?” He growls into your ear, but he’s so close it breaks into a groan. “You want me to fill you with my cum, baby?”

You nod vigorously, not being able to form any words with the intense feeling burning in your core. He captures you lips in a kiss as he stills, buried deep inside your cunt and coating your inner walls with his hot ropes, his hips involuntarily jerking as he does. You’re sensitiveness, his words, and the feeling of him and his cum filling you to the brim push you over the fourth edge, and you crying out as your body convulses under him so much you would’ve folded in on yourself if his body weight wasn’t keeping you flat on the mattress.

He collapses on top of you as both your bodies give their last few tremors, both of you panting and sweaty, hair sticking to your faces. His arm extends towards the side table, looking for his wand. “Fuck,” he mutters, and you hum in question to his exclamation. “Our wands are still in the living room,” he kisses you softly, but with so much love. “You know, with our clothes.”

You giggle against his lips before he pushes himself off of you and goes into the ensuite to grab you a washcloth. Your affectionate urge to always be around him awakens and sends you to the bathroom, but when you stand from the bed, pain shoots down your sore legs and your knees give out. You’re left to gravity to fall to the floor with a small squeal and a soft thud.

The door to the bathroom quickly opens as he looks for the cause of the sudden noise, finding you on the floor in front of him. “What do you think you’re doing?” He chuckles.

“Following you,” you blush and look down at the carpet. You’ve always tried to subside your natural clinginess in fear that it will annoy Remus.

You heel hands wrapping under your arms and you’re hoisted off the floor. “You’re my lost puppy, aren’t you?” He teases, making you giggle. A sound he could listen to on repeat for the rest of his life, a sound he’s never planning on losing. He puts you down so your weak legs hand off the edge of the bed. “Would you wait here just a moment please, love?” He says, adoration filling his voice. He steps back into the bathroom and comes back with two washcloths, a warm on and a cold on. He uses the cold one first, wiping the sweat and left over make up off your face. A moment later you take the rag from him so you can wipe his sweaty forehead, too, but you gasp and whine in surprise as the warm cloth rubs between your legs. “I’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes and kisses you sweetly. You run your hands over his head, flattening his hair down as you kiss him back, never wanting to stop, and he finished cleaning the mess he had made of the two of you. “I’m going to take these and the other clothes to the laundry real quick, love,” he tells you before kissing your head and leaving the room.

You build all of your strength to get up and go to the closet in search of clean underwear for you both, stopping dead in your tracks when a poorly hidden velvet box in his drawer peaks at you from between the socks. You pick is up carefully and open the box, a ring perfect for you sat in the fold. You cup your hand over your mouth to hide any noise you might make, but your heart is in your throat as it bursts with love, and you couldn’t make a sound if you tried.

“Shit,” Remus curses behind you, having come back into the room silently. He rushes over to you and moves to take the box from your hands, but his hands stop, resting over yours as he looks at you staring at the ring, mesmerized. “You weren’t supposed to see that, yet,” he says and laughs softly, nervous of your reaction because your face is so blank, he can’t get a clue. 

“Then… I’ll just pretend I didn’t,” you give him a small smile, but one that shows him your whole heart. You pull your hands back from his, leaving him to hold the box as you slip on your fresh panties and climb back into the bed. He looks to you, surprised you’re not questioning it, but your sat in the center of the bed with your arms held out to him and a goofy pout placed on your lips as your hands grab at the air.

He sighs happily, places the velvet box unhidden in his closet, and pulls on fresh boxers before climbing into your arms. Your fingers slide into his hair and scratch at his scalp as he lays his head on your belly.

After a moment of comfortable silence and his mind not settling, he lifts his head and looks up at you, seeing your eyes are closed. He calls your name softly. You hum, informing him you’re awake. Remus climbs further up the bed, laying on his side facing you to your left. His hand grazes your cheek as he pushes hair out of your face.

“I love you. I have never felt this much of one feeling before I met you. I’m so in love with you that it terrifies me, and I don’t know what to do. But you’ve changed me, you’ve made me a better man. I can’t imagine a future without you as my wife and with our kids running around. I never knew how to bring it up before,” he pauses a moment, trying to find the right words as he asks you the big question on a sudden limb. “I’ve just been to scared. I don’t know why, because you’ve never done anything but love and support me, and I couldn’t ask for better. I was with Sirius to find you the ring, and try to plan a romantic moment to ask you to marry me, I just didn’t want it to be so close to the full moon.”

You take a moment, considering everything he’s said and your chest swells with love and pride. “What about ‘James’?” You ask, being stuck on the one thing he said. When he pulls away from you completely and sits up, you open your eyes, startled. He’s looking at you with all the confusion in the world. “Oh my god!” You gasp. “That came out so wrong. I meant as a name! Merlin, the things you do to me — beyond amazing — exhaust me. I can’t speak correctly.” You let out a breathy laugh as you look for his reaction, a smile growing onto his face.

“You mean, like, a baby name?” He asks you.

You nod at him, smiling, and his shoulders relax as he lays next to you again.

“No, no,” he says after a moment. “I don’t want the product of my love for you to constantly remind me of my idiot best friend.”

“Okay, so ‘Sirius’ is also off the table,” you giggle.

“What about our parents names?” Remus asks as he turn to you, pulling you into him as his little spoon. 

“So the product reminds us of our parents?”

He laughs at your rebuttal, and you smile. “Good point.” He presses his lips to your temple. “I guess we have time to figure it out.” He sighs in contempt as he buries his face in the back of your neck.

“For now,” you agree.

“So that’s a yes?” He picks his head up quickly to ask. “You’ll marry me?”

You turn in his arms, facing him and grabbing both his cheeks in your hands, purposely squishing his face a little. “Of course, you big oaf,” you laugh and kiss the love of your life.

[eleni-cherie]

8 mile ✨ || myg au - chapter 1.1

"Thanks to you I could make my dream come true."

first time yoongi laid eyes on soyeon was eight years ago, at a rap battle in a rundown club. how could they know the effect they would have on each other ever since?

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masterlist: here

— genre: musicians au, romcom, humour, fluff, angst, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

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Soyeon was sitting in her studio. Reading through the edited lyrics Bomi and Yoongi had sent her respectively for two different songs.

The song she was working on with Bomi was one of her demo tracks. It was mostly already finished, only needed some polishing here and there. It would become the 3rd track on her EP. If she had to describe it, she would say it's a chill dream pop melody. She first wasn't sure whether to include it or not, but everyone who had listened to the demo seemed to like it and encouraged her to do so.

The song she was working on with Yoongi was a newly written one. She had composed the beat and melody from scratch. Although the melody wasn't completed yet, with which Yoongi was also helping her out, the main parts were. It'd be the first out of five songs. She also planned to make it the title track. She wasn't completely sure yet though. It depended on how the end product would turn out to be.

Her eyes fell on the corner of her display. Almost 9pm. It wasn't that late. However, after having had several meetings that day. From the overall concept of her album and debut, to possible style inspirations with stylists and photographers and then meetings regarding her songs themselves with the executive producer and some others.

It had been a quite tiring meeting marathon, but it was alright. After all, she had insisted in being involved in everything. She had very clear visions about almost everything. Still, that had left her with too little time to actually sit down and work on her music.

She sighed. She could just work all night long on it and sleep on the couch. However, a somewhat guilty feeling arose inside her when contemplating to do so. Yoongi's words lingering in her memory. He had advised her or rather warned her from letting this becoming a habit. And while she hadn't promised him anything, she felt like following his advice for some reason. It was stupid. She didn't have to listen to him. And yet something inside her told her to do it nonetheless.

Shaking her head, she propped her forehead with her hand. She was feeling dizzy all of a sudden. Perhaps she really shouldn't overdo it and just go home.

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Soyeon knocked on the milk glass door of Yoongi's studio. Realising then it was a dumb move as the studios were soundproofed and he probably couldn't hear anything happening outside of it. So instead she pressed the doorbell next to it. Waiting patiently for him to open.

"Oh hey," he greeted her. Seemingly surprised to see her there. Even though she had asked him, if she could come over to discuss some things. Regarding the song they were working on together. "Hey.. are you busy?" "No, no. Come in." He stepped inside and she silently followed. Watching him sit down back on his seat as she closed the door behind her. Almost disappearing in the big hoodie he was wearing. Looking quite cozy. She shook her head. "What are you working on?" "Nothing special. Just some of my own songs," he mumbled and saved some files. Redirecting his attention to her then. "So, what's the matter?"

However, Soyeon's blank expression told him she was somewhere else right now. At least mentally. Seemingly lost in thoughts. "Eh, oh right!" she suddenly exclaimed then. "About the hook, I wanted to.." She trailed off again, making him frown. "Is everything o-" "You also write songs for yourself?" she interrupted him then. His eyes widened at her random question. Slowly nodding. She hummed. A mischievious smirk spreading over her features as she gave him an alluring look. Reminding him even more of a cat. And he laughed, getting were she was heading to. "Maybe I'll show you one later. What about the hook?" "Forget about the hook," she said, staring at him with flaming eyes. "What songs are they? Are you rapping in them? Have you released any of them? Although.. no, I'd have found out if D-boy had released anything all those years.."

He snorted, folding his arms in front of his chest. "What a curious cat." "Oh, c'mon. Now I really am curious. I only know the music you write for others. What about yours?" "God, you're so noisy," he whined and turned around in his chair in a poor attempt to escape her glare. Sighing then. She was stubborn. He had learned that. She wouldn't give up. "Fine. One song. And then you tell me about the hook." He could sense her face beaming up with joy behind his back. "See. I knew you'd like to show me after all," she giggled and squatted down next to him. Waiting for him to press play.

Loud trumpets started playing from the speakers. Almost startling her. They sounded like the announcement of a duell. She liked that kind of opening. It fitted the rest of the song. The lyrics telling the story of someone having a duell with themselves. She was impressed. Not only with the song itself though.

She peeked at Yoongi, who was silently staring at the changing frequencies and sound waves. She was most impressed with his rap. His technique was quite.. interesting. It was the first time hearing it after all those years. It had evolved a lot. It was like hearing it for the first time. And in a way, it was.

"So," he said then, abruptly pressing pause in the middle of the song. Taking her aback. "Now the hook." Soyeon was still trying to process what she had just listened to, shaking her head. "Uh-yeah. I sent you the file." As he was looking for the audio, she stood up from her previously squatting position. Her thighs starting hurting by now. Instead she sat down on the black leather couch behind her. Observing his back.

"I liked your song, by the way," she mumbled then. Unsure if he was even paying attention or listening as he just mumbled an 'uh, thanks'. "Why are you doing this?" "Doing what?" "Helping me with my stuff. I know you're busy with other, bigger projects.." "I guess.. it's to thank you." "Thanke me?" she giggled confused. "Thank me for what?" "You know.." he sighed. His hands coming to an halt as he rested them on the keyboard. He turned around then. And he seemed shy all of a sudden. Which confused her even more. His gaze unsteady, looking away. "..thanks to you I could make my dream come true."

His statement made her frown. Raising more questions than answers. "..huh??" Her clueless expression making him chuckle. "What do you mean?" "I mean," he started then. His voice suddenly raised as he turned around in his desk chair. "I mean that if you hadn't left back then, at the rap battle, I wouldn't have won the money to buy my first midi. Duh." "Really?" For a moment her face was filled with amusement and joy. "Glad my chosen defeat helped you at least," she complained jokingly, while folding her arms. Her expression then falling. Her eyes went to the ground. "Oh, wait. Is that the only reason you hang out with me?"

"Of course not," he huffed without even turning around to look at her. Being oblivious to her saddened mood. "I obviously like hanging out with you." Her gaze wandered up to the back of his head. And at the small mullet forming on the back of his neck. She liked the way the wavy streaks were brushing over it. Almost covering it. He was back at analysing the file she had sent him. Listening closely to the C-sharp minor key composition. And she smiled. "I like hanging out with you, too." For some reason it made him laugh under his breath. Not adverting his eyes from the screen. "You sure? Sometimes I think I'm just annoying you." "Maybe. A little," she teased. "But I like your company. I like you."

»»»

next chapter: here

[taephilia]

lost (myself) & found (you)

pairing: jeon jungkook x gn!reader

genre: fluff, soulmate au, based off of kimi no na wa

warnings: one (1) swear word

word count: 2,120

a/n: i saw this quote from the movie and inspiration just struck and i haven't been able to get it out of my head since. ofc i wrote this for jungkook since he's a weeb and said he would also want to hear bells ring when he meets his soulmate <3 also this is not edited lol i'll come back to it later, i just wanted to get this out

"Once in a while when I wake up, I find myself crying. The dream I must’ve had I can never recall. But… the sensation that I’ve lost something, lingers for a long time after I wake up." - Tachibana Taki, Kimi No Na Wa (2016)

Jungkook isn’t sure how long he’s felt like this—felt like something is missing, something important, something that his heart just can’t seem to let go of even if his brain has already forgotten. He knows that he dreams of whatever it is. He recalls scenes as he goes about his day; a loud laugh here, a brush of a hand against his there. People that he’s never seen before walking by him in a city he’s never been to, music playing on the radio that he’s never heard, a family that he comes home to that he doesn’t recognize at all. It’s all very strange and Jungkook is starting to wonder if maybe the late night ramen he’s built up a habit of eating has gone bad or maybe the unhealthy amounts of salt in it are the cause behind this. Because it was all fun and games until Jungkook’s heart starts to ache, like it’s calling out to someone that his brain can’t even conjure up an image for. Someone that he would search the ends of the cosmos for, someone that, whenever he feels like he gets close to them, slips right through his fingers like grains of sand. But he shakes it off whenever the feeling comes and ignores the heavy feeling in his chest in favor of paying attention to that day’s classes. If he had somehow found his soulmate, it definitely wouldn’t be someone in his hometown in the countryside.

Soulmate. That’s who his grandfather had told him he’s been dreaming about ever since Jungkook confessed almost two months ago about the reason behind his ever-present furrowed brows and faraway look in his eyes. He says that it had happened to him when he was around Jungkook’s age but, like most dreams, he’s forgotten who it was. He then went on to talk about the red thread of fate and that’s when Jungkook started tuning out. It’s a nice concept to think about when you’re a child—a red string tied around your pinky that connects you to the person that you’re destined to be with—but it’s just a myth and Jungkook doesn’t have time to think about things that aren’t real. Not when he barely has the time to think about the things that are real, like college entrance exams and graduating from high school.

So he buries his head in his books and pours every last drop of blood, sweat, and tears into his studies to get into his dream college in Seoul. The yearning in his heart doesn’t go away but it’s eclipsed by the pure exhaustion that he feels at the end of every day. And, like most dreams, he forgets.

Jungkook is 23 when he seriously begins to wonder whether or not he’s going crazy. He had thought he was going over the deep end while in college but hearing bells go off? Now that takes the cake. It happens at random; he never knows when the bells in his head will ring (and Jungkook knows that only he can hear them because nobody around him ever gives any sort of indication that they’ve heard them) no matter how much he tries to prepare for it. He checks his surroundings every day, eyes scanning over the crowds of people weaving around him in Seoul, but it’s no use. The only consistent location that they seem to chime in is when he’s on the metro and even then, it’s on random days, at random times, and not always at the same stop.

He’s not the type to go chasing after fairy tales, or at least, he isn’t anymore. He doesn’t have time to think hard and long about what these imaginary bells could mean, not when he has a job to do and people to impress and money to be made. And his grandfather died during his second year of college so the only conversation of “soulmates” that occurs now are the ones he has with himself in his head and the memories of their conversations years ago. But as fate would have it, Jungkook took a couple of days off to get an early start to the weekend and he is just itching for an adventure. So when he hears the bells go off while he’s making his way to his connecting train, he closes his eyes for a brief moment and puts himself into the hands of fate.

Jungkook allows his feet to carry him where they want, observing his surroundings and keeping an eye out for any person who gives any sort of indication to hearing something that they shouldn’t be hearing. He climbs up the stairs and out of the station, not giving any attention to the people who side-eye him for standing still on a bustling sidewalk, but looks down at his hand instead. In particular, at his pinky, which feels like there’s something squeezing at it. Like… like a thread that’s been tied snugly around it.

The red thread of fate, a voice in his head whispers to him and Jungkook almost chuckles out loud at the thought. And then almost laughs out loud again because, although he doesn’t believe in soulmates, his actions say otherwise. Because as much as Jungkook doesn’t believe in soulmates… Well, the thought of them and the red thread of fate being real is nice, isn’t it? Someone that you’re destined to be with, connected to by a string that can tangle and stretch but will never fray, keeping you tied to them for all eternity. It’s a comforting thought, especially when he thinks of his extremely lacking love life that comes with his high standards and fear of rejection.

Jungkook passes by a bakery during his fate-led walk and just as he’s considering stopping in to buy something, he hears the bells again. A light sound, one that could be mistaken for a phone notification, but one that he knows very well. But Jungkook’s soulmate must be as used to the sound as he is because no one around him gives any sort of indication that they’re also in search of him. And after an hour and a half of walking around a part of the city that he isn’t too familiar with, he’s ready to call it quits for the night. So Jungkook makes his way to the nearest metro station and gets on a train home.

Of course, that’s when he hears the bells again.

He looks up from his phone and around the crowded train but nobody has been able to move since the doors closed. And if it were someone near him, he would have heard them before. There’s a flash out of the corner of his eye and when Jungkook looks up and out the window of the sliding doors, he sees a pair of eyes staring back. A pair of eyes that are not his but in fact belong to someone in a train traveling right next to his. They stare right at him and mirror his own when they widen at the exact same time as his. But just as soon as Jungkook finds you, he loses you just as quickly when your train goes in a different direction.

Jungkook spends the entire day the next day looking for you. He manages to cross off everything on his “things to do when I’m in Seoul” bucket list that he’s been adding on to for the past 10 years. His feet hurt, his wallet feels significantly lighter than when he first left his apartment, and he’s wondering how much weight he lost from walking what feels like the entire expanse of Seoul three times over. And even after all that, he hasn’t heard the bells. Not once.

And it’s at this point, when Jungkook decides to eat dinner at his favorite ramen shop before calling it a night, that he begins to wonder if he had missed his chance last night. Not like it was much of a chance considering the fact that you were on a different train and he had no way of getting to you. But fate is cruel, isn’t that what some people say? Maybe his thread is just so tangled, so frayed, that it’ll take a lifetime before he’s able to get another glimpse at you. And Jungkook just isn’t that patient.

He can barely even remember what you look like anymore. Maybe it’s the hunger eating away at his stomach and the aching of his feet but as he eats his ramen, he can only recall vague details about you. Like how he wants to drown in your eyes, how soft your skin looks even through two dirty train door windows, and how he thinks your shiny hair probably smells nice - like vanilla or peaches or something. But your face? Absolutely nothing. It’s like he blacked out the second he looked up at you last night.

Jungkook leans back in his seat as he sips at his water, staring out the window of the shop as if you would walk past right that second. But you don’t. So Jungkook throws a couple of bills down onto the table for a tip and heads out, a sigh leaving his lips when he looks around but doesn’t hear any bells. Now that he’s had a chance to sit down and eat, he feels a bit more rational and more determined to find you—but that can wait until tomorrow after he’s had a good night’s sleep. It’s a bit later in the evening so there’s barely anyone around him as he makes his way to the nearest metro station that will take him home. Jungkook is just about to descend the stairs when something makes him stop. He’s not really sure what it is that he stops for; the bus honking on the street beside him or the group of friends laughing as they walk by him? Or perhaps it’s the person at the bottom of the stairs, their eyes looking down as they climb up, but Jungkook just knows that it’s you.

Well, he doesn’t actually know. He’s pretty sure it’s you. It feels like it’s you. But is that fate talking or just his hopeful heart? Jungkook decides not to say anything and slowly walks down the stairs. The bells will tell him if he’s right. Your eyes glance up and meet his and Jungkook sees them widen, but like him, you don’t say anything. Are you waiting to hear your own bells?

He shoves his hands deep into the pocket of his hoodie, eyes quickly darting away from yours to stare holes into the ground as he keeps walking. His heart beats faster with every step and he has to resist the urge to just stare at you point blank because he needs to know and-

He hears the bells. And it’s like a weight is taken off of his shoulders.

But he keeps walking. And you keep walking. And now Jungkook is panicking because why the fuck is he still walking? You’re his soulmate, he found you, so why isn’t he stopping? Jungkook tries to get his feet to stop moving, to just turn around and call out to you but he can’t. What would he even say? ‘Hey, you’? He doesn’t even know your name. ‘I think you’re my soulmate’? How disgustingly cliche. What if you don’t even care that he’s your soulmate? What if you’re already seeing someone? What if he’s the only one that can hear the bells for you and you hear them for someone else? What if-

“Um, excuse me?”

Jungkook almost trips on the last step from how fast he turns around at the sound of your voice. His hands feel clammy but he keeps them in his pocket otherwise you’d be able to see how they’re shaking ever so slightly. He drags his eyes up to yours and suddenly, every bit of anxiety he felt is suddenly gone. Is this what it’s supposed to feel like?

“Have we met before? You seem really familiar.”

You’re at the top of the stairs now but you step down a few steps, as if you want to get closer. Jungkook climbs back up a few steps because he does want to get closer. There’s an easy smile on his face as he says, “Found you.”

He isn’t sure where it came from. He isn’t even exactly sure what he means. But it feels like the right thing to say, like something that he’s vaguely remembering from a dream he had a long time ago. And judging from the matching smile on your own face, you know what Jungkook means.

“Took you long enough.”

[99zmist]

when you love someone — jung wooyoung.

— “in your eyes and in my eyes, we'll remember forever. it'll be the most brilliant darkness in our eyes; wrap me around, my aurora.”

pairing: jung wooyoung x female!reader

word count: 4.2k

genre: (18+) angst, fluff, smut. AU.

warnings: filthy sex, dirty talk, oral (M receiving), unprotected sex, strong language, profanity, not much of an established relationship and mc can’t make up her mind.

additional notes: this is honestly based on a dream i had of san last night, and i couldn’t seem to get him out of my head after that. (i swear it was the fluff parts that i dreamt about) i wrote this in one sitting, and i already proofread this but mistakes are still unavoidable—so if you happen to come across some, please don’t mind lol i’ll edit it again after.

enjoy reading, i would greatly appreciate it if you leave feedback when you finish. thank you! xo

dedicated to: @neo-shitty​

you weren’t actually in a good place to begin with.

you felt like your school performance in university was dropping fast, how overwhelmed you always seemed when there were so much tasks to do; you barely had any support system coming from your friends, and your family was miles away and the only comfort you had from them was through video call. san was the only person who kept your feet on the ground, but even he strayed away from you as time went on. he wasn’t committed to you in a sense, but there was something going on between the both of you—a mutual understanding on the feelings of both parties, but that’s just about it. he’d be sweet to you, make love, make you feel like there’s something lingering in the way he stared, but at the end of the day he wasn’t committed to you—nor did he make the effort to.

maybe, those were also the reasons why it hurt so much when he started getting distant. of course you’d be attached to him—how can you not? try being around someone for almost a year, validating your feelings and making you feel whole, just for them to drop you right in the middle of your own battle with chaos.

then again, life goes on.

even without san being by your side until the last months of university, you still managed to push through. you graduated with a degree in BS Nursing, not with latin honors like you originally planned, but at least hell was over, right? you had a new chance to begin again, maybe start your hospital duties in another city, have a complete do-over of yourself and maybe try to find love again.

so you did.

after a few months, you settled in your new apartment in seoul after finding a job, and in between that timeframe you met wooyoung just around the hustling and bustling streets of dongdaemun market when you were shopping for new clothes. you always thought meeting a potential lover would never be like in those rom com cliches you’ve watched—but as hilarious as you thought it would be, your encounter with wooyoung was just like that. just like any other meeting, you both collide by coincidence when your co-worker who wanted to meet up with you was also meeting up with him to return something he borrowed.

you weren’t exactly sure how the both of you clicked, but within the next few weeks it involved him making time for you despite your hectic schedule, being with you even if you were busy reading additional information from nursing textbooks, to picking you up after your shifts. it wouldn’t even matter what time you got off the hospital—whether if it was 5 pm in the afternoon or 3 am in the morning—he’ll be there. if you weren’t too tired yet, he’d ask for your permission if he could take you on a ride just to keep your mind off the stress from work. he’ll spend most of the time in your apartment than his, cooking for you after a long day, and just be an additional support system while you tried to figure things out on your own.

wooyoung had always been patient with you, and not once did he get upset when you pushed him away in nights where things got hard on yourself, or even if it involved stress from work. he’d just give you your space to clear your head, or give you a comforting hug in the middle of the room just for you to relax around his embrace.

when your relationship with him deepened and he decided to ask permission if he could court you, you said yes. however, you also decided to open up more to him about the previous person you loved. you told him about san, and all he did was listen on your part. you could see the way his eyebrows knitted together in frustration at the parts where san treated you differently, but he kept his mouth shut and respected your space to just keep going.

then finally, you tell him you still haven’t moved on.

for a brief moment, wooyoung’s understanding facade vanishes. it was just for a split second—barely noticeable if you didn’t look hard enough—but to your surprise, you did. you noticed how he faltered a little bit, but you also couldn’t help but discern the way his lips curl into a smile afterwards.

“thank you for being honest with me,” he says, reaching forward to gently touch your hair, then your cheek. you’d lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering close for a bit. “i’m sorry for what you had to go through. but, y/n–” at the mention of your name, you open your eyes to find him looking down at you. “i won’t make you enter something you’re not ready for.”

“woo,” the tone in your voice was soft with a tinge of diffidence, and it was you this time who moved closer to wrap your arms around his torso, leaning against his chest as you heaved in a breath. “it’s okay. not once did it seem like you’re forcing me to. you’ve always been so good to me. this doesn’t mean that i don’t feel anything for you—i just… i can’t decide what i want yet and i’m sorry for making things complicated as it is.”

wooyoung takes in your words with a purse of his lips and a nod, before wrapping his arms around you as well he buries his head at the crook of your neck. you stay like that for a moment—standing in the middle of your bedroom—feeling just like any other night with him, engulfed in his warm and gentle embrace.

“y/n.” he mutters against your skin, and you hum in response as you rub soothing circles on his back.

“can i ask one selfish favor?”

you pull away slightly to meet his eyes, and for a moment you search for something in his gaze. he still had that gentle expression, and his eyes still looked like it held the entire universe as it glimmered brightly when he stared at you. trying to catch your breath, intoxicated by his gaze, you nod.

wooyoung reaches for your hands this time, clasping them in between his large ones. “just... just stay with me,” he says. “it’s okay if you haven’t moved on from san yet. let me prove to you that i won’t go anywhere. just please stay with me too.”

you had feelings for him. you liked wooyoung so much. but that’s what scared you—you were more terrified with what you feel for him than what he felt for you. you thought you were indecisive enough to not know what you truly feel, but you do know. and you knew deep within you that jung wooyoung was someone you wanted to be with—just not at the moment. you didn’t want to drag him over your chaotic and messy feelings, for you knew you needed to fully move on first and heal, and then you can be with him.

“okay,” you finally respond, smiling softly at him. “i’ll stay with you. i won’t be going anywhere either.”

the first kiss you had with him swept you off your feet.

it happened during christmas eve when you and wooyoung had a mini celebration at your place. you were already done spending time with your family a few days ago, so you gave your time to be with wooyoung that night. the two of you exchanged gifts; and as he opened the one you gave, his smile was so wide and heart-fluttering the moment his eyes landed on the beautiful pair of earrings inside the small box. he hugs you tightly, repeating words of gratitude all over again and peppering soft kisses all over your face.

“wooyoung,” you giggled, playfully pushing his face away as your face burned. “stop! you’re making me blush.”

when it was your turn to open the gift, you were in awe when you saw the gold necklace. you returned the hug, mentioning how you thought it was too much and you didn’t deserve it. wooyoung scoffed and shook his head, telling you all the obvious reasons why you did.

“that’s a good thing, then?” he teases, sitting back up straight. you roll your eyes, sticking your tongue out at him. chuckling under his breath, he reaches over and hands you another small box.

in the middle of his loud rambling, you just stare at him until you move forward—grabbing the sides of his head before pulling him in for a kiss. it startled him, and the feeling of your soft lips against his made his stomach churn. it doesn’t take long when he kisses you back, suddenly finding it hard to breathe as he does so. his mind was blaring out alarms as the kiss deepened.

the woman he loves was kissing him right then and there, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

that same night, the two of you cuddled underneath the sheets, his arms around you while his index finger traced circles on your arm. you would fall asleep first, feeling safe in his embrace. wooyoung would have his eyes open for another hour, just staring at you and planting soft kisses on your nose when he had the chance.

he loves you too much.

he was hoping if you already felt the same.

“is your shift done? i’ll come pick you up.” wooyoung says on the phone as you walk down the hospital corridors, greeting your senior doctors and other fellow nurses along the way.

“saeyeon offered to drive me home, so don’t worry,” you reply, walking inside the locker room. wooyoung lets out a little hum of acknowledgement. “do you want me to buy anything at the store before i come home? do you want some take out food?”

he chuckles, and you could feel his warm smile from the other line. “i already cooked us dinner. having you home is all i want.”

you felt your cheeks burn once again at his attempt of flirting, and you ended up scoffing at his response. wooyoung laughs loudly, “no clap back? did i make you blush again?”

“shut up or you won’t see me coming home tonight.” you warn, but the playful tone in your voice was so evident that all he could do was to burst into laughter. of course you were joking—he was the only one you’d come home to, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

    once saeyeon drops you off, you thank her, pressing your cheek against hers before you get out of the car. you always took the stairs when coming home, but tonight, you decided to take the elevator. the eagerness to see wooyoung was exciting—and you thought, ‘okay. this is good.’ it was good in a sense because you were finally opening up your love for him, and after a year of being courted by him and being with him, you felt like you were ready again.

this time, for a love that wasn’t temporary. 

you wanted him. you were starting to accept your love for him.

so as the elevator doors opened and you arrived at your floor, you quickly made your way to the door to unlock it. when you walk in, you find wooyoung sitting on the couch watching a drama on the television—but his attention immediately diverts to you the moment you entered.

there it was. the wide smile on his face and the sparkle in his eyes whenever he looked at you.

“hi.” he greets softly when he stands up.

“hey.” you smile, and you drop your bags on the floor before rushing forward to engulf him in a hug. he stumbles back in surprise, but is quick to hug you back as he presses a soft kiss on top of your head.

“you okay? how was work?” wooyoung asks, still holding you there. it doesn’t take long to realize that being held like that felt so nice—how gentle he has his arms around you as if you were the most fragile thing he has ever held. “did you have any troublesome patients today?”

you shake your head, pulling him closer. “no. i just felt really excited to come home.”

wooyoung doesn’t say anything in return, but he felt his heart fluttering at what you said. pulling away from the embrace, he leads you to the kitchen where dinner was prepared, and the two of you eat while mentioning what else happened throughout the day.

    that night, you found yourself in wooyoung’s arms once again, kissing passionately underneath the moonlight shining through your bedroom window. you had one hand on his cheek and the other at the back of his neck—pulling him closer as you deepened the kiss. you can hear him grunt when you do so, but he kisses you back with the same amount of intensity. on most nights, it would only involve make-out sessions followed by cuddling near the fireplace, but tonight, you wanted to move further.

as much as it scared you a bit, you wanted him. you wanted to feel him. you wanted to love him.

wooyoung hovers on top of you before pulling away from the kiss, as he presses his lips against your neck, nipping on your skin that would make sure to leave hickeys and bruises behind. you bite your lip to muffle a moan, your hand gripping his bicep. he slips his hand into your shirt, and you shiver—whining slightly at the contact, before he breaks away for a moment to pull your shirt over your head, revealing your breasts. the way he looked at you was enough to feel yourself pool with wetness in between your thighs, and it doesn’t take long until he pulls you in for a kiss again.

you kiss him back sloppily, shifting your leg only to feel the growing bulge in his jeans, making you moan between his lips. he grazes his teeth on your bottom lip slightly, fumbling with taking off your bra. you assist him, stealing another set of wet kisses in between. you throw your bra towards the floor, and you exhale the moment wooyoung take your breasts in his hands, groping and squeezing them before taking one in his mouth. you moan loudly, arching your back as he swirls his tongue around your nub while squeezing and pinching the other. you were a writhing mess beneath him, but you loved every second of it.

when he pulls away, you whine at the loss of contact, but watch quietly as he sits up and fumbles on his own belt. however, he pauses for a moment before looking back at you—and between the lust-filled gaze, he softens for a moment.

“y/n,” he calls out, weighing out the current situation. “are you sure?”

you sit up on the bed as well, and you give him a soft, lingering kiss as a confirmation. “wooyoung, i’m–” nodding your head, you exhale softly. “i’m sure.”

he nods, pulling his jeans down and disregarding them on the floor. his hard cock springs up, slapping against his lower abdomen as he hisses slightly against his breath. pre-cum was already leaking on his slit, and you couldn’t help but smirk, only for wooyoung to groan when you wrap your smaller hand around his member before pumping him slowly. he bucks his hips forward, the tip of his cock smacking slightly against your lips—making you pout, trying to hide the grin on your face.

“so needy,” you tease, still pumping him at a slower pace. wooyoung squirms for a bit, and you click your tongue. “maybe if you behave for me, i’ll suck on your cock like a good girl.”

your dirty talk made wooyoung’s member throb even more, his veins pulsing as his muscles tensed. he moans, breathing heavily as he grips the sheets impatiently. “please, please, please,” he bites his lower lip. “please, y/n. suck me off like a good girl.”

the feeling of dominance made you aroused even more, as the wetness pools your panties. that doesn’t faze you, as you kept your eyes on wooyoung. “since you asked so nicely.” you respond, and it takes you time to lick the sides of his shaft, up to the tip, then you finally take him in your mouth. wooyoung lets out a low moan of your name, before hissing and groaning as you found a certain momentum. you grip on his thighs as you continue sucking his cock, gagging slightly when you’re met with his thrusts.

“that’s it,” wooyoung coos, throwing his head back as he moans. “that’s my best girl.”

you stay in that position, hollowing your cheeks as you feel him twitch inside of you. you graze your teeth slightly against his skin, taking him into the brim, throwing him off guard as he mutters profanities and praises under his breath.

when wooyoung felt like he was close to the edge, he put his hands on your shoulders before pushing you away slightly. you look up at him with a confused expression, a bit of saliva and pre-cum drooling from the corners of your mouth. he leans down, keeping his gaze steady with yours.

“i need to be inside you.” wooyoung announces, and you smile at him before pushing his hair back—wiping the sweat off his forehead.

you give him another kiss, “then fuck me senseless, jung wooyoung.”

this was all wooyoung needed to hear, and it sets something within him that seemed like you switched another persona. he pushes you back down on the bed, before taking your panties off. when he notices that the fabric was drenched with your wetness, he couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath.

“why won’t you look at that? my best girl wet already?” he teases, and you glare at him, finding yourself getting impatient as you whine his name. “alright, alright.”

he uses his fingers to spread your folds, making you squirm at the sudden contact. he smirks, before testing the waters as he pushes 2 fingers inside of you. you moan loudly, arching your back but wooyoung shushes you, placing a hand on top of your tummy as he kisses the soft skin gently—pumping in and out while inserting a 3rd one.

when you are already stretched out, he pulls his fingers out before aligning the tip of his cock in your entrance. “if it gets too much, just tell me okay?” he whispers, and you nod, hooking your arms around his as he finally thrusts inside of you. the both of you let out strangled moans, and you can’t help but feel so full. wooyoung moves, fucking you achingly and teasingly slow for a moment, before finally picking up his pace.

“fuck, fuck, fuck! wooyoung!” 

with every thrust, you felt like you were brought into oblivion. your eyes roll at the back of your head in pleasure, nails raking his back as you cling unto him with your might. he kisses your neck, biting and sucking down on your skin—the feeling of overstimulation at the pits of your stomach. you meet his lips halfway, kissing him fervently as a tear slips off your cheek. wooyoung notices this, and he immediately slows down, before cupping your face with one hand as he frowns.

“why are you crying? am i going too rough?” he asks, worry lacing his voice, but you quickly shake your head no as you squeeze his bicep reassuringly.

“no, i’m okay, just keep going.”

so he does, and the following minutes were nothing but pure bliss. the way he thrusted into you deeply at a faster pace made your legs writhe in pleasure. your back arches as you continue to drag your nails down his back, as if marking him as yours. in between the passionate love making, you meet wooyoung’s gaze, and he gives you a smile before moaning again.

“i’m close…” you whimper, and he grunts, nodding.

“me too, baby,” he grumbles, catching his breath as his thrusts become sloppy. just when he was about to pull out, you stop him—shaking your head. he raises an eyebrow, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he hums. “what is it?”

“cum inside of me,” you tell him, and his eyes widen for a brief moment. “i’m on the pill, woo. it’s okay.”

he nods his head, and after a couple more thrusts, your body convulses as you orgasm, his name falling off your lips in a fit of moans. wooyoung comes after, and you hold his close while his warm release fills you to the brim. he presses one last kiss on your cheek as he withdraws, before he falls on the bed beside you, body now curved against yours.

this time, it was him who held you tight. the room had a smell so obvious to the aftermath of sex, and your sweaty bodies were pressed against each other while the soreness inside you started to seep in. neither one of you wanted to move and get up to take a shower, so you stay in that position for awhile—just your heavy breathing echoing around your bedroom.

“i love you.” the words slip off wooyoung’s lips so naturally, and upon hearing it, you tense.

all of the thoughts of wanting to be with him was threatening to be trashed at the back of your head again. suddenly, every want of commitment was flushed down the drain. here goes your indecisive thoughts once again—fucking you up more than earlier. you were sure you wanted to commit, but something was stopping you. you wanted to scream.

the fear grows inside of you again.

“y/n?” the worry in wooyoung’s tone was evident through the phone—and he sounded so out of breath that it didn’t take long for you to realize that he was running as if he was chasing after something. after someone. “y/n, where are you?” he asks, swallowing the lump in his throat. “why did the lady next door tell me you sold your apartment to someone else?”

“wooyoung,” you tried to keep steady breaths as your phone shook in your hand. “wooyoung, i’m sorry.”

“where the fuck are you?” he sounded so desperate, and the way his voice trembles made your heart sink. “y/n. stop this. whatever game you’re playing – this isn’t funny. come home. come back to me. whatever’s wrong—we can fix it. we can talk it out.”

“wooyoung–”

this was the first time you heard wooyoung in the brink of breaking down, and it sounded so evident through the phone that your chest tightened. “if this was about us, i’m sorry. was i moving too fast? did i do something you didn’t like? did i hurt you when we were–” he was rambling—and he was panic-stricken. nothing else seemed to register on his brain at the moment.

after a few moments, he breathes out, “was this about my confession?”

at this point, you started sobbing. “nothing’s wrong, wooyoung. i’m just… i’m still terrified.”

“you don’t have to worry about it, y/n. just please come back to me. i don’t need an answer now. you don’t have to say i love you back,” wooyoung pleads, tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes. “just come home.”

“i’ll just end up hurting you. you don’t deserve me. i can’t love you like this.”

“fuck, y/n! this is all bullshit, you’re already hurting me now! i told you it’s okay. i don’t care if you can’t give me an answer yet,” this time, wooyoung was already crying, and the way his sobs echoed on your speakers made you stop in your tracks as you grip the phone in your hand. “just tell me where you are and i’ll pick you up. turn on your gps for me baby, please.”

his pleads were left unanswered as you shake your head, tears streaming down your face as you stand in the middle of a busy airport.

“i’m sorry, woo.”

it takes a few more desperate pleads from wooyoung before you finally turn your phone off. the heaviness in your chest was unbearable, but you had no choice. you needed to take your attachment off him—you needed to fix yourself first. you didn’t know how long this ‘fixing’ would take, but you pray that if you cross paths with him again, he’s already healed from the pain you brought him.

i love you too, you thought, and the guilt of leaving wooyoung behind was fucking you up more than you thought it would. but i can’t love you now.

all rights reserved © to 99zmist.

[dancingazaleas]

miche zacharias | beauty & the beast

this is for @izukine ‘s ‘fairy tale and mythical creatures’ collab! love you so much liyah <333

tagging: @yeagerslut @xenihime @fiaficsxo @mitsuluv @sukunas-lady @onyxoverride @rintarouss (cus ur a miche fucker. sorry for not warning u abt the tag)

edit: this is unedited, i’m so sorry for any typos.

warnings/tags: cursing, eventual smut, smut, nsfw, romantic sex, size kink(i guess if u squint?), fingering, oral sex/cunnilingus, missionary sex, vanilla

miche was always just a little bigger than anyone around him. he stood like a skyscraper at 6’5, towering over all of his peers. he was more broad one would be at the chest, a tailor once said his bust was around 150 centimeters.

miche was seen as an absolute beast because of this. and it didn’t help that miche’s hair was shaggy, stubble coating his upper lip and jaw, and he had a sniffing problem. he thinks the nose is really what sold everyone.

and in effect, miche was feared. feared by the people in his village, and sometimes even by his own friends. the dark and looming castle he lives in was where he forced to, along with his companions that stood up for the meek man that they called a beast.

the village often sent people who they’ve decided to shun to his estate, expecting for the beast to kill them in cold blood.

in reality, he just sent them to the next village over. he didn’t feel like being disturbed.

it was nothing different when he saw you running to him, tears falling from your pretty eyes while consistently looking over your shoulder. behind you, he noticed a crowd with pitchforks along with torches, screaming for you to get back here to burn you at the stake.

“help!” you cry, “help!”

you stumbled over your own feet, hands clamping down onto his clothed biceps and sobbing while looking at him.

“the next village over is—“

“no! sir, no matter where i go,” you shake your head rapidly, “i will be hunted. hunted for reading the books!”

you looked so desperate clinging onto him, eyes flashing when you cry once more, “you’re the only one who can help me!”

he looks back to the crowd that nears the gates of his home, silently wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you to his chest. the crowd skids to a stop, especially when miche steps forward and manages to yank a pitchfork from their hands.

“this girl is with me,” he announces, jabbing at the air to back them up, “leave now or die.”

the crowd gapes at the sight of you gathered to his chest, but backs off nonetheless. there was nothing they could do against the man that they call a beast.

miche leads you into his home, introducing you to friendly faces that were spread across the house.

“what happened?! did you get rid of the—whoa-ho-ho! who’s this beauty, michey,” someone with messy brown hair exclaims, eyepatch covering their left eye.

“hanji! quit being so disrespectful,” a man follows behind them, tugging them by their shoulders from behind.

“this young maiden was followed by a mob. she read the forbidden books, based off of her words she’s said to me. they planned on hunting her down even if she goes to the next village over,” he leads you past them to a bathroom.

“that’s saddening,” a baritone voice said, the frown evident in his voice, “she's staying with us i’m assuming?”

if his voice wasn’t enough to make you feel small, his looks definitely were. a blond man with bushy eyebrows and a prosthetic arm stood in front of you with something that you can say was a gentle smile. behind him lingered a shorter man, bags hanging from his eyes, one of which had a scar running through it and down to his lip.

“no shit, erwin. miche isn’t heartless,” the crude words make you crack a smile.

miche ignores their comments, “where’s nanaba? she needs a bath and i don’t fully trust her to be alone.”

“what am i needed for,” a feminine person waltzes into the room, a light look on her face.

“this young maiden needs to be bathed with a loose eye on them,” nanaba gently takes your hands into their own.

“what?! why couldn’t i do it?!”

“because you can barely bathe yourself, shitty glasses,” levi grunts and sits on a plush couch in front of the warm fire. you notice he has two prosthetic fingers.

nanaba leads you away before you can hear hanji’s response. you open your mouth to ask a question, but find yourself stuck on what to address nanaba as.

“you can address me as whatever makes you comfortable,” you find that she’s peering at you from over her shoulder.

“oh! i’m so sorry,” you sniffle.

“don’t worry about it, you’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. now, what was on your mind?”

“that man… miche, i think the townspeople called him, he’s really kind. he saved me from being burned,” you murmur loud enough for her to hear, “why?”

nanaba took you into a bathroom room and shut the door behind her, “i can’t say i know. the last person he took in was levi, and it wasn’t exactly his choice, more of erwin’s. i think he smells something in you.”

“that’s right, the townspeople wrote that he had the nose of a dog.”

“he does. he’s usually able to tell if someone is good or not just by their scent,” she turns on the bath, “i think he likes you.”

you deny her statement with a laugh, fanning your hand just before you get undressed. you doubt that a beast such as himself could like someone like you.

————

months passed, and as the days went on you found yourself falling in love with miche. the same man who used ‘beauty’ as a nickname for you would bathe in how you’d give a bashful and swat his arm.

truly, he was more like a bear. big and scary, but also cuddly—as much as a bear could really be—and soft. miche had a heart of gold, that much was obvious when he started to wear it on his sleeve.

he cherished his time with you, even if others were around and he wanted you to himself. he loves the wandering gazes you give when you sit under the wisteria tree in his garden. the look of curiosity that brightens your face, eyes wide and staring at the world he used to think was cruel.

miche tried not to be a sap. he hadn’t ever since he was born, and he didn’t want to start now. but he couldn’t help it.

if the world that shamed him and hurt him was able to create such a kind yet sarcastic beauty, then maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought.

but he was scared of hurting you. in more ways than one. mentally, miche was a quiet and seemingly unaffectionate person, even with someone he loved. miche also had a tendency to be blunt at times, and it has made you upset on multiple occasions.

physically, however, miche’s terrified of being with you just because of it. as you’ve observed, miche isn’t exactly small..

but you practically make him feel as such.

especially right now as you crack jokes with him and teaching him how to waltz. it doesn’t help that you’re leading the dance and that he was stumbling over your feet.

“miche, step this way with me,” you’re incredibly patient.

“i’m scared i’ll step on your foot,” you give him a stare.

“you already have,” you laugh, “it’s okay if you step on my foot, you’ll get the hang of it.”

eventually, he’s able to synchronize his steps with your’s. you trade off the leadership to him, hands on his shoulders. he fumbles a lot more than before, leading to you fumbling over him as well. your shoe presses into his own, and you wince for him while muttering an apology. he’s about to tell you it’s fine, but before he can, he’s stepped on your dress. you yelp and instinctively cling onto miche as you fall onto miche’s bed, dragging him with you.

his arm is immediately at the small of your back and his other hand manages to hold himself up. you flop back onto the mattress when he takes his arm away, cheeks flushed red as he stared down at you.

you look so pretty under him, hair spread beneath you and hands laying next to your head palms up. your pretty lips are parted and your eyes are wide and fluttering.

when he realizes he’s staring, he starts to get ready to get off of you.

“wait!” you gently hold his biceps, stopping his once abrupt movement.

your arms reluctantly and slowly wrap around his neck, eyes darting continuously to his face and to your arms. miche’s breath gets caught in his chest when you pull his face closer to your’s.

“miche… can i kiss you,” you whisper, breath tickling his skin.

miche’s too afraid to speak, so he nods.

your lips start to tingling whenever they’re connected to miche’s heat embarrassingly shooting through your body and to your tummy.

when he pulls away, you accidentally let out a whimper and rub your thighs together. miche’s face lights up again at how needy you look underneath him.

he kisses you again, intertwining his fingers with yours and leaning his weight onto them. he subtly shimmies your body up the mattress, tongue poking at the inside of your mouth. it elicits a soft moan from you, the noise shooting sparks straight to miche’s cock.

“love you,” he sighs with his lips trailing down your neck, large hands shyly starting to grope at your chest.

“love you too,” you bite your lip, watching him undo the buttons at the front of your shirt.

“is this all okay,” his lips tickle your skin as he drags them across the skin of your collarbones.

“yes… yes,” you mumble, slipping out of the shirt and your bra and throwing it somewhere across miche’s room.

miche nibbles at the skin on your breasts, fingers pinching your nipples. you sigh dreamily, hips wiggling from where they lay on the bed. he kisses down your tummy and slips the skirt you’re wearing off of your body.

you’re wearing plain white panties, embarrassment hitting you like a truck. miche doesn’t seem to care at all though, just slips them down your leg and throws them somewhere in his room.

you put a hand on your chest when he spreads your legs, trying to regulate your almost erratic breathing. you couldn’t believe that this was even happening.

soft pecks tickle your calf, slowly trailing up to your thigh and to the trimmed hair of your labia. breaths grow heavy when his tongue hesitantly prods at clit, fingers digging themselves into the wild sheets of his bed.

after seeing your small flinches, miche closes his lips around the bud. you immediately throw your head back as he starts to suck and lick at it, electricity shooting down to your toes that are curled over his shoulders.

he slips a large finger into you, bending it with caution. you buck your hips with a throaty moan, sealing your eyes closed when miche picked up the velocity of his pace.

unlike with waltzing, miche was getting the hang of it fast. so fast that he’s already slipping a second finger into you, thrusting it at a teasing pace that wouldn’t be able to get you off.

you cry out, the scent of pleasure coating your entire body. it has miche groaning against your clit, a loud and desperate moan being let out in response.

miche’s slipping in a third finger, continuously thrusting in and out whilst curling them.

“miche! miche!” you let a hand get tangled in his hair, gently tugging as if you were trying to rut against his face.

“gonna cum—oh my god! i’m gonna cum,” you whine breathlessly and miche continues at his pace.

you cum seconds later, legs trembling from where they lay over his shoulders. he pulls away and immediately wipes away your juices off of his face with the back of his hand, immediately rewarding you with a sweet and passionate kiss on your lips. you whimper against his rough lips, fingers tugging at the shirt he still had on.

he chuckles when he pulls away, hastily taking off his seemingly elegant clothing and throwing the sheets over your bodies.

miche knew it was going to make you both hot. and miche knew he was paranoid of anyone walking in, even though he knew that everyone wouldn’t bother him. but still, the sheets acted as a shield from the world.

this time was only for the two of you, no one else.

his hand pumps his cock whenever he starts to guide it to your stretched out slit. you don’t exactly realize just how big miche actually is until the head of his cock is pushing into you.

the sting that shoots through your body is immediate, and you immediately cling onto his back. you bite your lip whenever he keeps slipping himself in, pausing when you’ve managed to get a quarter of his cock inside of you.

you pant as tears prick the corner of your eyes, trying to relax your obviously tense body as miche tries to distract you with soft and gentle kisses. he whispers how good you're doing, even rubbing circles into your clit with the pad of his thumb to help loosen the tension.

when you calm down and tell him that you're ready, he continues to slip into you with slowed movements. the stretch is more painful than before and as he slides deeper and deeper into you, you feel like his cock gets bigger with each inch. you stop him again, taking deep breaths and telling yourself that you can do it. you only had a few more inches left, then you would feel good.

when he finally bottoms out, your breath leaves your chest. it feels like he’s in your throat and the intense feeling makes you cry again.

“so full, ‘m so full miche,” you whimper while he wipes away the tears from your face.

“i know, love, it’ll feel good soon,” his voice soothes you.

when you calm down again, the realization at how every part of miche’s cock reaches you comes down upon you.

“m-move, please, move,” carefully wrapping your legs around his waist, you whisper in his ear.

his thrusts start off slowly and deep, moans falling from your lips each time he bottoms out and the tip of his cock hits your cervix. when he realizes that you’re alright, he speeds up his pace.

the way he ruts into you makes you produce a broken scream, scratching at his back and throwing your head back. you’re already starting to feel that certain knot in your tummy again, and you wanted to try to hold it back but the orgasm crashes into you unexpectedly.

you sound so broken underneath him, digging your nails into his skin and squeezing him close to you.

“fuck! thank you, thank you,” you sob, “love you, love your cock.”

he grunts in response, ignoring how your walls suffocate him. he doesn’t help you ride out the orgasm, only speeding up his pace to chase after his own orgasm.

you whine at the sound of his skin slapping against your’s, heat spreading down to your chest. you’re going to come again with the way miche jackhammers into you desperately.

“miche, miche! fuck—please!” your vision whites out as your body thrashes under miche’s hold.

miche can’t ignore how hard your walls grip onto his cock, groans spilling out of his mouth as his orgasm creeps over him.

he orgasms with a breathy grunt, grinding his hips into yours and pumping his cum into you.

when he comes down from the euphoric high, he kisses your lips. your eyelids are heavy after miche pulls his softening cock out of you.

“love you,” he mumbles against your skin after he’s fetched a wet rag and cleaned you up.

you hum in response, too tired and weak to even reciprocate with words. luckily, he knows what you were trying to say. he pulls you into his warm chest, a soft and satisfied hum falling from your lips.

you drift off with his hand rubbing your back. the last thing you remember thinking was that miche was definitely a beast in some aspects.

[tastyykpop]

Hiii Congrats on reaching the milestone💕💕love your blog btw!! Could you please do a Taeyong smut where he is kinda cold to her before but confesses after he becomes very jealous??

Hii ty so much u have no clue how much this means to me🥺

ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪᴅɪᴏᴛ

Pairings: tsundere!taeyong x reader

Genre: smut

Warnings: d/s themes, jealousy, possessiveness, marking, praising, a dash of spanking, fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex

I finished this at 4am so it's not edited 💔

"Lee Taeyong!!" You chased the dark haired boy down the side walk, never turning to look back as his name was called, "Wait for me please!"

He scoffed. Luckily you couldn't hear him. "What an annoying brat." Taeyong continued on, still ignoring you and your protests of him walking away.

Running as fast as you could to catch up was easier said then done. You held boba and your food from a nearby fast food restaurant in one hand, Taeyongs in another with your purse flopping against you. You wouldn't be in this situation if Taeyong scare you into holding his food for you, threatening you with a cold stare.

Yes, you and Taeyong are friends. It's odd because of how cold and almost rude he is with you, but you're somehow friends, at least you think you are. Some people say he's got a soft spot for you but you're not too sure anymore. One day hes calling you an idiot for not taking care of yourself and the next hes rolling his eyes at you and telling you to fuck off. Coming to the conclusion that maybe he only thinks of you as a friend, you started pushing him away recently and hung out with another friend of yours. Too bad because you may have had feelings for Taeyong too. Something about him made you want to stick around even though most of the time he didn't want you around.

"Goddammit Taeyong...wait up!"

As annoying as it was to be running with food and drinks in both hands, the most annoying part had to be the purse. It was big, heavy, and swayed with every step, bumping into your left arm ever millisecond. Why couldn't you just man up to Taeyong before?

"Bastard."

"Did you say something?"

"Huh- what!? When did you-" you tilted your head upwards to meet Taeyongs arched brow and impatient face. How did you not realize you caught up?

You pushed his food and drink into his chest and grumbled, "Here." And without waiting for Taeyong, you readjusted your purse and walked to your house with expectations that he would follow.

Taeyong frowned yet tailed you like a lost puppy.. He didn't have any plans catching up to you or telling you to wait for him and just admired you from behind. He liked the way your hair bounced over your shoulders with every step, the way your hips swayed as you walked. He even liked how long the skirt made your legs look even though you were tiny compared to him. Taeyong liked you without a doubt, but he wouldnt actually tell you that.

"Are you coming?" You opened the door to your house. Taeyong didn't answer, only pushing you out of the way and beelining it to the table where he placed his food and drink. "I'll take that as a yes..." you sigh.

Placing your food gently on the table, you sat across from the male who eyed you up and down but with no expression crossing his face.

"Y/n." Taeyongs stern voice startled you as you almost choked on a boba pearl. "Whats on your neck?"

"My neck?" Softly, you touched the side of your neck before realizing what he meant. Yesterday, that friend of yours that you've started hanging out with asked you to hang out. And little did you know, hanging out didn't mean just watching movies or joking around. It soon turned to small touches, then kissing, then making out. Before you knew it, he was kissing and sucking your neck, creating the purple mark that now painted your skin. "Oh...it's nothing. Just a bruise."

"What are you stupid? Your telling me you just happened to bruise your neck? Dumbass."

"Then why did you ask if you already know?" You mumbled.

As you took the biggest bite from your burger, Taeyong had to speak up again, "I hate it."

"Its a good thing it's not on you then isn't it."

"I think you would look better covered in my marks." His voice never faltered and you were sure he was joking. Taeyongs always been straight forward with you, but this seemed like a joke, it had to be a joke. Your mind was playing tricks on you and this is what you wanted to hear. It can't be real.

"You're kidding right...?"

"Completely serious."

"So you're...jealous?"

"Stop asking so many questions." He said coldly, shutting you up quickly, but the smirk on your face still lingered.

"I just think it's funny that a small mark on my neck could make someone as cold as you are, jealous." You say, confidence flowing out of you out of nowhere and this time, Taeyong went quiet. "Its cute."

"Cute? You know what's cute is me bending you over this table and fucking the life out of you so you only remember my name and who owns that cute ass."

Heat rose to your cheeks and the tips of your ears, and maybe Taeyong could tell but youre sure your face was starting to show a hint of red, "Now I know you're just bluffing."

Taeyong rolled his eyes, "Come here and shut that mouth, I'll show you I'm not." It had to be the way his voice growled that made you suddenly get out of your seat and stand before the man. It's easy for you to be flustered but it's also easy for you to obey someone that shows more dominance and Taeyong- well he was just overflowing with it.

"We're gonna have a little fun, yeah?" He smiled devishly, "You trust me right?"

"Y-yeah, I m-mean we are f-friends."

Suddenly, your body was bent over the table and your wrists were bound by Taeyongs hand. If you wanted to escape, Taeyong wouldn't let allow it, so you were locked in place.

God, the way this position impacted Taeyong to the point where he just wanted to fuck you all day and night. With your skirt barely hiding your pretty pink panties, he could easily get off by himself at the sight. He didn't need to do that though, he had you after all.

"Did he touch you?" You hear him say, voice low and frightening, enough to paralyze you from moving and speaking. But to his dismay you didn't answer. Moreover, hesitated to answer because of the tone he used. "I asked you a question." He growled, "Did. He. Touch. You."

A soothing hand ran up the sides of you skin, it was cold, almost like a vampires touch compared to your warm skin. "Y-yes."

Taeyong stopped, "Where?"

"Why does it matter?" You say, finding your confidence again though that won't last since your bent over the table with your ass in Taeyongs face.

"I dont want you to remember his touch, only mine. So I'll touch any place he touched." He continued touching where he could reach, the hand binding your wrists let up and rested on your ass as if about to spank you. "Now answer me."

You grumbled and arched your back as a way to tell Taeyong to shut up and fuck you. The pain of something not filling you up was unbearable, you even thought about slipping your fingers inside dripping cunt for relief. "Stop asking me questions and fuck me please."

"God you're so annoying." He spoke. "Im not going to fuck you until you tell me. It shouldnt be that hard since you're so confident." Taeyong pulled you up by your hair and forced you on his lap where your back was pressed against his chest. You couldnt look him in the face, too afraid that you'd break into a blabbering mess.

"H-he touched m-me," you grab Taeyongs hand with hesitation and placed it on your panties that covered your leaking hole, "here."

Almost positive Taeyong could feel your juices soaking through your panties, you pulled your hand away letting his own linger where you needed him most.

"What did he do when he touched you here?" His middle finger went along the slit of your cunt, dragging up and down gently.

"N-nothing."

He crooked his head before pushing your panties to the side and dipping two fingers in, "He didn't do this?" As you body arched into him, he was able to go deeper and finger you slow enough that you were sure it was teasing. And the pain of wanting to be filled up slowly disappeared but not enough.

"N-no, he d-didnt." As he began picking up speed, you cursed a threw your head back. You cried for more, struggling to stay still in his lap and his fingers worked magically inside you.

Taeyong loved every second of this. To finally see you melt in his arms literally when you could so easily turn him down for this. And he'd like to think he was the only one who could make you feel this way. Make you whimper and whine and call out to him for more. He was the only one for you.

"Please T-Taeyong, i want you to f-fuck me so bad," with a third finger slipping inside you, you moaned uncontrollably at the pace. Though you weren't stuffed like you would be with his dick, it was obvious Taeyong knew how to work his fingers to make you act this way. "Please, please, please..."

"Where else did he touch you?" He ignored your please.

It irked you how he didn't bat an eyelash at your desperate self. If you had your confidence again, you would have taken his dick out and sat on it without a question, even so you knew Taeyong wouldn't allow it just yet. He wanted you to fall apart before he even started.

"Mmm Taeyong-" you moaned with content as his fingers curved against your walls, "H-He touched m-my ch-chest."

Taeyong bit the inside of his cheek trying to hide the smirk that formed, "Guess ill just do the same." His free hand worked its way to your mounds where he proceeded to grope you and brush over your sensitive buds. The combination of his fingers inside you and his hands fondling your boobs was sure to bring your to an orgasm soon.

"Youre so beautiful." Taeyong mumbles into your ear, "so fucking perfect."

As carefully as can be, his fingers pulled out of you as a string of your slick connected to his three fingers.

So delicious, Taeyong thought, everything about you was so delicious.

You were flipped around so you faced Taeyong. This time, you didn't look away from him or hide your face from him. Instead, you maintained eye contact with the pretty boy below you before you suddenly pulled him into a desperate and needy kiss.

His heart beat faster than before. His ears burning as his face was flushed. You kissed him. You, the girl that he's been crushing on for years finally kissed him. It only took his jealousy to make this all happen.

"You don't understand how much I love you," he unbuckled his belt, "I cherish every minute and every second I spend with you," soon his pants were unbuttoned, "I can't stand seeing you with someone else," He slipped his dick inside of you with ease, a moan falling from both of you, "Even if you don't love me back, I still fucking do."

You couldnt find words to speak. Your mind was running but not thinking. If you spoke, you weren't sure if it'd be babbling or moaning because of how hard Taeyong fucked up into you. "I-i lo-" No, you couldnt say it back, not while being fucked into a whole new galaxy.

Taeyong on the other hand, was anxious yet pounded into you, enough to bring tears to your eyes. He wanted you to speak, he wanted to hear those three words come out of your mouth, but all he got was your adorable moans and sighs. Yet he wasn't complaining, they sounded lovely apart from the skin against skin. He's just overthinking.

"Youre doing so well, baby." His voice slowly fading, you were so lost in the feeling that anything Taeyong said, went out the other ear.

"F-feels so g-good. Want m-more..." Your greedy hands tugged at Taeyongs locks, but you weren't the only one being touchy. Taeyong was also kneading the plush skin of your ass, giving small taps before digging his nails in, making you whimper.

"Youre so needy baby, huh? So cute and needy for me." He slapped your ass playfully. The smirk on his face was evident that he loved every second of this.

"F-fuck yes, i-im so needy f-for you." You cry, "Youre t-the only one who c-can make me f-feel t-this good."

Of course he is. And Taeyong couldn't be any happier hearing that from you. It gave him energy to fuck harder while now holding your hips still like you were his personal toy. You struggled with keeping the hold on his hair. Your light tugs now harsh pulls but Taeyong didn't mind, in fact he liked how his head was forced to look at your beautiful face.

"Pretty girl." He leaned over the slightest bit and sucked on your necks sweet skin as you tried bouncing on his cock along with him thrusting up. "How much do you love this cock?" He questioned against your neck.

"S-so so much, Taeyong!" Your hips stutter and you know youre close but refuse to faulter, "Y-you h-have the best c-cock."

Taeyong moved back from your neck and grabbed your chin, "Are you ever going to let that guy touch you like that again after this?" You shook your head quickly. "Good girl."

"Im g-gonna cum." You say and without a single thought or word, your body shook as pleasure washed before you. Still, though Taeyong was on the edge of cumming himself, he kept the quick pace from before. But you were so sensitive from the orgasm, and even started screaming Taeyongs name. It wasn't pain, but pleasure, very sensitive pleasure that could easily make you cum a second time.

Seconds before you were about to feel another wave, Taeyong shot his seed deep into you, thrusting slowly as he came down from his high.

"D-did you mean what you said?" Taeyong breathes heavily and raises his brow in question, "About you loving me."

"Duh. I love you, idiot. I wouldn't say that if I didn't mean it." He rolled his eyes. That's the Taeyong you knew. "And what about you? Are you gonna say something or leave me hanging."

"I l-love you t-too." You say quickly. "I mean it."

Taeyong smiles a real smile before patting your head like a puppy and lifting you off his dick, "Lets get you cleaned up, baby, then we can talk about planning a date."

"A date??"

"Mhm," he smirked, "but not after a round two."

[reidswritings]

I’ll Fight For You

authors note; uhhh happy new year! this is just a little something i wrote when i was feeling sad and wishing i had a spencer. i am in NO WAY trying to romanticize depression lol also this is kinda based on the song moonlight by future islands (this isnt edited so if you saw a mistake, no you didnt)

word count; 2.5k

warnings; depression and anxiety

Heavy. So, so heavy. That’s how she felt. She felt like the whole world had its ties on her and they were dragging her down, down, down. It felt like the darkness had finally caught up with her. She felt as though she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. It was all too much— too much of an effort, too much of a task, too much to even get her body to sit up. 

She had been fine the night before— that’s what she was trying to convince herself. 

She hadn’t been.

No, instead she had been declining and everyone who knew her could see it. They could see it on her face, they could see it when her usually contagious smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. They saw it in the way she apologized one too many times. They saw it in the way she constantly zoned out. They saw it get worse and worse and worse every day. 

Bit by bit they watched as the disease clawed its way from the depths of whatever cave it lived in and did its very best to drag her back down into the darkness with it. 

They saw it all. They were just too polite to say anything. Too polite, too uncaring, too preoccupied. Too whatever. A part of her wished they hadn’t been too whatever. A part of her wished they cared enough to reach out. 

Though, she thought, maybe it was a good thing they hadn’t. Maybe it was a good thing they let her be. Maybe it was a good thing— it gave her the opportunity to get over whatever this was by herself, in peace. 

The Tired Girl wasn’t kidding anyone. They all knew what this was. This wasn’t some funk she’d get over. This wasn’t just a bad day. This was just her life. This was just how she had to live. This was her condition rearing its ugly head—her depression. It always happened to her at the worst times. It happened when she first fell in love. It happened when everything was going well at work. It happened when nothing was wrong in her life. It happened when her life was absolute shit. It always happened when she least expected it. 

It just always happened.

Beside her, she felt the comforter pull. It pulled away from under her chin, letting in the cold air. Letting in the bad thoughts. Letting in the intrusive thoughts. Letting in everything she desperately wanted to keep out. She felt him move from the bed, his hand patting her back. He leaned down, fingers tangling themselves in her knotted hair, kissing her head so softly she wanted to cry. She heard him grunt as he stood, bones cracking alongside the stretch he gave— she listened as he did the same thing he did every single morning. 

She heard him gulp down the glass of water from the night prior, she heard him walk into the bathroom connected to their room and she heard him hum to himself as he started his day. She listened as he twisted open the cap to his contacts, then his glasses case. She heard him opened the face wash and then the toothpaste. She heard it all, stuck in the bed like she was chained to it. Stuck in the bed like she was prisoner to it. 

She heard him do all these things and once again, like clockwork, she began to feel her body seize up. She felt her blood boil, she felt herself become so angry she could hardly stand it. 

She wished she could move. She wished she could get up to be with him. She wished she could partake in their morning kiss. She wished they could laugh together in the bathroom mirror, toothbrushes in hand and toothpaste falling down their lips and chins. She wished she could share a cup of coffee with him. She wished and wished and wished. She wished she wasn’t so angry at the world, at herself, at everything. 

Oh, how she wished she could just be there. 

Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. Time wasn’t relevant to her anymore. Her unfocused eyes were watching the curtains. They were pulled closed, dark and depressing— much like herself. She remembered when they bought the stupid drapes. 

The had bought the blackout ones, hopeful not to be woken up by the sun raising. She liked it at the time, she thought it was a good idea. . . at the time. Now, the goddamn curtains were hurting her soul. She wanted to pull them open. She just had no energy. She just couldn’t move.

So, she sat, staring blankly at the god awful blackout curtains. Until he blocked her view. Her eyes focused, meeting the beautiful hazel eyes she fell in love with. His mouth was moving but her ears hadn’t caught up yet. She could tell that he was sighing, defeated. She blinked, unmoving. She felt bad, she felt so fucking horrible. She felt horrible for her, for him, for everything. Still, she couldn’t find it in herself to move— to make it better. To fix things. 

She watched his hand reach out, slowly, settling on her covered arm. She could feel the warmth through her shirt and that made things a little better. Not much, but when you’re that sick, anything helped. No matter how big or small. 

She wanted to smile, thank him for being there for her. She wanted to kiss him like her life depended on it. She wanted to give him all the things he deserved— but still, she was unmoving, frozen.

Everything hit her at once, she could throw up. She could cry, she could scream, she could throw a fucking fit. She wanted to be left alone, she couldn’t handle anything. He was talking, she was catching the tail end of it. “—ou alright?”

Thick with sleep, with sadness, with morning haziness, her voice was loud, “Huh?’’

He spoke again, “I said, are you alright?” She could feel his thumb rubbing against her arm and it hurt. It hurt. Everything hurt. She shook her head, eyes closing again. She felt her face scrunch up, in annoyance, in pain, in sadness, in everything she wished she wasn’t. 

He moved his hand, the one that was just too soft, to her cheek. She wished it was soothing, she wished she could lean into his touch. The Worried Boy nodded, “Okay, okay. What can I do? How can I help?’’

The girl shrugged. She was sighing, heavy, it carrying everything that she had bottled up the past weeks. She knew what she needed, but she was too afraid to ask. Too afraid to voice her thought, too afraid she’d be too much. Too afraid that this would be the one thing that he deemed to be too much. 

He pulled the blanket back up to her chin, hands hovering. His mind was moving a mile a minute, trying, thinking of anything that might help his Pretty Girl. Her mind was creating lies, telling her that she was worthless, that he hated her, that she was nothing. 

It was a whirlwind— her mind. She willed it to stop, unsuccessfully, she curled further into her dark position. She felt his hands leave her, finally. A breath of fresh air rushed through her lungs, comfort and calm filling her veins. She could finally breathe— until she couldn't again. Her mind began again, throwing the nasty at her. It told her he didn't love her, it told her he didn't want to touch her. It told her she was too much. It told her all the things she didn't want to hear. 

It told her all the things he tried too hard to make her forget on the good days. 

"Hey." his voice cut through the fog, loud and strong. It was her light at the end of her dark tunnel, "Stop that."

He let out a breath, it fanned on her face, she welcomed the heat that followed. “I’m sorry.”

He was shaking his head, sad and feeling all the feelings for her. He wished away her bad thoughts, he wanted her to return to the usually bubbly girl she was. 

 Her world was suddenly shifting again and her mind becoming no less clouded, heavy as ever. The boy who she loved with her entire being, pulled her arms to her chest, sliding in bed behind her. His lips were moving against her ear, words brushing her skin. 

Her ears were picking up on the sweet nothings her pretty boy was murmuring, but her mind was on a different path. Her mind was fogged. It was like she was watching, listening, through a fogged up piece of glass. 

She could feel his arms on her body, it was comforting. And before she knew what was happening to her, her mind was swirling again. It was sharp. She found her voice, strong in the disappointment that was her illness. “Spence— Spencer, I-I.”

She stopped, depression kicking her in the ass. Spencer’s voice was louder. “Don’t, don’t stop. Keep going, push through, Y/N/N.”

“I’m so tired. I feel like. . . everything is just so hard right now, Spence.”

He sighed, she did too, eyes heavy and lethargic. She was so fucking tired, she felt like she could pass out any second. She felt like she hadn’t slept in ages. Her head fell back on to his shoulder, his hands bursting away the knotted hair away. If she wasn’t in this funk, she knew her heart would’ve skipped a beat at the simple gesture. Breath heavy on her lungs, on her body, on her mind and soul, she exhaled.

Her boy nodded, squeezing her just a little extra. “That’s it. Let it out.”

His hands were moving again, brushing against her cheeks. He was wiping, lingering. Her eyes caught his hand when he finally took it away, it was wet, glistening in the small amount of light that illuminated the two. 

“I’m sorry. . .” The broken girl breathed. She wasn’t sure why she did so. All she knew was that it was second nature. Saying those words was up there with the need to breathe, pressing and dire. 

“. . .Why?” It was just as quiet as her cries— the ones that she barely had a clue were happening. 

Despite the ignorance, she cried harder, eyes and face scrunched up tighter than Spencer had ever seen. Her breath had caught, faster than they both wanted. Her heart seized up, sad and lonely— despite the pretty boy beside her. She wanted to be anywhere other than where she was. She was tired— tired of feeling the way she did. Tired of feeling like she wasn’t enough for him. Tired of feeling like she was more a burden than a blessing. She was just so, so fucking tired. 

She knew she could talk to him. She knew that. Of course she did, it was Spencer— she could tell him anything and he’d never, ever, in a millions years, judge her or make her feel like less for having her own thoughts and opinions.

So, it was usually easy to talk to him. It was easy because she loved him. She loved the way he responded, she love the way he would light up every time she sat him down and told him everything. It was easy because he would get this look on his face that she rarely ever saw. He would get this look that she loved more than anything in the whole world. More than chocolate, more than her favorite movie, more than her friends, more than everything. 

Y/N’s most favorite thing in the whole world was the look that crossed his beauty whenever she talked to him. When it happened, it was like the whole world had stopped. To, Spencer, it was like everything in his world had become. . . secondary. Like, nothing else mattered to the pale boy except the words that were leaving his pretty girl. His eyes would grow all wide and innocent and it warmed Y/N’s heart every damn time. 

She quickly learned that to see her favorite look, she had to talk. To him. About everything. Even the ugly. Even her deepest darkest secrets. And she did, quite often too. So, when the broken girl cried out in-between sobs and choppy breathes a very heart-wrenching, “I don’t know!” Spencer knew something was amiss. 

His hands were back in her hair, pulling it away from her eyes, her forehead, opening up the girl to the light he so desperately wanted to share with her. “Hey, just breathe.”

Cries still there, just not as present, she sat up. Looking at her boy through the blurry vision that were her tears, she said, “You don’t deserve this.”

He didn’t answer, he only raised his hand, to place on her shoulder, probably. She flinched away and hurt crossed his features before he placed his hand back down onto his own leg. She continued, head shaking, “You know that, don’t you? You deserve someone who can get up with you in the morning. You should have someone who doesn’t wallow in their own pity and despair. You deserve more than me, Spence.”

“I don’t think you understand, Y/N.” His voice had a bite of sadness to it. Y/N could tell. His eyes were far away, though maintaining eye contact. 

“Understand?” Her breath stilled finally. She was perplexed with her beautiful boy. An action that happened quite often. 

His beautiful eyes returned, he shook his head slightly. His mouth turned up at the side and he let out the smallest of chuckles. “Y/N, I-I— You mean everything to me.”

The boy cleared his throat, probably to flush away the tears that threatened to show through his voice. Then he continued, looking at his pretty girl. “I will tell you until the end of time. I’ll tell you until it gets through that thick skull of yours.” He chuckled at that, a finger tapping against her temple. 

“Spencer, I’m just so, so tired. Tired of everything.”

Her boy sighed, sad again. “ We fight for each other. You fought to clear my name, you fought to get me clean. . . again. We fight for each other, Y/N/N. And right now, I’m asking for you to make the choice to stay, because I cant do this without you, Y/N. I’m gonna fight for you. I’ll fight for you, until I don’t have to anymore.”

And for once, 

For once,

For once, she realized, she wasn’t quite as alone as she had thought. She wasn’t the only one that experience this kind of sadness. She realized that her once small, dark world was no longer small and dark. 

Not with Spencer Reid pulling her through the dark, never ending tunnel. Now, she wasn’t cured, not by any means, of course. But, it hurt just a little less knowing he was right there with her. 

Knowing he was her light in the dark storm of life. And that was all she needed.