a-god-in-ruins-rises · 2 years ago
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yesterday’s ask about the ottomans reminded me that i wanna do a ck3 campaign where i remove the turkish hordes from central asia and the pontic-caspian steppe.
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flash-from-the-past · 8 months ago
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Submachine 10: the Exit
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spicygrilledscorpio · 4 months ago
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Sweet dreams - LN
Summary: Lando wanted to suprise his girlfriend but got suprised
Warnings: SMUT, somnophilia, horny!Lando, sleepy!reader, slight overstimulation(?), pet names, oral (f!receiving), penetrative sex (i think that’s it let me know if i missed any)
Side notes: English is not my first language so sorry if anything sounds weird. Hopes you guys enjoy❤️‍🔥
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Y/n went to sleep wearing one of Lando’s button-ups with nothing underneath. She doesn’t usually go to sleep full commando but since her boyfriend isn’t home, why not? Lando was out for the triple header, he just finished Barcelona and was supposed to go straight to Austria, but Lando decided to give his girlfriend a surprise.
Lando opened the door to his apartment slightly, tiptoeing his way through the dark room, careful not to wake her up. He cracks the door to their bedroom quietly, guessing she was asleep since it was pretty late at night. He made his way to where she was lying, looking down at y/n’s peaceful face…until something caught his attention.
Y/n was letting out some incoherent mumbling and panting but was still pretty much fast asleep. She was straddling a pillow, that’s what caught Lando’s eyes. He reached for the pillow between her legs to remove it and to his surprise, there was a damp spot on the pillow. Lando’s eyes widen as he looks down at his girlfriend, who is now rubbing her legs together from the loss of the pillow. He parted her legs slightly, staring at the glistening wetness and leaning down, placing kisses on both sides of her thigh. Meanwhile, Y/n was still very deep asleep.
“P-please, Lando” Y/n mumbled in a quiet tone but enough for Lando to hear
He looks up from between her legs to see that she’s still sleeping. She’s having a wet dream. This is a perfect opportunity for Lando to try out something they talked about for a while but never got the chance to try.
He moved his finger up and down collecting the wetness and then bringing them up to his mouth to taste. He’s pretty sure if y/n was awake and watching him doing that right now, she would be too embarrassed and try to cover her red face. However, she was still fast asleep right now, stirred a little but nothing else, allowing Lando to do everything he wanted to her.
Lando leaned down and lick a stripe from her hole up to her clit, making her breath hitch in her sleep. He starts doing kitten licks and placing kisses on y/n’s clit, teeth glazing it sending shivers down her body
“L-Lan?” She woke up and tried to close her leg in confusion, unsure what was happening.
“I’m here princess, go back to sleep and lemme take care of you yeah?” Lando shushed y/n and pecked her lip before lowering himself again to finish what he started.
Lando started to eat you out like crazy. If anybody sees how he is right now they would think that he was starved for days. The combination of y/n’s arousal and his saliva glistening on her soaked cunt as he continues to devour her. Sucking and practically “making out” with her clit as two of his fingers enter her and immediately start to move at a brutal pace, as his other hand moves up to toy with y/n’s tits. It was too much for her, hands desperately trying to find something to grab onto when they found Lando’s hair.
“I-I’m close Lan”
Her boyfriend didn’t reply but hummed into her soaked cunt, sending vibration to y/n’s already sensitive clit, adding up to the knot building up in her lower abdomen, pushing her over the edge. She grabbed onto Lando’s hair tightly as she cum, moaning out loud.
“That’s it sweetheart, good girl” Lando coos as he plants kisses all over her face. Just when Y/n was about to doze off again, she felt Lando’s tip squeezing into her tight cunt.
“N-no, I want to sleep” Y/n whines, closing her legs and trying to push Lando away
“C’mon, just one more for me ok?”. Lando coos as he grabs her hands and pins them above her head. With one thrust, he bottomed out in her. Lando let out a groan feeling her warm, tight cunt wrapping around his hard member.
“So good f’me huh baby” He whispers in her ear, feeling her clenching extra hard down on him. Lando started with slow but deep strokes, hitting y/n’s G-spot with every thrust making her moan out loud.
“M-more”
“I thought you wanted to sleep, no?” Lando jokes as y/n gives him a death stare.
“Your wish is my command, princess” He chuckled slightly as he increased his pace, hips snapping into her at brutal speed. The sound of skin slapping and wet noises from the combination of her arousal and his pre-cum fills the room.
“I’m close-“
“Cum for me baby” Lando’s hand sneaks down to rub her clit in a circular motion, adding more pleasure, and pushing her over the edge. Y/n let out a loud moan as she comes, clenching around and milking his cock. Lando pulls out and shoots his cum on her stomach.
“Did so well for me, gorgeous” Lando says as he pecks her lip quickly then runs to grab a towel to clean both of them up. After he’s done with the cleaning, Lando climbs onto the bed to cuddle up with Y/n.
“So what were you dreaming about earlier” Lando asks as Y/n hits his chest playfully with her palm.
“Some handsome guy teasing me”
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monstersflashlight · 2 months ago
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Ohhh, maybe something with sugar daddy minotaur? Started with money end on the bed then the minotaur get so clingy with us, claim to be more then sugar daddy because our squirt 🥺
I feel so hot request something like this ahhh-
Minotaur daddy
Minotaur x fem!reader || daddy kink, squirting, praise kink, oral sex, super fluffy fluff
When he reached to you through your social media to be your daddy, you thought it was a stupid bot once again, but you answered to see what kind of crazy offer he had to give you. It was funny at first, just checking if he was a bot. But in less than thirty minutes there was an amazing sum in your bank account and you had a date and a contract set with the most handsome minotaur you’ve ever met.
Your first date was amazing, soft and quiet and he indulged you in everything you liked. You fell a tiny bit in love with him that day, but your relationship was purely transactional. Or so you thought.
You fooled around a couple times, but he never got his pants down. He pleasured you over and over, but never taking care of himself. He insisted it was all for you, that you were the focus of that relationship, money or not. So it worked great for you, you got his soft big tongue ravishing your pussy and money for it. You were completely fine with it…
But the reality is that you weren’t. Not at all. You wanted more, so much more. He gave you the best orgasms of your life, allowed you to pay for your living and indulged on your stupid craving. He took you out, dressed you with fancy clothes and paraded you around like the most precious thing he had. And that was great. But you wanted more, so much more. You wanted him. You wanted him to fuck you into oblivion. You wanted him to want you… But you didn’t know how to tell him that. How to act on your feelings. You didn’t even know if he wanted you that way.
The only thing you knew is that he fucking loved eating you out until you were a mess.
You were whiting against the sheets of his fancy penthouse. “Please, daddy…” You came three times already, your pussy so tender and overstimulated you didn’t know if you could go more.
“One more, babe. Gimme one more and I’ll stop,” he always promised that. He always said he wanted one more and you ended up soaking his face and clenching so hard on his fingers he would whine and tell you how fucking amazing your pussy was.
“I don’t know if I can,” you told him. Someplace inside of you, you knew there was at least one more inside of you, but it felt different this time.
He always ate you out incredibly well, but for some reason the combination of his fingers and his rough tongue were hitting something different inside of you. It was like you were on the edge of the most amazing thing was at arm reach but you couldn’t get to it. Not quite. Not yet. Your need to be a good girl was above your need for him to stop.
“Of course you can, babe. Do it for me. Come for daddy one more time,” he coached. His words felt hot and bothered against your pussy, his lips engulfing half of your pussy at once, lapping and sucking as he pressed against your G-spot over and over. His clever fingers giving your insides a massage that was driving you into insanity.
But you didn’t know if you could do it. It was so close but so far away at the same time. You grabbed his horns and rose your hips to meet his eager tongue once again, trying to reach that part of you that wanted to break under him, that part of you that wanted to be pliant, perfect for him. He chuckled at your eagerness and resumed his activities, his big tongue playing with your clit softly but intently, the way you liked. His fingers inside of you rubbing circles in the most awesome way. Your eyes were closed as you panted, pulling at his horns until he whimpered against your flesh, making you feel even better.
And then you felt something inside of you break down, like he destroyed some kind of dam and you were exploding into a million pieces.
You squirted for the first time ever over his surprised face as he pulled his face back but kept rubbing over your G-spot. You came, and came, and came until you felt you were losing your mind and your brain was melting inside your head. It was the most extreme feeling you’ve ever felt and the most amazing, too.
When you came down, still panting, he pulled you to him, your body wrapped around his as he caressed your naked back. “You did amazing, pretty girl. So good for your daddy.” You blushed at his words, like you always did. There was something special about him praising you, you never thought you had a praise kink, but he helped you discover a lot of things about yourself… Like you could squirt.
“I didn’t know I could do that, daddy,” you confessed. You tried not to sound too shy, but the fact that his furry face was still damp with your release and he was smiling at you like you held the light of the universe was doing things to your insides.
“You did great, you are perfect. My perfect pretty girl,” he caressed your face and pulled you up. Your mouths collided into a frantic kiss that left you breathless. He parted ways and said: “I think I’m going to keep you,” he whispered, making you shiver and look at him confused.
“What?” That couldn’t mean what you thought it meant. Right?
“I want you to be more than my sugar baby,” he responded, your heart doing crazy shit inside your chest as the butterflies inside your stomach flew around frantically.
“What are you saying? Do you want… more?” You asked, wanting to be sure of it.
“Of course I want more. I didn’t know how to say it because I thought you wouldn’t want an old bull like me. But you coming like that, for me… That was too much, babe. I need you like I need air. And I would need a repetition of that at least once a day for the rest of our lives. I… I love you.” The softness in his tone mixed with the way he was looking at you, your heart was beating like crazy in your chest and you thought you were about to implode with happiness.
“Are you for real, don’t joke with me. Because I love being your sugar baby but I kind of… love you, too,” you confessed. The happiness in his eyes was answer enough. You launched for his mouth, and you felt like everything was right with the world again. Like there was hope in the future. “But I’m still going to want pretty dresses,” you joked when you broke apart.
“Of course, pretty girl. Everything you want.” You smiled down at him and kissed him again until your bodies were melting into one.
Reminder that you can commission me (info here) or suscribe to my Patreon (info here). And that my second account is @whiskis
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ozzgin · 11 months ago
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Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (II)
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Reader is cozying up to her unusual home, and her new friend decides to surprise her with a romantic gift. Or at least what he considers to be romantic: a small reminder that no one else can mess with her. Continuation to the yakuza landlord idea!
Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, mentions of stalking, violence, death, mild gore
[Part 1] | [Part 3] | [Yakuza Masterlist]
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You search for your keys and open the postal box, retrieving a thick envelope. You've been living at the new apartment for several weeks now and truth be told, you could get used to this lifestyle. Your commute to work is much shorter, the path is never devoid of people, and there are multiple bakeries on the way back with some of the best pastries you've tasted in your life.
You turn around and look for Daitou, somewhat distracted and dreamy. It really feels like a Hallmark movie. A peaceful, idyllic life. Ah, there he is! The scarred man is standing guard before one of the stores. The curtains have been pulled, blocking any glimpse of the inside. You walk towards him with a certain joyful bounce in your step. As you approach him, you can hear muffled screams coming from the building. He notices you and flashes you a smile. 
"Don't come too close, I hear the owner's been avoiding his loan payment and getting all friendly with the neighboring Family. We're questioning him in the back."
"Don't you usually do the interrogations?" 
"Only if we don't need them afterwards. I'm not too good at keeping them alive, ya know?" He scratches the back of his head and laughs awkwardly. "Do you need anything?"
You open your mouth to speak, but it's a little difficult to formulate a full sentence with the interrupted moans and cries occasionally making their way out. The door is ajar and you avoid glancing in its direction, fixating on the man before you. 
"I...uh... just wanted to know if this letter is intended for me or the landlord. It looks like an official document."
You show Daitou the envelope and just as he is about to grab it, he notices the blood stains seeped into his glove. He quickly removes it, wipes his hand on his shirt, and nonchalantly plucks the paper from your fingers.
"That's for Boss. I'll pass it on, so don't worry."
You nod and bow slightly before hurrying back home. Well, doesn't make it less of a movie, you suppose. Just more of a thriller. Or something like that. You drop your bag, slip off your shoes and throw yourself onto the futon with a loud thud. The warmth of the sheets envelops you and the wails of the shop owner become but a distant dream. 
Without the worry of stalkers, or finding a roof above your head, you can finally rest. 
Tonight is rather dark, with the moon shrouded in heavy clouds. Daitou yawns silently as he observes the masked man testing out passcodes for the entrance. Every now and then he lets out a whispered curse, crossing out another number combination on his little crumpled note. It doesn't take a genius to figure out this is the famed stalker you'd complained about earlier. No one else currently lives in the building. 
Eventually, the keypad lights up and the door unlocks. The mysterious man lifts a fist victoriously and reaches for the handle. 
"Oop! Not so fast!" Daitou drops his heavy, sinewy arm over the man's shoulders, pulling him in a friendly embrace. Like two old pals meeting at an intersection. "Let's take a walk together, what do you say? (Y/N) sleeps until noon on weekends, no need to hurry."
With a grunt, the stalker tries to shove himself out of the tightening hold, but the yakuza doesn't budge. He towers over his new friend with an unfaltering, unbothered grin. 
"Now listen, I don't blame you one bit, ya know? I ain't blind, at least not in this eye", he continues as he points to the real counterpart of his glass prosthetic, "so I'm damn well aware of a pretty girl when I see one. And (Y/N)? That's some good taste alright." 
He gives the man an affectionate pat over the chest, pulling him away from the building into one of the side streets. 
"If you want, we can have a drink before the deed, I know a good place five minutes from here. We can share some stories of our favorite girl, eh?" Daitou looks at his watch, feigning mild concern. "But I'm afraid you're not leaving this neighborhood either way. In one piece, that is." 
His arm goes limp and the masked man is released from the iron hold, tripping over from the sudden lack of support. He crawls against a wall and fumbles for something, swiftly pulling out what seems to be a pocket knife. His breathing is erratic and he points the tip of the blade towards the yakuza, now with his features darkened by a frown. He sounds like an entirely different person and the instant switch to a ragged voice startles the stranger.
"See, the trouble is, I promised miss (Y/N) I wouldn't allow a fucking dog like you to be in her presence ever again. Sadly for you, I'm a man of my word." Despite the threatening tone, his posture is relaxed and he stands before the stalker with his hands bare. 
"If I were you, I'd use that little butter knife on my own throat. I don't go easy on horny cockroaches. Especially the ones that mess with my woman." His final words spill out in a bitter growl. 
A small animal in the trashing jaws of a predator. Blood splatters and pools in the asphalt cracks and drained hands claw at the walls, hoping for an escape. As despair sinks in, the alleyway becomes quiet again, save for the merry whistle of the remaining party. Daitou carefully ties the trash bags with the focus of a child wanting to impress the parents with a chore well done. Halfway through he stops and gasps, surprised.
"Oh man, did I really just say 'my woman'? How embarrassing." He blushes and shyly pushes the wrapped slabs away. "I haven't even asked her out yet, ya know? Better not rat me out, Mr. Stalker." He snickers at his monologue and continues the cleanup. 
"Can you really not refrain yourself from smoking in here?" You try to fan away the puff of smoke, scowling at the young blonde man sitting across the table. 
"Why do you even care so much?" Kazuya groans and stuffs the remains of the cigarette in the ashtray.
"I don't want my carrot cake tasting like tobacco. You're lucky the old man is afraid of you, otherwise you would've gotten your ass banned a long time ago."
"You know, I've been thinking about it lately - haven't you gotten quite the attitude? You have a big mouth for someone surrounded by dangerous gangsters. I could blow your brains out right now." 
He lowers himself in his seat and briefly lifts his shirt, flashing a carelessly tucked in gun. He stares at you for a few seconds, as if expecting a reaction, then lets out a chuckle upon seeing your indifferent expression. 
"Shameless. You could at least try to pretend you don't know I have a soft spot for you."
"Just a wild guess, but your Boss probably wouldn't appreciate you shooting civilians in the middle of a café. That's all." You respond with a shrug. 
Your banter is interrupted by Daitou's heavy footsteps nearing in your direction. Kazuya waves, signaling your location, and kicks a chair out, inviting his friend to join. 
"Where the hell were you last night? I thought you'd come with us for drinks after that long ass questioning."
"Sorry, I had to take care of something." Daitou returns an apologetic smile and tilts his head to gaze at you. "Which reminds me, I brought you this."
Your eyes widen in surprise and a faint red tints your cheeks. Was there some special occasion you didn't know about? He places a small box in your hands and leans back in his chair with a cheerful smirk on his face. Kazuya watches the interaction, equally curious as you. 
You open the mysterious gift, giddy with anticipation. The nauseating smell abruptly invades your nostrils and you can feel the contents of your stomach bubble up and pile at the back of your throat. You gag involuntarily and slap your hands over your mouth, as the box tumbles down. A single severed human finger and some teeth glistening with moisture roll out. 
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
Kazuya jumps from his seat, toppling over the table in the process, and lunges at Daitou's throat. The latter can only stare in shock, baffled at a reaction he didn't foresee. There's genuine confusion shaping his features.
"But-...I thought..."
"What the hell did you think, that you'd show up with fucking human remains over some tea and cake?! Jesus, Daitou, she ain't our Lieutenant!"
"But I did- I did tell (Y/N) I'd..." he tries to find you with a pleading, worried look. 
Once the risk of vomiting on the floor has diminished, you shove yourself between the men and gently try to remove Kazuya's arm, still clawed around the other man's throat.
"Let him go, Kazuya. He didn't mean to scare me." You glance at Daitou reassuringly. "Does that mean the stalker guy is now a solved matter?"
The yakuza nods energetically, his eyes now sparkling with pride. He knew you'd understand. Once the tension is lifted, you quickly sweep the gory tokens back into their box and explain the situation to Kazuya. He collapses back in his seat with a frustrated sigh, facepalming himself. 
"I'm so sorry, (Y/N), I should've told you he's being serious when he says shit like this." He glares at his friend. "She didn't actually expect you to go ahead and do it, dumbass. Couldn't you just mention it or something? 'Hey, I took care of that pervert following you around'! You think she would've demanded proof?"
Daitou is nervously fidgeting with his glass eye, as if searching for the proper words.
"But you always say women will like you more if you surprise them with gifts." He concludes with a pout.
There's a prolonged moment of silence and you burst our laughing, as the blonde simultaneously lets out an exasperated whine. You cannot get over the bizarre sight in front of you: someone as massive and imposing as Daitou, cornered like a punished school boy. 
"See, this is what I've been telling Boss. You're a lost cause." Kazuya rests his elbows on his knees, closing the distance between him and Daitou and continuing with a lecturing tone. "If you got a crush on someone, you bring them flowers or something! What are you, a crackhead? Do I have to teach you basic manners?"
"More importantly, uh...what should I do with these? I guess jewelry made of teeth is a thing, but the finger? Won't it go bad?" you cautiously dangle the package next to your ears, listening to the rustle of its contents. 
Kazuya rips the box from you.
"I'm starting to suspect you don't have all the tiles on your roof either. I'll get rid of it, so you better pretend nothing ever happened. Are we clear?"
Both you and Daitou nod obediently.
On your way back, the man can't help the excitement building up in his chest. You liked his gift, didn't you? He hasn't done anything wrong. Does that make it official, then? As he ponders the implications, he peeks at your small frame, barely managing to keep up with him. Would it be alright if he reached for your hand? Is he supposed to ask first? All these steps confuse him to no end.
Nonetheless, he couldn't be more thankful for you. 
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seungfl0wer · 4 months ago
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*Teach Me*
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Parings: Hyunjin x Reader (Fem)
Genre: Pure smut with some crack
Warnings: Unprotected Sex, Multiple creampies, multiple round, hint at breeding, mentions of masturbation, Hyunjin was a cat turned human. F Receiving, Not proofread. (I think that’s all?)
Link to the request Here. Such a good request uuugh thank you so much for this one. I hope you enjoy it!
A much asked for part two is here: “To much kitten?”
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-🩵
You signed to yourself cleaning up the mess your new cat had just made. You left the room for 5 minutes to grab your brush just to come back to your cat knocking your positions off the shelf. You started to clean everything up the cream colored cat meowing at you. “Did you have to break them all?” You said glaring at him. You had just brought him home a few weeks ago, finding him alone in the forest where he would surly get eaten by a werewolf or worse.
The playful cat had jumped from where you had placed him away from all the mess to your back. You shook a bit trying to get him to come down to you to grab. He slipped down your side falling into a puddle of mixed positions. You quickly grab him, not knowing what he had fallen in or the reaction it might have. You quickly tried cleaning him and placed him in the bathtub where he couldn’t escape. He sat in there crying but you had to clean everything up. The potions themselves were harmless however mixing them together could cause anything honestly.
After you had everything cleaned you decided to run a bath for you and your kitty. Was he gonna like it? Honestly you had no idea you haven’t tried before. So you ran a nice warm bath for the both of you holding him in your arms as you slipped into the tub. Weirdly enough he didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t seem like he wanted to venture away from you but laying on your chest with the warm water touching him, he seemed calm.
You closed your eyes relaxing into the warmth. And then you hear a poof. Before you could open your eyes you heard the water spilling out of the tub. A hand grazed your side and you could feel legs between your own. You opened your eyes only to find your cute little cat turned into a human.
Eyes wide staring at the naked man above you. He looked like he was in shock he couldn’t move and your body was almost frozen as well. Both of you were literally naked in the tub together. You looked over him eyes wondering his body. His blonde hair plastered to his face. His muscles stiff as he held himself in place and his- “no no do not look” you said to yourself eyes back up to his face. You didn’t even have to look you could feel his cock laying on your leg. Your body was flushed pink it felt like hours had passed but it had only been about 5 minutes.
“Before you say anything just know this is your fault” you said looking up at the man. He tilted his head “maybe don’t have so many bottles around a cat” he rolled his eyes back at you. “So we just gonna stay here naked together?” He said with a smirk. You quickly pushed him off grabbing a towel for yourself rapping it around you. “Here’s a towel dry yourself off while I see if I have clothes for you.” You said leaving the bathroom.
What the fuck just happened. The potions that had combined must have turned him into a human. Of course they did. Just your luck you find a cute animal and it turns out to be a pretty man. You rummage through your closet finding an oversized shirt of yours and some basketball shorts he could wear for now. You came out to find the man in the living room, He was butt ass naked looking out the window.
“Someone gonna see you.” You said handing him the clothes “put these on ok?” He nodded putting the clothes on and going back to looking out the window. You sat down looking on your phone any answers you could find. It turns out it’s more common than you think. The man will still act cat like, go through a lot of the same motions but will stay human.
You sighed at least knowing this wasn’t just you being dumb. He turned to you “it’s dinner time!” He said walking over to you. He was right, this is the time you always feed him. “Alright but I don’t think you’ll like your dry food anymore, how about I make us some fish?” You said his eyes lighting up like little stars twinkling in the night sky. You quickly head to the kitchen you hungry yourself to start cooking. You made fish with a small bowl of rice and broccoli. The man before you sat close to you watching your every move. “By the way as much as I like the name star, my names hyunjin.”
After dinner he had curled up on the couch falling asleep. You took this opportunity to run to the store quickly. You grabbed him some clothes and a few other things he may need running back to the house. As you opened the door you were met with a tackle. Hyunjin had his arms wrapped around you tightly “you could have at least told me you were leaving, I got scared” he said softly looking up at you with those big eyes.
“I’m sorry hyune you were sleeping so peacefully so I wanted to grab you stuff.” You said putting the bags down. He released his grip on you crossing his arms “you always leave when I’m sleeping” he said in a huff which made you laugh a bit “well yeah it’s the only time you are actually peaceful and not destroying stuff.” You teased.
-🩵
A few weeks had passed since your cat had been turned human and it wasn’t too bad honestly. It was nice having someone to talk to when you were home that could actually talk back now.
You had noticed though hyunjin spending sometime in the bathroom. It made you wonder why? What exactly was he doing. He’d always come out with his cheeks all flushed. You stared at him this time as he came back to the couch “are you just like taking a massive shit or something?” You half teased half wondering if that’s what it was.
He just looked at you confusion plastered his face before he started busting out laughing “what the fuck did you just ask me” Tears pricking the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard. “Why do you keep going to the bathroom then you asshole.” You teased throwing one of the pillows at his face. “You really think I’m going to the bathroom that much? I mean your cooking is kinda bad but not that bad.” He teased tossing the pillow back at you.
“You really wanna know what I’m doing?” He said tilting his head looking at you. Not giving you a moment to second guess yourself “I’m in there fucking my hand” he said teasing as he made the hand motion. You were the one now confused but also in shock? He continued “I still have all the animal desires y/n I can’t help being around you and your smell makes me go feral. The slightest touch from you sometimes is enough to just send me into a frenzy. So I excuse myself to the bathroom. Honestly it’s probably worse right now cause heat is coming.” He rambled.
“First of hyunjin, most people don’t come right out and say they were masturbating. Second of all you went to the bathroom like 4 times yesterday.” You said still kind of confused. “Why can’t I say that? What’s it matter if people know? Us cats just take care of ourselves.” He states himself now looking confused “hyune you’re a human now though and you can’t just say that especially if others are around.”
You sat there discussing things, not realizing there were things he may not know about being human. Things you thought were just explanatory like no peeing outside or scarfing down your food so the others can’t have any. He sat there listening to you and asking questions “so what about mating?” He asked “I’ve never seen you with a mate but I’ve seen you use that little vibrator in your dresser. How come you get to touch yourself and I can’t?”
You had forgotten you’ve touched yourself while he was in the room. I mean fuck he was a cat then you didn’t know this would all happen. He stared at you for a split second before leaning into you “Since you’re teaching me about all human things, can you teach me how to properly mate with you?” He said eyes going from your lips back up to your gaze. “I uhm-“ you stutter out before he presses his body against yours. “Guide me or I’ll do things how I know to do them.”
The beautiful man inches away from your lips, his big brown eyes staring so lustfully at your hands on your hips ready to take you. It’s been a long time since you’ve had sex let alone even a damn kiss. You put yourself so fully into your studies lately you hadn’t had time for dating. Here was this sexy man wanting nothing more than you, were you going to pass on the opportunity? I guess not. Because before you could question anything hyunjin was kissing you sloppily pushing you down into the couch to be over top of you.
He kisses were wet and messy, his tongue lapping at the inside of your mouth twirling your own tongue. He was definitely gonna need to be shown how to kiss better but it was hot at the moment. His hand rushed over your body feeling every inch of it as he rutting against you. His clothed cock felt so painfully hard. He positioned himself so his cock was now at your clothed cunt. He moved his hips more earning a moan from you. He kissed down your jaw to your neck sucking on it harshly. Fuck. He groaned out by your ear. “Please” he said voice raspy.
“Please what?” You asked a bit confused to what he was asking. He sighed “please actually help me, this is you know different from what I’m use to. I’m gonna need help finding uhm- where to put myself.” He said his face blushed you couldn’t tell if it was from his question or just cause he was turned on. Either way it was so cute.
You smiled at him softly “alright, take your pants off then.” You said and as soon as those words left your mouth he was stripping so fast. You were about to pull your clothes off before he grabbed your pants “let me help you with that.” He said his eye’s looking hungry. As soon as he got your pants off he dived into your soaking cunt. The contact was so fast your brain went fuzzy. He lapped up all your juices, licking you clean before looking up at you.
His eyes were hazy looking he murmured out “where’s the spot?” He asked “the uhm the thing” he said he was confused himself. “What?” You chuckled a bit “the clit?” He questioned “I saw it on one of your videos the girl said “yes suck my clit” isn’t that like your spot?” He asked. You smiled at him sweetly showing him what he was talking about “this is it it’s a very sensitive part of a female it’s like how males like you have a sensitive tip.” You said now pointing at the tip of his cock. He nodded understanding completely what you meant.
He quickly went back to licking small licks up your folds now stopping at your clit to suck on it. As you showed him that you also showed him where to in his words “stick it.” You could feel him bring his fingers up slowly playing with your entrance as he ravished the cunt. God for it being his first time he was way too good at it. “I’ve never tasted anything better not even the salmon could compare.” He said almost looking drunk off of your cunt. “And those sounds you were making fuck, I could cum just off that.” He said his free hand now stroking himself.
He continued eating you out like a hungry animal he was bringing you close to your release his hands steadily fucking you he could feel your walls clenching around his fingers. “Fuck y/n you’re gonna cum aren’t you?” He breathed out looking up at you “your eyes look the same way they did when you came on the vibrator.” All you could do was nod yes at him, his pace picking up as he let go of his cock to move his hand to your clit.
Everything together brought you to your high fast your legs shaking, walls fighting around him you were moaning his name loudly. Your hand grabbing ahold of his head pulling you as your high washed over you. Cuming on his tongue he let out a moan feeling warmth on your leg. His body jolted a bit as you noticed he had also came. He had came hearing you say his name so sinfully, the taste of you brought him over the edge.
Your body felt like jello, legs shaky as he lapped up every little drop of you before coming up. His hair slicked back stuck to his forehead, those beautiful pillowy lips red from all the movement. You both looked so fucked out of your minds.
He got his second wind pretty fast, he wrapped his arms around you brining your body to his before flipping you over to your stomach. Your body was still to tired so he quickly placed a pillow under you making sure that nice ass of yours was displayed so nicely for him. He stroked himself a few times already hard again after cuming. God how was he so hard again. He quickly found your entrance pushing himself into you. You both let out the most lustful sinful moans the feeling of your walls around him had him trying not to cum already. The size of him filled you up so nicely could almost feel him on your stomach. If he fucked you like this there was no way you wouldn’t get pregnant.
He stayed still for a second just taking in how good you felt before moving a bit. Just the feeling alone of you he couldn’t help himself he pushed into you a couple times before his body shook. He was already cuming again. The sensation of his hot liquid filling your walls already had you moaning loudly. You didn’t want it to end yet but how could he go again after cuming twice in the span of a few minutes? Well don’t underestimate the power of a horny cat man.
He gave himself a few seconds his cock still hard inside you before moving. He was such a mess on top of you, both of you sweaty and sensitive. He fucked into you so sloppily the cum acting as lube letting him glide in and out. The noises of skin slapping filled the room. His hands digging into your hips pulling him as far into you as he possible could. He moved down his body against you back leaving small kisses as his hand found its way back to your clit.
He rubbed your clit as he sunk his teeth into your shoulder. He fucked into you so deep you could feel his tip hitting your cervix. His hand that was on your him now wrapped around your body. His movements became fast feeling your walls tighten around him “Hyune I’m- fuck I’m cumming” you almost scream out his hand moving fast against your clit, his hips sloppily moving before he came deep inside your walls. He sucked small purple marks on your neck, bitting softly from time to time.
“I don’t wanna move” he said arms gripped around you tightly “feels to good, wanna stay buried inside you forever” he said voice low. You hum at the thought still feeling him twitching inside of you. “Damnit” he said softly pulling himself up “I gotta fucking pee” he said whining as he pulled himself out of you. The cum dripping out as he whined even more at the sight. He quickly ran to the bathroom you sat up rubbing your head, body still feeling weak.
“Alright I’m back, what are you doing?” He asked as you were cleaning yourself up. “Cleaning up” you said in a questioning tone. He whined a bit before sitting down on the couch “why you doing that for when we are just gonna get messy again?” He asks pulling you backwards making you sit down on his lap. You could feel his cock pressed against your folds “how the fuck are you hard again?” He blurted out. “Can’t help it you’re to hot.” He shrugged moving you as he pushed himself back into you. “We don’t even have to do anything I just wanna stay like this” he said wrapping his arms around you to pull you fully down around his cock.
“I don’t think you’ll be able to sit here and not try anything” you teased. He laughed a bit “probably not but hey I don’t think you’re complaining.” He teased back kissing your cheek. And he knew he was right you both did but you weren’t gonna admit to it.
💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵
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hgfictionwriter · 11 days ago
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Discovery: Part Six
Jessie Fleming x Reader
Summary: With another revelation behind you, Jessie and you continue your exploration of one another and learn even more about each other.
Warnings: G!P content. Smut. A lot of smut. Penetrative sex, risky sex, breeding/preg kink, possessive sex and language, final lingering themes of rejection.
A/N: I've been absolutely blown away by the interest in this fic. Thank you so much everyone - I hope it's met your expectations. If not - message me, maybe something can be done. And again, thank you to @hoe4sports for the original prompt. Rest of the series is here.
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"So...condoms," you finally said.
"Yeah...," Jessie replied slowly as she looked up at you, worry plain on her face. "I'm sorry," she added in a low voice.
You frowned in return. "What for?"
"Um," Jessie's gaze flicked away momentarily before returning to meet yours. "For making things even more difficult." Your face screwed up further.
"There's nothing to apologize for," you assured her as you removed one of her hands from your hips and brought it up to your lips to kiss. "I mean, that would be the equivalent of you telling me I need to apologize for having periods or ovaries," you finished with a faint smirk. Jessie was slow to respond, but eventually allowed a half smile to form on her face.
"I suppose that's true," she finally conceded.
You released her hand, Jessie letting it fall to your thigh and caressing you idly there as you held your chin in thought. Before she could inquire, you swung your leg over her and got off the bed to rummage in the back of your nightstand drawer.
Jessie's brow furrowed in curiosity as she watched you. She was about to inquire when you spoke abruptly, surprising her.
"Oh my God! I knew I there must've been some reason I kept this," you said as you suddenly revealed a condom to her. "My ex used them on her strap," you explained. "I guess it's probably about a year old?"
"Oh," Jessie replied as she reached out for it. "Well, that works." She had to laugh internally. Here you were looking thrilled and here she was trying not to imagine you with some ex getting pounded into the mattress.
"So, you still want to keep going?" She asked one more time.
"Yeah," you answered as if she'd asked something ridiculous. "Do you?"
Jessie gave a light laugh as she glanced down at her still-swollen cock. "Yeah, I'd say I'm still good to go."
You chuckled in approval and she smirked as she brought the package up to her mouth and tore off the top with her teeth. You climbed onto the bed and knelt next to her as she slid the condom over the tip of her cock and rolled it down.
Once it was in place, she looked to you. "So, uh, do you want to be on top again? Then you can, you know, set the pace and such, if you want..."
While she felt confident not even 10 minutes ago, the weight of what you two were about to do was suddenly back upon her. If her sudden uncertainty irked you, you didn't show it.
"Sure," you said, unbothered, as you straddled her once more.
Jessie held her cock for you and you reached down to grasp it as well. She let go right away.
"Oh, yeah, go ahead," she said as she pulled her hand back and rest it on your thigh. You smiled at her and adjusted your position above her.
Jessie bit back a moan as the tip of her cock, though sheathed, pressed against your wet and luscious folds before you settled her at your entrance. She could feel the immense heat through the condom already and exhaled steadily through her nose. Her eyes were locked on how you held her length, poised at your entrance before you started to slowly sink down.
She exhaled through her mouth subtly as she felt you start to stretch around the head of her cock. The way your hot core wrapped around her already felt astounding, combined with the visual of her member ever so slowly slipping inside of you had her blood pumping.
You were tight - so tight - she wanted to groan, to toss her head back, but instead she settled with simply squeezing your thigh and tightening her jaw.
You paused, just the tip of Jessie inside of you at this point. She looked up at you.
"Are you okay? Is this alright?" She asked.
"Yeah," you said in a breathy voice and offered her a smile. "You're just...," your eyes flit away sheepishly, "bigger, than what I normally play with."
"Oh," Jessie said, her face starting to burn hot immediately.
"I also don't typically do much in the way of penetration," you added.
"Oh, well, we don't have to," she offered right away - though the thought of pulling out and ending this now was the last thing she wanted. "Or, you know, take your time - take all the time you need. Is there anything I can do?"
"Jess," you chided mildly through a soft laugh. "I want this. I really do. I'm just taking a moment to adjust. But believe me, I'm jealous of the view you have right now. I'd love to see you sinking inside of me."
"Ffff," Jessie nearly cursed, her hands kneading your thighs once more and you smiled triumphantly at her reaction.
She was going to say something, but you sunk down further onto her. Again, Jessie fought the urge to react to how blissful it felt to feel your walls swallow her, soft and oh so warm, fluttering around her as you breathed and moved. This time, your mouth fell open and your eyes shut as she filled you up and it was did nothing but encourage her.
You hadn't sunk down all the way, but you lifted yourself back up until just her tip was inside of your tight entrance. The movement, your tunnel gripping her and trying to keep her inside of you as you lifted yourself, felt beyond incredible.
This time when you sunk down, you did so quicker and sunk down further - almost to the hilt, but not quite. Jessie exhaled through her lips as she moved her hands to your hips.
You rose up once more, again, taking all of Jessie's concentration to not get lost in the feeling before you sank down - all the way this time, bottoming out and resting on her hips.
"Oh shit," you breathed, your hands gripping her forearms. She was about to ask if you were okay when you rose up and sank down again. "Oh my gosh, you are stretching me out. It's good," you added quickly, holding out a hand in defense, anticipating her line of questions with a laugh. "It's," you gave a cock of your head, "really good." You came to in a way and looked at her. "Are you okay? I didn't even ask."
"Oh. I'm good," she said, trying not to laugh. As if she'd be anything but good.
"Okay," you chuckled as you raised an eyebrow, teasing. "Well. How about we get you to something better than 'good'."
"I don't think you need to worry about that," she told you and any further thoughts ceased as you leaned forward, placing your hands on her shoulders and allowing your hips to move forward enough that she nearly slipped out before you dropped your hips once more.
"Oh, and I should say, same as before," you said softly, "if I'm doing anything you don't like or if there's something else you want me to do, just say so."
Jessie shook her head, slow to pull her eyes away from how your hips were moving. She cleared her throat and looked you in the eyes. "I love everything you're doing. And same - tell me if you don't like anything or want something else."
You nodded rapidly, but didn't seem that focused on her words. Your eyes were now closed again as you rolled your hips against hers.
Soon, your tentative movements were long gone and you were steadily riding her cock, rocking up and down, your mouth agape and eyes closed as you moaned now and then, your head falling back and your breasts swaying. Jessie reached up and grasped both of your breasts in her palms, massaging them and gently pinching your nipples. You moaned further, your hands coming up to hers and encouraging her to knead them even harder.
In time, Jessie found herself subconsciously flexing her hips to meet yours as you fell back to her. The heady moan you released the first time she did it encouraged her and she grasped your hips and continued to meet your gyrations.
"Oh fuck, that's so good, Jess," you praised as she pumped up into you. She bit back a smile at how the sound of your skin on hers started to fill the room. She could hear how wet you were; though it was never a question as she slid in and out of you with ease despite how you gripped every inch of her.
Jessie's stamina was usually one of her strong suits. However, no matter what, given how long it'd been since she'd been with someone, tonight was going to be a challenge. Never mind the fact that she was in love with you, you loved her back, and despite what she'd been expecting this morning, here you were on top of her, making love to her and you looked at her with warmth and want.
Despite the reprieve your earlier blowjob had given her, she wasn't going to last long. She had to make sure you came.
She reached inward with one hand to rest her thumb on your clit and began to circle it gently. Your jaw dropped further and you let a small cry, opening your eyes briefly to look at her with a look somewhere between disbelieving and appreciative.
"Oh my God," you panted. "You're making me feel so good. And God you feel so good inside of me."
Jessie exhaled heavily again as she tried to remain focused. Your walls were flexing around her even tighter than before and it was driving her crazy.
"Mm," you grunted, biting your lower lip as you bounced up and down on her, "I think I'm going to cum soon."
Jessie continued to play with your clit, but nodded rapidly.
"Me too."
You moaned deep in your throat. "That's so hot," you said as you leaned down to capture Jessie's lips with your own. The shift in position made it difficult for her to reach your clit, but you didn't seem fazed at all as you kissed her hungrily, moaning into it. You rode her harder and Jessie had to break off the kiss, gritting her teeth harshly as she did everything she could to stave off her climax.
"Go ahead," you whispered into her ear. "Fuck me harder. And cum for me. I want you to." You gasped in her ear as you continued to ride her and it nearly sent her over the edge.
Jessie exhaled audibly as she gripped your hips tightly. She was so close. Where she was simply meeting your thrusts before, she now held you in place and began to slam her hips up into you, causing cries of pleasure to fall from your lips and she felt you tense up and begin to pulse around her cock.
"Oh fuck, Jess," you said, your voice shuddering as you came, your back arching into her as she continue to pump into you from below. She wrapped her arms around the small of your back and rut into you with enough force that the headboard of the bed began to bang against the wall. Renewed cries from you echoes off the walls and Jessie's vision began to narrow.
A few thrusts in, a blinding heat went through her and all the tension and pleasure she'd held back came over her. A muffled moan came out of her as she began spurting jets of cum into the condom, her hips pushed flush against your heat as she held herself in place as her cock twitched inside of you.
When she finally was drained, her body fell back to the mattress, sinking in and you collapsed on top of her. She held you in her arms and you both breathed heavily, Jessie only belatedly realizing the sheen of sweat on both your bodies.
As she regained her senses, she slowly ran her fingers lightly up and down the curve of your back as you lay spent on top of her. Jessie softened inside of you and at one point you shifted and she felt herself pop out of you. You chuckled and kissed her collarbone.
"Holy fuck," you breathed. "That was amazing."
Jessie chuckled. "You did all the work."
You snickered. "Well, the hottest part was the very end. Holy Christ. That was," you lifted yourself up, bracing yourself on her shoulders as you looked down at her with a crooked grin. "unexpected. But amazing."
"I thought you asked me to." Jessie began to blush.
"I did! And it...exceeded expectations. Let's put it that way," you said as you leaned down once more began to kiss her. She grinned into the kiss initially, but soon it deepened and both your hands and hers began to wander once more.
You began to subtly rock your body against hers as you kissed her sensually and she felt herself began to grow hard yet again.
"Shit," she muttered into the kiss, now distracted by the wasted condom on her hardening cock. "Hold on."
You made room for her as she got up and disposed of the condom. She was partially hard when she returned and she caught the gleam in your eye.
"You wouldn't happen to have another condom in your drawer, would you?" She asked.
You shook your head and Jessie hung hers in disappointment before mustering up a smile for you.
"Well, I'm grateful we got to do anything at all," she said. "I'm happy to do...other things for you. Or if you're done, that's totally fine too."
She watched you intently and saw the wheels in your head turning.
"But what if I want to continue?" You asked as you pulled her back down onto you in a kiss, which she readily met. "What if I want you inside me again?"
Jessie felt herself twitch at your words, her kiss stalling as a wave of arousal went through her. She smiled with a disbelieving shake of her head before kissing you again.
"That's pretty risky, isn't it?" She said, though her hands and yours were beginning to wander once more. She felt you shrug.
"The timing isn't that horrible for me right now. I know there's no such thing as an actual 'safe' time, but it's not the worst. And I can go get Plan B in the morning."
Jessie's mind rattled as you gave your proposition. This was a lot. She would've never entertained the thought with other girls.
"I love you, and I've wanted you for so long now. And I know we just had sex, but...all that's done is make me want you more."
She should say 'no'.
"I can come with you in the morning," she said instead. Another pulse went through her as you moaned softly into the kiss.
"Is that a 'yes'?" You asked as you rolled your hips up into her. She shifted, rubbing her hardening cock between the top of your pussy lips and across your clit. You mewled, head collapsing back into the pillow and she took the opportunity to kiss your neck. You gasped and began running your fingers through her hair, pulling her tighter to you.
"That's a 'yes'," she confirmed as she drew her hips back and rubbed her cock across your clit once more.
She pulled back to look at you and kissed your lips slowly. She spoke in earnest. "I trust you." You kissed her deeply, both hands cupping her face now.
"I trust you, too."
Jessie couldn't believe how all of this was unfolding. It was all too good to be true.
She continued to tease your clit with her cock, relishing the way you writhed beneath her and the way your hands caressed her body, hungry and searching. She eventually reached down to feel you and a shiver shot through her as her fingers were met with a pool of wetness at your entrance.
"God, baby, you're so wet," she said in reverie.
"Jess," you said as she kissed your neck while she held herself above you.
"Yeah?" She asked, stilling her movement, your lips hugging her cock as it rest on your clit.
"This is probably not the time, but, you've opened up so much today. So I can't help but think I should be open too."
She frowned as she lifted her head up to look at you.
"I-," you paused. Your cheeks were red; Jessie assumed from arousal and exertion, but she wasn't sure. "I think...," you trailed off. You exhaled and restarted, holding her gaze. "I think I have a bit of a kink."
That was not what she was expecting.
"O-oh," she said. She waited a couple of seconds for you to carry on, but you didn't. "What kind of kink?"
You inhaled deeply, eyes darting away this time.
"Um. Probably seems a bit counter-intuitive since I've only been with girls for years, but...um. Okay-" you looked back at her "-when you told me you had a cock. I mean, I was of course grateful that you were honest with me and you felt safe telling me. But...it's also. Really hot. Like, maybe you can tell," you laughed, "by the fact that I'm on my back, legs spread for you, but I think it's really sexy. And, um, the fact that you can get me pregnant - not that I want to get pregnant right now," you added adamantly, "makes it even sexier." Your cheeks were bright pink now. "I'm not trying to scare you, I swear. Like, the thought that you can get me pregnant, is outrageously hot to me."
Jessie was about to speak, but you went on in a rush.
"Again, I really don't want to get pregnant right now. So please don't think that's where this is going. I very much know that's a joint decision, much, much further into a relationship. That's why I say it's...well, a kink. The idea is turning me on - so much. I don't want it to be a reality, but the idea, the thought of it, the vision of it, it's making me very wet."
Though Jessie's mind was struggling to keep up, her cock standing tall and strong, aching for more said enough. She'd never really allowed herself to indulge in those thoughts, but what you just described made her throb.
"I'm really sorry if-"
She cut off your apology with a hard kiss as she rolled her hips against your clit once more, eliciting a low moan from you as you wrapped your arms around her shoulders.
She didn't say anything further, instead she reached down, positioning her rock hard cock at your dripping entrance and gently moving her hips to push inside you, an even easier task than before with how aroused you were.
Your fingers dug into her shoulders as you moaned and Jessie's back arched up into your touch as your warmth hugged her tightly, that first sensation of slipping in sending goosebumps across her skin.
"Oh fuck, Jess," you breathed. "God, you feel so fucking good in me. I love the way you fill me up."
Jessie swallowed a deep moan and drew back her hips before she slid home once more, her stroke firm, but gentle. Your hands clawed at her back already and she felt a frenzy starting to build inside of her.
She began to build a steady pace, pumping into you and angling her hips to make sure to hit your g-spot.
"Oh my God," you panted as you spread your legs wider for her, and she suppressed a primal growl at the gesture.
Your fingers began running through her hair, digging into her crown now and then as your pleasure mounted.
"Jess," you breathed. "I want to hear you. Please," you pleaded as one leg wrapped around her waist and your other heel dug into the mattress as you continued to writhe beneath her.
Tension sat in her shoulders as she processed your request. Your fingers dug into her crown again and she allowed a faint moan to escape her throat.
"Mm, yes, just like that," you said as you massaged her scalp and opened yourself up even further; she latched onto your neck and began kissing and sucking on the sensitive skin there as she continued to pump in and out of you.
"Oh God, Jess. You fuck me so good," you praised and Jessie grunted in approval of your words, her pace quickening and beginning to suck harder on your neck.
You panted, your hands still caressing her as you spoke, "You can mark me if you want."
At this, Jessie finally let out a growl. She widened her stance, using her thighs to push your legs further apart, one hand tightening your leg around her waist and holding you as she started to bounce her hips off of yours. The sound of her strong thrusts, amplified by her bare cock slipping in and out of your soaking pussy filled her ears and caused the hairs on the back of her neck to rise.
She latched onto your neck and sucked hard to enough to leave a mark. You gasped and she groaned into the kiss.
"Be careful with what you say," Jessie found herself confessing. "If you tell me you're mine, I don't know if I'll be able to let go."
"Oh fuck," you moaned as your brought your fingers to her back and dug your nails in. "It should be me warning you. If you make me yours I'm going to make you do it again and again."
"Oh shit, Y/N," Jessie panted as she began to thrust into you with greater fervour. She pulled her head back enough to examine her work, sure enough there was a bruise forming where she'd just kissed you. She grinned wickedly. "I'm gonna make you mine. Make sure everyone knows you're taken."
You whimpered under her and she grit her teeth with a groan as your dragged your nails across her skin.
"Fuck. Make me yours, Jess. Please," you begged and she began marking up your chest.
The way you moved beneath her, the sounds you were making, the words you were speaking, the it felt to be buried inside of you, it was driving her wild in a way that was entirely new to her. Your earlier words rang in her head and left her wanting more.
"All I can think about is cumming inside of you," she said as she returned to your mouth and bit your lower lip. "The thought of you taking my cum is so sexy."
"Oh Jesus," you panted as you clutched her to you. "I can feel myself dripping onto the bed. I've never been so turned on. I want your cum so bad. I want to feel you cumming inside of me. Makes me yours in a whole other way."
Jessie groaned in your ear and began to really roll her hips, her knees and feet digging into the bed for leverage as she began to pump into you forcefully enough that the bed began to shift and bang against the wall again.
"I'm gonna make you mine," she panted. "I want my cum deep inside of you. Spilling out of you. And fuck, maybe one day it'll take."
"Oh God. Jess, I'm going to cum," you said as you covered your face with your hands, helpless to do anything else as she not only fucked you, but talked you towards your orgasm.
Jessie continued to thrust into you, pressing your body into the mattress with every stroke. Your heat felt like bliss around her and she felt you tightening around her.
"I'm gonna cum," she warned you.
"Please baby," you gasped as you wrapped your legs tightly around her waist. "Cum inside me."
Sweat was beading on her forehead as that tightness between her legs mounted ever more. You cried her name and began to convulse around her, your nails now scratching up her back. She grunted as she thrust into you deeply and coated the inside of your core with ropes of hot cum. She groaned as she poured herself into you, digging her feet into the mattress as she buried herself as deep into you as she could.
You might high and desperate in her ear and she let out a few more guttural moans as she drained herself inside of you.
"Oh my God," you finally panted after Jessie fell slack on top of you, shifting to the side slightly to not put her entire weight on you.
Jessie's mind and body was still in a daze and it was several more seconds before she finally became aware of you idly stroking her hair.
"Are you okay?" She asked, as she lifted herself to look at you.
"Um," you chuckled lightly, bringing a hand up to rub your face, "I'm, um, a little concerned that that is the only kind of sex I'm going to want from now on."
Jessie exhaled into a laugh as she kissed your neck, already pulling another soft moan out of you.
"Shit, me too," she chuckled. "So you liked it?" She asked as her eyebrows rose in question.
You gave her a disbelieving look. "Are you serious? I have never orgasmed like that in my life. Oh my gosh. But I guess you wouldn't know that. I'm sure if you check the sheets you'll see evidence of how much I enjoyed it."
Maybe you were being facetious, but Jessie couldn't help herself and she pulled herself up onto her knees and looked down. Her cock drew out of you to the tip and her jaw dropped at the sight of her length coated in sticky, white cum from both of you and, sure enough, cum dripping down your cheeks onto the soaked sheets.
"Holy fuck, babe," she said as she shifted your legs outward just to even better appreciate the view. "Fuck, it's going to make me hard again."
Her jaw fell further as you reached out and began to stroke her length between your fingers, rubbing your cum all along her.
"That wouldn't be so bad," you teased. Jessie's chest rumbled as she gave you a look of warning.
"Jesus," she breathed as she felt herself hardening yet again and she pushed herself slowly back inside of you, adoring the way your lips wrapped around her and how a ring of cum formed at her base. She looked up when you moaned to see your head falling back into the pillows once more.
"Oh, baby," she said once more as she took in the sight before her. "You look so gorgeous with your legs spread for me."
"Oh God," you said as you dug your head further back into the pillow and ran your fingers through your own hair, shifting restlessly beneath her.
Her thrusts, though slow, still sounded wet and messy. You looked down your body at her devilishly.
"I can hear how much cum you pumped inside of me."
"Mmm," Jessie groaned as she sunk into you, pausing as she held herself deep inside. "How do you know exactly what I want to hear?"
You placed a hand on the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. "I think we're a good match for a reason." She moaned into the kiss and began to pump into you with stronger movements.
"God, I can't tell you how full you make me feel," you gasped as you broke off the kiss, guiding her lips back down to your neck.
"And you feel so fucking good around me. I can barely think," she said.
"Mm, well," you trailed a finger down her spine, sending a shiver through her, "this pussy is all yours. I want you to claim it."
Another primal rush coursed through Jessie's veins at your words. It felt like her skin was prickling - pins and needles - like she was itching to let go and find release. She grunted as she grabbed your legs and pushed them forward, pressing you further into the mattress and resting your ankles on her shoulders. You let out a cry of pleasure as she began to move into you with swift, strong thrusts that left the mattress creaking below you.
Jessie grinned as you whimpered and moaned with every stroke, your nails clawing at her flexed biceps.
"Oh fuck, that's so good, Jess. Oh God, don't stop," you begged.
"Your neighbours are going to know this pussy is mine, too," she declared. "They're going to blush anytime they see you because all they'll picture is you calling out my name."
You released another shuddering moan and Jessie continued to work you over, letting out months of pent up frustrations and leaning into untapped, dormant instincts as she made sure that even if you wanted to move on, no one else would compare.
She continued to pump into you, headboard now certainly leaving dents in your wall before you eventually pushed lightly against her shoulders.
"I have to move," you told her gently and she pulled back right away.
"Sorry," she said and you immediately cut her off.
"Do not be sorry. I'm fucking dripping wet. I just need to shift. How about...," you trailed off and pushed her back a bit again to give you room to climb up onto your hands and knees, presenting your cum-filled pussy for her.
"Holy fuck, you're a vision," she said as she ran her fingers through your folds, adoring the sound and look. You peeked over your shoulder at her with a grin.
Jessie stroked herself a couple of times as she settled in behind you.
"God, you are incredible," she breathed as she took her time watching how your entrance stretched out around her head to accommodate her. She exhaled, her mouth in an 'o' as she watched her cock disappear inside of you.
"Oh fuck, baby," you moaned as you immediately dropped from your hands to your forearms. Your back arched deliciously in front of Jessie and she immediately ran her palms along from your ass to your shoulders and drawing a needy mewl from you. "Fuck me, Jess."
You didn't need to ask twice. She drew her hips back, purposefully withdrawing from you altogether and smiling as you groaned in disappointment before she slipped back in and to the hilt; her bottoming out punctuated by a high moan from you.
She started off slow and steady, teasing you to some degree before she picked up her pace and was soon thrusting in and out of you more rapidly.
Her hands settled on your waist to balance herself as she fucked you, but eventually she shifted one hand down to rest on the lower part of your stomach.
"Jess," you moaned as you reached a hand back to lace your fingers together on your stomach.
An image flashed through her mind of you round and heavy with her baby and she blinked it away for now. That could be something she indulged in far more later. Still, she pressed her fingers into your stomach, caressing you and you moaned deeply, pushing your hips back into hers.
She moved her hand down further and began rubbing your clit. It wasn't long before your legs began to quiver.
This time you gave no notice and you began to spasm and clench around her as you buried your face into the bed, your scream muffled by the mattress.
With your tunnel gripping and massaging her the way it was, it only took a few seconds for her to cum with you. She groaned and her left hand dug into your hip as she pushed herself inside of you, climbing further over you to get as deep as possible as she spilled her seed into your waiting heat once more. She could feel herself pulsing inside of you and she let her head fall back, eyes blinking up at the ceiling as pleasure overtook her entire body.
"Fuck," she panted as she slowly rut into you a couple more times as the final spurts of cum drained from her cock into your waiting pussy.
You collapsed beneath her, her falling to the mattress with you and remaining sheathed inside of your warmth.
Neither of you spoke for what felt like several minutes, though Jessie laid the odd kiss on your shoulder as you both recovered. Finally, she lifted herself off of you, withdrawing as she did so. You groaned in disappointment.
"I liked having you in me and on top of me," you complained.
Jessie was entirely distracted by the cum that overflowed out of you and onto the sheets instead.
"God, I wish you could see this," she said.
You rolled over and reached down. Jessie's cock twitched as she watched you dip your fingers inside of you before pulling out, a thick string of cum bridging from your entrance to your fingers. Your jaw dropped and your eyes flicked up to her.
"Wow," is all you managed to say at first as you examined the cum on your fingers, spreading your digits and seeing the cum stretch between them. "You really did a number on me," you teased and she couldn't help but blush lightly.
You wrapped your mouth around your fingers and sucked her cum off of them. Jessie wore a lopsided grin as she watched you in awe.
"I'm going to be thinking of this night for a very long time," you chuckled as you relaxed into the bed and Jessie came up to lay next to you. You cuddled into her and she kissed the top of your head.
"Oh my God. If the quality of sex alone could get a girl pregnant, fuck, I'm a goner for sure," you told her.
Jessie chuckled. "Well, let's get you that Plan B sooner rather than later, then."
"Seriously," you laughed. "So much for us taking it slow."
As you rest in Jessie's arms, her mind raced to reconcile everything that had just occurred. It was even better than anything she'd dreamt of. You sighed contentedly and snuggled your head further into her shoulder.
She was nearly overwhelmed with emotion as she held you. She'd made girls cum before, numerous times; they'd made her cum, too. But having someone she loved, and someone who loved her, sleeping in her arms after the fact is something that was new to her. Something she'd wanted for so long, but felt easier to dismiss and forget about than to risk being disappointed and hurt.
Yet, here you were in her arms. She squeezed you and kissed your head once more. She didn't want to fall asleep. She wanted this moment to last.
-----
She had no idea what time it was when she fell asleep, but her sleep was both great and restless. It felt astounding to fall asleep with you, but despite everything, she woke up several times, some lingering vigilance preventing her from fully relaxing.
She knew this reaction wasn't logical with you. Everything you'd just shared today and been building over the past few months should assure her otherwise, but she was used to waking up to a cold bed, a girl making an excuse to leave, or even being handed her clothes with an impersonal goodbye.
She woke once as you shifted and got out of bed. Her heart immediately raced as she quietly watched you leave the room. She heard you in the bathroom and you came back a few minutes later and climbed back in next to her.
"Are you alright?" Jessie asked.
"Oh, sorry, babe. I didn't mean to wake you," you whispered as you cuddled into her. "I'm fine. Are you okay?"
Jessie calmed immediately as she felt your warm skin upon hers. "I'm okay."
You sighed quietly and kissed her shoulder. "I love you," you said as you settled in further and quickly fell asleep once more. Jessie was soon to follow.
-----
When she woke next, the sun filtered into the bedroom and illuminated her surroundings. She glanced over to see you in bed next to her still fast asleep.
She exhaled quietly, giving herself permission to remain relaxed and calm. Still, a faint spark of apprehension threatened to burn brighter in her chest. She couldn't shake this old feeling that she was going to be asked to leave. It didn't make any sense; there was no reason for her to expect you to do that, but she couldn't fully snuff out the worry.
When you stirred from your sleep a while later, you immediately smiled upon seeing her and kissed her arm.
"Morning, baby," you greeted.
"Good morning," Jessie smiled.
You asked her how she slept, how she was feeling and Jessie did her best, still, eventually you frowned lightly at her.
"Are you okay?" You asked. "You seem a bit...off."
"I'm okay," she tried to reassure you. You rose up onto your elbow and continued.
"Well, I can understand if you have a lot on your mind. We," you chuckled slightly, a wry smirk on your face, "covered a lot of ground last night. It's okay if you're, I don't know, having second thoughts or concerned. And don't worry - I'm going to the pharmacy as soon as I drag myself out of bed."
Jessie's M.O. was to just clam up and deflect. But, as she looked at you watching her with love and concern, she didn't want to this time. She couldn't.
"I don't know," she started shyly. "I guess, I don't know, some stupid part of me is still expecting to be kicked out. Like, okay, you got what you wanted and now I'm not needed. I know what we have is so much more than that and you're not like that at all, but I guess I can't fully block it out."
Your mouth fell into a frown and you cupped her cheek to kiss her.
"That is not the case at all, baby. I hate that you've been discarded like that. You never deserved to be treated that way," you said softly. "I want you to stay. Very much so."
Jessie managed a smile for you and you kissed her sweetly once more.
"And thank you for telling me. I really appreciate you being open," you added.
She cracked a smirk. "Well, if I want you to keep me, I've gotta communicate a bit better. Make it a little easier for you to stick around."
You shook your head at her with the most adoring look.
"I’m not going anywhere.”
Tag requests: @multifandomlesbianic @marvelwomen-simp @kathleenmikaelson
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navybrat817 · 4 months ago
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Hold You Tight: Part 3
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Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.
Part 2 | Series Masterlist | Part 4
Chapter Summary: The date is just beginning, but you're not sure if you can keep it together.
Chapter Word Count: Over 3.8k
Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, stalking, coercion, threats (not against reader), creepy and unhinged behavior, possessiveness, manipulation, mental and emotional whiplash, reader is trying to stay calm, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.
A/N: More Hold You Tight! Hope you lovelies enjoy and thank you again for the feedback so far! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
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You took a deep breath and another, but it didn’t stop your heart from picking up in your chest. It was a feat that your legs didn’t give out. Your throat felt rough and raw, except you hadn’t screamed. You hadn’t made a sound. Not until Bucky moved toward you, pulling a whimper from you.
“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” he said, cupping your face with a smile. You wanted to believe there was a warmth behind it or that he had a voice in his head telling him that this wasn’t right. That none of this was right. “Don’t you like them?”
“The flowers. The guy who bought them…” you swallowed, wondering exactly who he was and how he was associated with Bucky. Did Bucky know him well or was he a stranger? Did he bribe him into going into his shop?
“Oh, he’s fine,” Bucky assured you, which didn’t make you feel any better. “Loved the tulips you helped pick out for him. I know his girl will be very happy to get them, too.”
The citrus and woodsy combination of Bucky’s cologne filled your nostrils as you took another deep breath. You expected to stumble back when he suddenly crouched down, but you didn’t budge an inch. Once again, you were frozen in fear. Why couldn’t you move? You told yourself he wouldn’t hurt you. Why bother dragging you all the way to his place for that when he could’ve done so in your home?
Or, apparently, your place of work.
“Why don’t we have some of that wine after I show you around?” He asked, retrieving the clutch you dropped.
“Do you really expect me to just sit and have a drink with you?”
“Not just a drink,” he said, slowly standing and reminding you just how large he was. “Dinner. Dessert.”
“Where’s the bathroom?” You asked.
He nodded over your shoulders. “There’s one right behind you.”
You turned and went into the bathroom, careful not to lock the door behind you as much as you wanted to. He may have broken down the door if you tried. You gripped the sink as you struggled to take your next breath, blood rushing in your ears as you looked at your reflection. A voice in the back of your mind whispered to stay calm when tears threatened to spill over for the second time that evening.
Could you though? Could you play along and get through this night without having some sort of breakdown? You had to try.
Your attention was pulled away by the soft knock on the door. “Is everything okay?”
“Would you care if I wasn't?” You asked before you could stop yourself.
The door opened a heartbeat later, but you didn't dare meet his gaze in the mirror as he approached. Not even as he pressed himself against your back, your body trapped between his and the sink. It was suffocating. He brought a hand up to lift your chin, forcing your eyes to lock with his. The light above the mirror put a spotlight on the intensity of his gaze as his lips brushed your ear.
“I care more than you think,” he whispered, turning you to face him. His fingers traced the column of your neck before he let go. “In time, I know you’ll see that.”
You fought the urge to laugh as he led you back into the entryway. If he cared, he would’ve gone about this whole thing differently. You focused your attention instead on the penthouse, taking in more of the decor as he showed you around. As immaculate as the place looked, it lacked a personal touch. Where were the photos? Trinkets?
“What do you think?”
“It’s a beautiful place,” you answered. And it was beautiful, but it didn't feel like a home or lived in like your place.
“A bit spacious for just me,” he said, glancing at you. Was it his roundabout way of stating again how he expected you to move in?
“Yeah, it’s a lot for one person, but it’s still nice.”
He nodded in agreement. “The couch is comfortable if you ever want to take a nap,” he said, an almost knowing look in his eyes as you stopped at the living room. Jesus, did he know you slept on your couch last night? “Though I’d prefer you sleep in our bed.”
“Our” bed. Not subtle at all. “I know you said this would be my place one day, too, but maybe we should get well past the first date before we talk about sharing a bed,” you said, sarcastically adding, “I hog the blankets, so I hope you're prepared for that.”
He chuckled and you wished you didn't like the pleasant sound. “You can have as many blankets as you want. And I had every intention of showing you the master bedroom tonight, but I think I’ll wait.”
“Really?” You asked, hoping you didn't sound too eager to avoid seeing it. Was there a catch?
“Really,” he said, pulling you close by the hips. Through his clothes, you felt how firm he was. There was strength there you couldn't match. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else. And when I take you to bed, I’m going to ruin you. That's a promise.”
A shuddering breath left your lungs as he leaned in, his lips skimming yours.
“But I’m not the monster you think I am, which is why I’m going to wait,” he whispered.
It was a relief that Bucky wasn't going to take you to bed. Not tonight, at least. At the same time, what exactly was he waiting for? He made it clear that he wanted you and wasn't going to let go. What game was he playing?
Thinking about it was enough to drive you mad.
“And you won't hurt me?” You questioned. You had to hear him say it.
“I’d never hurt you,” he promised, pulling away at the two knocks on the front door.
He wouldn't hurt you, but what about other people?
“Chef’s here, boss,” the guard’s voice rang out.
“Perfect timing,” Bucky smiled.
He kept a hand on you as he guided you to the kitchen, the guard and who you assumed to be the chef entering seconds later. “Mr. Barnes, so good to see you.”
“You as well,” Bucky replied, his demeanor professional and somewhat colder.
Your eyes went back to the guard as Bucky chatted with the chef. He seemed to avoid your gaze, keeping his eye instead on the two men speaking. Did he know the circumstances that brought you here? Would he care if he did?
“You’re sure this is what you’d like, Mr. Barnes? This is a relatively simple meal,” the chef scoffed, making a show of gesturing to the ingredients. It dawned on you as you looked at them that he was going to prepare one of your favorite meals. Your stomach dropped, but you kept quiet. Of course, Bucky knew.
And of course, it wasn't sophisticated.
Bucky’s jaw twitched as if he sensed your embarrassment. The guard didn't look impressed by the chef’s comment either. “It’s her favorite. Are you insulting my girl’s taste?” he spoke, making you shiver from the ice in his tone.
“No, Mr. Barnes. Of course not! I meant no disrespect.” The chef shook his head, meeting your gaze with a shaky smile. “To be simple is to be great.”
“That’s right. Simplicity is also to be respected,” Bucky said, pointing a gloved finger at him. “And with your reputation, it better be the best meal she has ever had. I’d hate to see what happens if she doesn’t like it.”
“It’s fine,” you whispered. It was better to focus on easing the situation instead of yet another reminder that he knew another intimate detail about you. That and you felt bad as the man behind the counter began to sweat. “I’m sure the meal will be delicious. Thank you for taking the time to come here and prepare it.”
The tension dissipated as Bucky softly smiled at you, a crisis averted for the time being. “We’re going to enjoy our wine on the balcony while he prepares our meal,” he told the guard. “Keep an eye on him.”
“Will do.”
Bucky took you away from the kitchen before the chef could speak another word to you. Fresh air might help you breathe easier. He opened the glass door, the night breeze making you shiver as you stepped outside. The view of the city stretched on and the moon and stars lit up the sky. It was breathtaking.
You jumped when Bucky put his jacket around your shoulders. The romantic gesture felt like a claim. “I hope his comment didn't upset you. If it did-”
“It’s fine. Really,” you assured him, glancing at the two-seater table as he pulled out a chair for you. Two glasses were set out as well, along with what you knew to be an expensive bottle of wine. “This is gorgeous.”
“It is,” he agreed, your cheeks flaming when you saw him looking at you instead of the view.
“Do you spend a lot of time out here?” You asked.
He popped the cork on the bottle and poured each of you a small amount. You almost thanked him for that. You had to keep your wits about you.
“Not as much as I’d like to,” he said, nodding to a small sofa in the corner as he took a seat. “But I do like to read out here.”
“You read in your free time?” You asked, biting back a moan when you sipped the wine.
His eyes lit up and just as quickly darkened when you licked your lips. “I do. Reading has always been a hobby of mine. I even have first editions of some of my favorite books.”
“That’s really nice,” you smiled. For a moment it felt like the two of you were having a normal conversation.
That good feeling went away when he took out a velvet box.
“Can’t forget about the surprise,” he smiled before he handed it over. It looked too long to be a ring box, thankfully, but it wouldn't have surprised you if there was an engagement ring inside. Which was likely why your hand shook as you opened it.
The diamond pendant was stunning enough to make you gasp. Five stones each a different shape, they sparkled under the moonlight. The kind of necklace you could only dream of having.
“Bucky, I’m sorry.” You shut the box and slid it back across the table toward him. “I can’t accept this.”
His gaze flickered to the box before he looked at you again. You wanted to believe he looked concerned, but he hadn’t exactly taken any of your feelings into consideration so far. “Why not? We can pick out another together if you’d rather have something else.”
“I can’t accept it because it’s too much,” you said. Accepting the gift would make the situation more real.
He chuckled after a moment. “No, it isn't. Nothing would ever be too much for me to give to you.”
You reached across to tap the top of the box. “Bucky, this is the kind of gift that you give to your wife or fiancé or girlfriend. Hell, maybe a mistress or a sugar baby. I’m none of those things.” Something flickered in his gaze and that should’ve been your warning to stop, but you kept going anyway. “I’m not your girl.”
He took your hand before you could pull it away, his jaw clenched. “You’re right about one thing. You’re not my mistress or a sugar baby,” he agreed. “You could never be those things because you are the only one I see.”
But why? It didn’t make any sense to you. “But-”
“Girlfriend, fiancé, wife,” he ticked off with the fingers of his free hand. “We'll get to all those phases of our relationship, so you might as well accept this gift now or you'll be accepting much more than this later.”
You swallowed, but didn’t attempt to pull away. His grip didn’t hurt and you didn’t know exactly what he was implying, but you didn’t want to find out tonight. Not when he promised he wouldn’t drag you off to his room. “Thank you for the wonderful gift.”
He smiled and took the box as he stood. You didn't protest as he moved to put the necklace around your neck nor did you flinch when his fingers moved along on your skin. When he sat back down, he sighed and lovingly looked you over. “It's beautiful. Just like I knew it would be on you."
You touched it after a moment, the feel of his fingertips still lingering. “I didn't expect something so nice for a first date.”
“This is only the beginning.” He tilted his head and let his eyes watch you trace the delicate gems. “You deserve so much more.”
“Is this some elaborate joke?” You scoffed a bit. He sounded so sure of himself, that he believed you deserved the world. But why? “You do realize that I'm just a florist. And I don't say that to belittle my career because I love what I do, but I'm nothing special.”
Sadness took over his eyes. “Why would you say that?”
You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth. This wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have with the stranger who broke into your home. You didn’t want to have any sort of conversation tonight. “Because I don't own the flower shop I work at. I'm not rich. Hell, I lived with a roommate until last year just to save up and afford my own place. You should know since you researched me,” you said without a trace of bitterness. “I’m not a party girl. I don't turn heads wherever I go. I just want to work with my flowers, go home, and live a simple little life.”
His eyes followed the motion of you biting your lip again before he shook his head. “You think being rich and owning a business are the things it takes to make someone special?”
“No, I don't think that.”
“Then what does?”
You looked around the balcony with a sigh before meeting his gaze again. “Who a person is makes them special.”
“Yet everything you stated has nothing to do with who you are. So I’ll ask again, why would you say you're nothing special?”
You didn't know how to respond. You thought he would’ve just dropped the conversation, so you looked into your lap with a shake of your head. If you were special, wouldn’t you have found someone by now the way Addision and your other friends had? You didn’t want to pour out your insecurities, even if he seemed to hold an invisible knife and was ready to cut them open. “I don't know. I just know I’m not.”
He hummed a little. “So, would someone who is nothing special make homemade meals for her neighbor because she recently had a baby and probably wouldn't have time to cook for herself?”
Your head snapped up so fast you nearly hurt yourself. “How-”
“And not only are you in Addison's wedding party, you offered to have her flowers done so she could have more money for her honeymoon. You're telling me that being caring and thoughtful doesn’t make a person special?”
Goosebumps raised on your skin, realizing just how thorough he was in his research of you. “How do you know all of that about me?” Tears sprang to your eyes and you blinked them back. “I didn't tell anyone about my neighbor or the flowers.”
He cracked a small smile. “That's one of the things that makes you special. You don't do those things expecting anything in return and you sure as hell don't do it to brag. You do them because you care.” He took a second to lean back in his seat, his eyes still on you. “When I see something I want, I give it my all. And I'm not afraid to use my resources. I told you, I like to be thorough.”
You giggled. A hysterical sort of giggle. One that scared you because you had never laughed like that. “I don't know if I can do this,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I shouldn't be here. I should be getting a restraining order.”
Bucky didn't look offended in the slightest. “You could try. Do you think it’ll stop me?”
What little resolve you had left snapped. “Oh, my god. Do you hear yourself? I mean, really hear yourself?!” You snapped, tempted to throw the remainder of your wine on him when he didn’t react. “You know what a first date is, right? It’s two people trying to get to know each other and to see if there’s a mutual connection. You didn’t give me a chance to form a connection with you because you decided it for me after you stalked me.”
His brows pinched like you hurt his feelings. “Doll-”
“You know ‘everything’ about me, but what do I know about you, huh?” You continued, your anxiety bubbling over. “I know that you own a club and that you break into homes and scare the shit out of people. Oh, and that you read. And you apparently have the world at your fingertips since you can send people into my place of work and find out details about me that most aren’t privy to. You could probably use those resources of yours for good or to help others, but you used them to dig into my life when I didn't ask you to!”
“Some people do research before a first date,” he pointed out, not raising his voice.
“Not a full background check! I’m not an employee of yours and I’m not a toy for you to play with!” You huffed as you sat back, suddenly exhausted. How was he unphased? “You really think you have a say in my future? Are you that much of a control freak that you think you can control me?”
The silence stretched on as Bucky considered you and your body trembled as he idly sipped his wine. You weren’t the type to snap and you suddenly felt the urge to apologize for your outburst, which wasn’t fair. He put you in this situation, so why did you want to make it better?
Because you didn’t know what he would do.
“I’m not trying to control you,” he stated, handing you a handkerchief.
“It feels like you are and that isn’t fair,” you said, dabbing at your eyes. Life wasn’t exactly fair though, was it? “And for the record, the only reason I’m not tossing this wine on you is because it’s delicious and it would be a waste.”
His nose scrunched as he laughed. “I wish you could’ve met my mom. She would’ve loved you,” he said so softly you almost missed it, the change in topic jarring to say the least. What happened to her? “I’ve tried traditional dating. It doesn’t and hasn’t worked for me so far. The last woman I dated? She tried to rob me, if you can believe that.”
You sighed, still a bit worn out from your rant. “I can,” you said. There were greedy people in the world and he seemed to have more than enough to provide others with a comfortable life. It wasn’t right that someone tried to take what he earned.
It also wasn’t right what he was doing to you.
“In my line of work, everyone wants something from me. Money, power, favors. It’s hard to trust people,” he said, his gaze surprisingly soft as he took your hand again. “But not you.”
“Because that’s not the kind of person I am,” you guessed.
You were in many ways the opposite of him. While you weren’t poor, you certainly weren’t rich or powerful and didn’t want to use people for your gain. Perhaps that was why he wanted you so badly. You were someone who didn’t want anything from him. Someone like you was easy for him to control since you didn’t run in that kind of circle, even if he said he wasn’t trying to.
Maybe you should have put up a fight instead of making yourself an easy target.
Wait, why were you blaming yourself?
“I know it isn’t,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze. “So, maybe I’m a control freak and maybe my approach is a bit extreme, but I don't want to control you. I like who you are, doll. You’re loyal and caring and real. The kind of person I want and need.”
You took a sip of wine so you didn't have to respond. He needed you, so he said, but did you need him? And why did his praise warm your insides? You didn't want it to feel nice.
“And maybe I like that you aren’t the kind of person who has a hidden agenda and that you aren’t a party girl. Even you snapping at me. I love that fire. I want more of it. Burn me with it if you want,” he continued, sweeping his gaze over you once again. “Fuck, I can’t take my eyes off you. And I can't stop thinking about you.”
The look in his eyes put you on edge. “But we-”
“You’re good for me and you may not believe I’m good for you, but I am. We’re right for each other,” he said. The fierce determination in his gaze almost had you believing it. “And aren’t you tired of being lonely? I know I am.”
Loneliness could eat away at a person. Drive them to do desperate things. It didn't excuse his actions.
“Lonely or not, you can't force us to be together,” you said.
“I’m not forcing us to be together. You chose to be here tonight.”
“You know why I came here,” you argued. He had to know you did this because of his threat. “And I’ll behave or do whatever I need to do for the rest of the night, but I can't promise anything beyond that.”
Instead of anger like you expected, he smiled. Like a wolf flashing his teeth before sinking into its prey. “That’s okay because I have a promise for you,” he began, the flame dancing in his eyes. “You’ll be out of your apartment before the end of the month.”
The balcony door opening covered up the wheeze you let out, but didn't hide the despair written all over your face. He couldn't be serious. “Dinner’s ready,” the guard stated.
Bucky didn't spare him a glance as he stood and kept your hand in his, your appetite gone as his smile widened. “C’mon, doll. Better not let it get cold.”
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Ooh. Will he really have you out of your place that soon? How awkward will that meal be? And who do we think this guard is? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
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marie-m-art · 2 months ago
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Good Animated Omens - Behind the Scenes
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Here's a behind-the-scenes look at the walk cycles I animated of Aziraphale and Crowley (original post here).
I'll reiterate that the character designs are @lookitsstevie's creation! I made builds in Toonboom Harmony based on their designs, and then animated the builds.
Long post under the cut, organized into four parts. Feel free to jump around or just click through the images and gifs to get an idea of the gist. (At least take a look at Part IV, where you'll see a version of Aziraphale without his jacket and a closeup of Crowley's torso!)
Hopefully this is interesting even if you don't know the first thing about animation. It's not a step-by-step-from-scratch tutorial, but it might give animators some ideas to think about when trying this software!
I'm happy to answer questions about what I cover here - comments, DM's, or ask-box questions are all fine by me. If you like any of the new gifs and want to reblog it on its own, I can make new posts for those upon request! (I'd prefer you don't reupload them, but if you do please at least credit me with a tag to my account - thank you!!)
Part I: The interface and some basics
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Above is a screencap of the software interface.
In the centre is the Camera window, where all the drawing and animating is done. 
To the left, the Node View. It's a representation of how the pieces and layers that make the characters are grouped and connected to each other, which is what makes a character "build". Every piece in this window is called a node, and there are different types. Light blue "drawing nodes" contain the drawings themselves. Each drawing node usually has a green "peg" attached; the peg is used to move and rotate the drawing piece; you set a pivot point on each peg. Light grey nodes are groups that have more nodes within, and dark blue nodes are added effects (eg masks, the blur for the halo, etc).
Below, the Timeline - it's where keyframes are set and tweened. The red square dots indicate there is a new keyframe on a particular frame; the white dots indicate keyframes are on layers nested somewhere under the topmost visible layer. All the pieces of the characters can be found in the timeline and correspond to the pieces that exist in the Node View (and Camera). Typically you work with a collapsed view of the build layers in the timeline, which allows you to set keyframes on multiple layers at once.
To the right, a few tabs in this window - Tool Properties, Colour Palettes, and, shown on top here, the Library. The library is where you store your builds, so that you can bring in a fresh copy when animating a new scene. This library tab also has the Drawing Substitution window, which shows thumbnails of every drawing contained in a drawing node when that node is selected.
A second of animation is 24 frames long. Finished animation will often have keyframes on every second frame with the tweens removed, to help simulate the look and feel of traditional animation - this is known as animating "on twos", and saved time, money and paper in the old days. If you leave the tweens on, and/or have keyframes on every frame, the animation is "on ones".
My walks are on twos - it's the look I prefer.
When I say "tween" I'm specifically referring to the software feature that will automatically calculate and interpolate the path between two different poses/keys of a peg. An inbetween could be the result of using a tween, a new drawing, or both. On twos, an inbetween will look the same as any other keyframe on the timeline when you're finished - its relevance as a concept is during the process, not the end result.
Quality animation is achieved via a combination of moving/tweening pre-existing drawings using their pegs, and adding new drawings as hand-drawn inbetweens when needed. Toonboom Harmony also has nodes called "deformers": they offer a way to tween the shape of a drawing without needing to redraw inside the drawing node. (Part IV has the explanation for which pieces I used them for, and why.)
Part II: Navigating the builds
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This is what their default poses with no animation look like.
Animation using builds is sometimes colloquially referred to as "puppet-style animation" because the way you can connect body parts to each other feels like making and handling a 2D digital puppet: you can connect a hand to a forearm so that they can move as a unit, and you can connect that unit to an upper arm to move the whole arm as a unit, and that arm gets connected to the torso, and so on.
When you want to connect two pieces, like a hand to a forearm, then you create another peg in the Node View and attach the two body parts together under that new peg. The screencaps below show the nodes that make up Aziraphale's and Crowley's entire builds inside their respective groups:
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Things got a bit sloppy ... It looks extremely complicated, but once it's set up, you don't have to think about it too much when you're animating!
And I've zoomed in on the nodes that make their arms so you can see how there are pegs on top of pegs (all the green nodes), with wires connecting everything:
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As I explained in Part I, new drawings are added and contained within a body part's drawing node (the light blue ones under the green ones), and the Drawing Substitution window is where you can see all the drawings that exist in a particular node. In the timeline, you set keyframes for moving the pegs, and you also choose which frame the new drawings will appear when applicable. You might have a lot of drawings stored in the nodes, but only what you set to appear in the timeline will be visible in the final animation.
You can select a body part in the camera view, and then find the corresponding layer in the Timeline or the Node View by pressing the "o" keyboard shortcut. If you select a body part by clicking on it, and then press the "b" keyboard shortcut, you will jump up to the next peg it's connected to. You can hide and unhide pieces using "d" and "a" respectively.
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In the first capture above, I'm showing that the arm pieces can be moved separately or together, and you can see how the pegs in the Node View light up when I select them in the Camera window (hiding them turns them red). In the second capture, I pop down to the timeline to step back and forth between the poses - the light grey row (it appears between the rows of red dots) represents the hand's drawing node in the timeline.
Part III: Summary of animation process
In my head I imagined how their walks would differ from each other - Aziraphale bouncier but with very straight posture and limited arm movement, vs Crowley slinking and swaggering all over.
I also knew that I wanted the animation to look good for both a walking-on-the-spot version, and as a version walking across the screen (both versions are at the top of the post!).
Then I started doing some rough animation.
I set aside my finished builds for the roughs. For each character, I made a few drawing nodes and two pegs; a peg for the up-and-down upper body motion, which I tweened, and a peg for moving them across the screen. The legs and arms are drawing substitutions.
With these extremely rudimentary rough "builds", I worked out - how many frames long the walks would be, - how far the characters would move across the screen each step, - how much the upper bodies would move up and down, and - the key drawings of the legs and feet.
I didn't worry about animating clothing, hair, or Azi's arms in the rough stage. For those elements, the drawings would be spaced really close together and would be easier to figure out with tweens. (Note: this rudimentary setup would be sufficient if you want to clean up and inbetween characters by hand frame-by-frame instead of making full builds; my preference is build animation because the process is more fun for me)
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Then I started working with the finished builds, using the roughs as a guide, and established the broadest motions first: the up-and-down motion in the upper bodies (I set a keyframe at the lowest point, a keyframe at the highest point, then tweened between them) and how far they'd travel across the screen. Then the feet were done.
I went back and forth between viewing them walking on the spot and walking across the screen to make sure that both versions worked. I also made sure they crossed the same amount of ground relative to each other.
After those crucial parts, I moved on to animating their arms, hair, torsos, clothing details, and finishing the legs, not necessarily in that order. I simulated twisting/rotating their torsos in 3d space by moving their waistcoats and lapels.
The first gif switches back and forth between versions (imagine a background scrolling by when they walk on the spot). The second gif is an example of bad "footslip" - they're moving at different speeds, and if you pay attention to their feet, Aziraphale appears to slip on ice while Crowley appears to slide forward on skates.
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"You go too fast for me, Crowley!"
Part IV: Extras and details
Here is a version of Aziraphale's walk without his jacket, and a closeup of Crowley so you can see his swaying hips better:
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One of the cool things about animating with builds is they lend themselves well to small modifications; the jacketless version took all of five minutes to make.
I'd be remiss not to include a close-up of Aziraphale's hair, the real star of the animation :) (Crowley's hair is also animated but I purposefully kept it understated since it's a much different texture.) And a closeup image of Crowley's snake tattoo:
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The biggest unit for both of them are their upper bodies, which includes their pelvises. The up-and-down motion is only on one peg instead of on every single piece, which is handy because it means I can hide just that part of the animation when I want to work on the clothing details:
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During the process of animation, I am often hiding then unhiding pieces like this so I can see what I'm doing.
Their clothing ended up being a lot of separate pieces, which I kept adding during animation rather than before, as it was hard to predict everything I needed. Their clothing also incorporates cutters (aka masks), and deformers (see explanation in Part I). In the next set of gifs the deformers show up as green outlines with handles and get turned on and off.
Aziraphale's torso functions as a mask for his clothing. The shape of his torso subtly changes via deformer. His lapels and waistcoat have V shapes that are masks/cutters (they cut a V shape out of those pieces); the same pieces that make the cutters also are used for the black lines of those V shapes via a special layering setup. The main shapes of his lapels are animated with deformers, and you can see how far beyond his torso shape they extend when I turn on the deformers in the second gif.
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Deformers work best for shapes that change a little bit, and/or slowly. The minor shape changes in his and Crowley's clothes ended up being a great use case for deformers, because they pretty much tweened perfectly.
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The reason I didn't use them on Aziraphale's legs was because those shapes change significantly between keys; I predicted I'd have to re-adjust every frame of a tweened deformer, so I drew the inbetweens by hand (halfway through, I realized I probably should have used them after all, but I was in too deep by then; hand drawing was fun though!). Deformers worked well on his bottom jacket:
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Crowley's pelvis is layered above and below his thigh pieces and has a deformer. Also take a look at all the drawing substitutions for his hands:
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And lastly the deformers on the hair:
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Epilogue
I'm hoping the gifs all play at the same speed for everyone as they play for me. Hopefully the demo gifs are at least watchable, if not super clear... (I'll listen to feedback on the presentation of the information, for if I do similar posts in future!) Don't hesitate to ask questions about anything I covered, or about any details you noticed that I didn't elaborate on!
ko-fi.com/marieanimate
I'm shy about mentioning it, but I set up a Ko-fi account in case this post compels anyone to leave a small "tip" (but reblogging and sharing is just as good)!
Thanks for reading, and have a nice day!
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sweetpascal · 9 months ago
Text
" someplace nice "
summary: when simon finally comes back home from deployment, he makes sure he spoils you in the best way possible. *wink wink*
warnings: cursing, teasing touches, husband!simon needs a warning of its own UGH, filthy car sex, messy pussy eating, wet noises, missonaryyy, filthy nasty dirty talk, we already know simon has the mouth of a sailor hehe
wc: 2.8k
notes: first of all, i wanna give a big big big shoutout to @suimon because without her AMAZING FUCKING PHENOMENAL works of art, i wouldn't have gotten out of my writing funk and they truly have inspired me 🫶🏼 second of all, i was on twitter and came across this spicy video and it basically helped me create whatever this is 😭 enjoy !
.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・
it wasn’t that you didn’t want to go out tonight. in fact, you’re ecstatic to go out with your husband. it’s only been two days since simon has been back from being deployed for almost one month. he had spent the two days sleeping and getting up to eat when it’s necessary, only to go back to sleeping. you didn’t care about that. you were just happy that he was back home. safe. alive. on the third day, he surprises you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.
“we’re going out t’night,” he tells you, eyes all soft with a barely there smile on his lips when you go nose deep into the flowers and sniffing deeply with a pleased smile on your face. “i won’t tell you where. but it’s gonna be a nice place.”
that night, you got ready with nervous butterflies bubbling in the pit of your stomach. it had been so long since you and simon have been out on a date night. with his deployments and your full-time job, having time for yourselves, let alone as a couple was a rarity these days.
you sprayed yourself with simon’s favorite perfume of yours and did a once over in the mirror. your hair looked beautiful, your makeup was on point, your outfit wasn’t too flashy nor too casual - it was a body hugging dress with thin straps and tasteful cleavage and some wedged heels. as you walked downstairs, you saw simon waiting for you at the bottom with his keys in hand. he was dressed so nicely and the color of his dress shirt matched your dress. with tight fitting slacks and his ‘going out’ boots, you knew you’d be staring at him all night long. your cheeks warmed when you caught his gaze. his lips had parted and you could’ve sworn his eyes sparkled. although your heels added a few inches to your height, it was still nothing compared to simon. he still stood above you, two and a half heads taller.
“so.. how do i look?”
he didn’t like how hesitant you sounded. with a slow step forward, his finger hooked under your chin to lift your head up. god, the smell of him was mouth watering. you’re on your ovulating schedule so his natural musk combined with his cologne was like sinking your teeth into the tenderest meat there is. you nearly moaned. nearly.
“you look.. almost as beautiful as the day i met you,” he told you, so genuine, so soft, and so in love.
“almost?” you giggled and caught him off guard by pulling him down and clumsily kissing his chin instead of his lips.
“mhm,” he grumbled and led the way outside to his suv.
dinner went smoothly. simon had taken you both to a nice little italian restaurant downtown. it was the perfect place for a romantic night. the tables were dimly lit with candles and fresh flowers. he did everything a gentleman should do. pulling your chair out, knowing your favorite dish and ordering it for you, getting you your own dessert, paying. but the night still had a salacious vibe to it. for some reason, simon just couldn’t keep his hands to himself. his hand kept brushing up on your thigh, subtly hiking your dress up to feel your skin under his fingertips. you had to quietly scold him as the restaurant was nowhere near empty and your table wasn’t secluded from wandering eyes.
“can’t help it,” he told you in your ear, his voice all low and gruff and husky in a way that always had you tingling. “my wife s’just so fuckin’ gorgeous to look at.” and with that, he left a warm kiss under your earlobe, knowing exactly that was the spot he knew makes you whimper. and you did. only loud enough for him to her.
during the car ride home, it began to rain. it was damn near impossible to drive with the way the rain pelted hard and fast onto the windshield and roof. simon cursed under his breath, the hand resting on your thigh tightening for a brief second. you swallowed down a soft moan as it got lodged in the back of your throat. but simon, having the ears of a true soldier, heard it. he fucking hears everything. you hated and loved it simultaneously.
breaking free from your thoughts, the car swerves to the side to go down an empty road leading to an abandoned part. it was the only place farthest from town. no busy streets. no houses. no stores. it was deserted.
“si?” you were getting confused when he put the car into park and turned the ignition off. he turns on the top light and then turns to you. you expected him to give you a kiss with how he’s leaning over the console, but instead he reaches under your passenger seat, pulls the lever, and forcefully slides your seat further back so it puts a big amount of space between you and the dashboard. “simon?!”
“gimme a minute,” was all he says before getting out of the car and getting wet from the rain.
the door slams shut and you’re twisting and turning in your seat. it was pitch black outside with no streetlights, no house lights, no nothing. your side door is yanked open and simon hops in, slamming it shut and locking it after. he’s on his knees in front of you in the passenger side as you’re still in the seat, dumbfounded. he starts to unbutton his dress shirt as he stares down at you. the dim light in the car casts shadows on his face and he looks so fucking good.
your breathing starts picking up as he kneels before you shirtless. he then starts to unstrap your wedged heels, carelessly throwing them into the backseat. you finally let out a moan when he grabs your hips and forces you to slide down your seat and your thighs fall open.
“fuck, you smell so good,” simon grunts and buries his face between your thighs to mouth and nose at your covered cunt. he licks and sucks through the fabric, further getting it wet with his saliva. “taste like fuckin’ heaven.” he’s quick to slide your panties down and hoists your dress up to pool around your hips, fully exposing your bare cunt to his eyes and his eyes only.
“s-simon,” you whimper softly, eyebrows drawn and lips parted. the ache in your core began to hurt. your hips bucked and your thighs twitched. you didn’t know what you wanted. his hot, messy tongue. his long, powerful fingers. or his thick, hard cock. all you can utter is, “please.” please, anything.
immediately, he bows his head and licks a hot stripe from asshole to clit. he focuses more on your clit. he widens his tongue and uses his big hands to hook underneath your knees to press them into your chest. the wet slurps and hot puffs of air all over your messy pussy has you keening with uncontrollable twitches.
“ooh fuck, fuck, oh my god!” you grab onto his wide wrists, manicured nails digging into the skin for some stability. “fuck me. please, fuck me!”
when your voice gets all high pitched and whiny, simon knows it’s go-time. with one hand reaching down to expertly unbutton and slide down his slacks, he uses his other hand to spread your thighs open. your right foot rests on the window ledge. with the dim lighting and the rain pattering on the car roof, everything about this was romantic. simon lowers his head and gives your lips messy, hard kisses. all tongue. all teeth. heavy breathing and hushed moans. you tasted your slick and a hint of wine on his tongue. if that wasn’t the perfect combination, you didn’t know what was.
“you ready f’me?” his voice is so gruff and thick with lust. he taps the head of his leaking cock on your messy cunt. the lewd noises made you want to cover your face from embarrassment of how wet you are. “hm? ‘s this little cunt ready f’me to fuck her?” god, the things he says would be enough to make a deaf nun cry. but you didn’t care. you ached for him, everywhere.
“plea-please, si,” you weakly whimpered. your body was on fire and you were close to tears. wetness made your lashes clump and you sniffled softly. “need you. need it bad. need you.”
he tuts. he actually tuts. and the condescending smile he sends you makes you all the more embarrassed as your cunt leaked even more slick. “poor angel,” he croons and grins wolfishly. “poor, poor baby.”
and then finally, finally, he dips the head inside your pathetic little hole. and inch by inch, he slides in and then slides back out. he slides in again a little more and slides out again. the teasing torture was enough to make you start crying. simon’s arms wrapped around your trembling frame and he allows you to bury your face in his bare shoulders. you’re hugging his big, beefy body to yourself, your hands desperately holding onto his sides.
“i-i can’t ta-take it! fuck me, please, please, simon, please.” you’re babbling incoherently, sobbing softly into his skin and curling your toes as he grinds his cock up and down your cunt before finally sliding all the way in.
“there we go,” he coos in your ear. “there’s my girl.”
almost instantly, the sobbing stops and is replaced with garbled moans and punched gasps. your lips are open on his shoulder and drool slowly begins to seep out. you hug him closer as warmth explodes throughout your entire body from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.
“‘m y’girl,” you can barely form a coherent sentence.
“that’s right,” simon huffs, now starting to work his hips faster against yours. “my good girl.”
his hips smack into yours, his thickness filling you repeatedly. over and over and over again. the lewd wet noises of your slick leaking onto his balls and maybe his thighs has your cheeks flaming up. simon pounds into you, forcing every moan out of your chest and spilling from your lips, no matter how bad you wanted to quiet them as you two were still in the car and anybody could pull up. everything felt so good. he starts speeding up his thrusts, now pounding into you at an alarming speed and causing you to scream hoarsely in the small space. and then he slows to a grinding halt.
“mm, mm, mm,” you whimpered in his shoulder, tears freely sliding down your cheeks from the excessive pleasure you're receiving with little kisses of pain.
simon hears your reaction and does it again, this time creating a rhythm. he’ll fuck into you at a high speed and then slow down. he feels your tits bouncing against his chest and the way your swollen clit is continuously bumping against his pelvis.
“yeah,” he grunts in your ear, tightening his arms around your non-stop shaking body. “fuckin’ take my fuckin’ cock.”
your eyes slowly cross as he slows again, only fucking you with deep, slow, grinding thrusts. you’re 100% sure you’re leaking onto the seat right now. you wouldn’t be surprised if you were. simon’s cock was heaven and hell. you were obsessed. addicted, even. it look a lot of practice for you to take every inch in the early stages of your relationship. he made sure to take his time training your cunt into swallowing his hardness. simon pulled up just enough to capture your lips in a hot, messy kiss. he grinds deep inside, the tip of his cock nudging your cervix deliciously. your hands desperately grasped the sides of his face, your tongue sloppily entering his mouth and circling around his.
“can’t get ‘nough of you” simon grumbles. he keeps kissing and kissing as he grinds his hips in slow, deep circles. “my wife is jus’ so fuckin’ needy, eh?” the subtle cockiness in his tone had your pussy clenching. he grins at that and pistons his hips, fast and hard and unrelenting.
“ah! ah! ah! aaah!” you squealed and scratched down his back. you’ve been on edge for however long. time was nonexistent and this was torture. you needed that final nudge. a certain thing that helped the rollercoaster of euphoria finally crash down from the tip of the hill. “n-need.. cum. need.. n-need to cu-um!” god, you probably sounded so pathetic.
simon grunts every time he delivers hard thrusts that would’ve made your entire body slide up the seat if it weren’t for his arms wrapped around you. your thighs twitched non-stop. your toes curled and repeatedly thumped against the window. clinging onto your husband, your moans start getting more high pitched and drawn out as you got closer and closer, but simon knew what you needed. he always knew what you need. he pulls back enough to direct his attention to your neglected clit, so puffy and swollen and glistening in your slick from having no attention paid to it. simon slows his hips again and grinds to a slow halt once more. his cock throbs as your walls twitched and tightened around him, eagerly sucking him deeper.
“you poor, poor girl,” he tuts, splaying a large hand over your tummy and humming pleased as he feels the bulge of his cock nestled deep inside. “jus’ need my thumb, eh?” with the first swipe, your nails dug deeper into his skin and your thighs nearly shut. and from that reaction, simon knew it was time to finally let his beautiful wife cum.
and for the last time, his hips smack against yours at a fast speed, pounding and fucking as if tonight was the end of the world and you two had to say goodbye to each other. when his thumb lays against your clit, rubbing circles at the same rhythm of his quick hips, the dam finally broke. your body forcibly arched and your head slides between the seat and the backseat window. simon forces your thighs to keep spread open and grunts into your throat as your pussy contracts around his cock. all of your moans kept spilling out - you couldn’t stop them even if you tried. it was like electricity was coursing through your body. the wave of euphoria crashed at an alarming speed and you’re sure you’re screaming, but it sounds like you’re underwater. simon was stunned, in all honesty, at how hard you came. and you just won’t stop.
“agh!” he grunts and pulls his thumb away from your overly sensitive clit. he instead wraps his arms back around your trembling body and does three good, hard thrusts before the knot tightened and tightened and he spills inside of you. he grinds deep and slow, making sure none is wasted and is settled thickly inside your womb.
heavy breathing and weak moans echo in the car. the heavy rain slowed to a gentle drizzle. your thighs couldn’t stop twitching. simon lowers his head and kisses your pulse point so very gently, humming pleased when you sign contently. he kisses the side of your face tenderly, tracing a line from your pulse, up to your soft jaw, and then your plushy cheek. your breathing finally slowed and you lift your head to look up at simon. a bead of sweat slid down his temple and you had half a mind to lick it away. the two of you look into each other’s eyes and there wasn’t a single thing that could make you look away. and there wasn’t a single thing that could ruin this moment. simon had to swallow down the lump in his throat.
“d’you realize jus’ how much i love you?” he asks you quietly, head tilting to brush his strong nose against yours. “i would go to the ends of the earth f’you.”
at this whisper of a confession, you sniffle and let out a watery laugh, a lonesome tear sliding down your cheek that is quickly wiped away by his thumb. he leans down and hovers his lips over yours. you take the last step and curl your fingers into his hair to pull him down. when your lips touched, it felt like everything disappeared at that moment. the two of kissed and kissed until you needed air. and even though, you would take gulps of air and find his lips again. his cock was still snug deep inside. even soft, he still had some length and weight to him. but you loved this. it made you feel more connected to each other. the rain had stopped completely now. you both broke your kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting. simon lightly thumbs at your lip to wipe it away.
“now, lets get you home.”
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emilys-bangs · 2 months ago
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I have a request but I’d understand if you’re getting too many and you don’t want to do this one. I wanted to request a super soft fic like you wake up Emily in the middle of the night because you can’t sleep and you keep asking silly questions like “would you still love me if I was a worm?” And she is super sleepy but tries to comfort you into falling asleep again and answering you as you want
This is the cutest thing ever I giggled
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midnight whispers | e.p
Tags: established relationship, reader being kinda annoying, fluff, endlessly sweet fluff u guys, no use of yn, use of petnames
Word count: 1.2k
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It’s 3:47.
You know because it’s been less than two minutes since you’d last looked at the clock before closing your eyes, fruitfully hoping for the sweet relief of sleep. 
Shockingly, it doesn’t come.
Which doesn’t make sense, really, because you can feel the exhaustion in your bones and pressing down on your eyes. You’d been tossing and turning ever since you’d climbed into bed with Emily, your girlfriend falling fast asleep after she gave you a chaste kiss goodnight. You can hear her deep breathing right next to you and you’re slightly envious.
The room is dark, only a sliver of moonlight creeping in through the curtain providing sparse illumination. It’s reasonably cold, a light chill that has you covered beneath the blanket, and the air is still with the silence of midnight hours—all optimal conditions for you to comfortably fall asleep in, but it still evades you. Emily’s sleeping body provides warmth, too; her head is halfway onto your pillow, her slow breaths fanning across your neck.
Your eyes slide to her and you bite your lip. Should you wake her? You’re tired of wallowing in this misery for over—3:48 now—5 hours on your own, even if your sluggish brain struggles to justify how she could help. 
Her chest rises and falls with slow, even breaths, her lashes dark and resting gently on her cheeks. She needs the sleep, you know she does, and some part of your heart resists waking her for your own selfish reasons.
But company is nice, even sleepy company, so you push aside the guilt and shake her gently.
“Emily,” you whisper.
Her brows furrow.
It takes a few more shakes and whispers of her name before her eyes crack open. Deep brown irises stare into yours, tired and hazy with sleep. 
“What?” She mumbles. Her hand clumsily reaches for yours; it’s cold. “You ’kay?”
Is it wrong that the rough warmth of her voice already makes your muscles relax? You bring her hand up to your lips, pressing an apology to the ridges of her knuckles.
“I’m okay.” You say, kind of feeling like the worst person in the world right now. “Just can’t sleep.”
Emily frowns deeper. “Nightmare?” She whispers, her eyes growing more alert.
“No, no,” you’re quick to reassure. The concern above her brow loosens, and her lashes flutter closed again. “Couldn’t sleep to begin with.” With her hand in yours, your lips find her temple.
“Drank too much coffee?” The rasp of her voice is muffled into your neck as you trail a few kisses to her cheekbone. You’re probably being insufferable, but she doesn’t pull away—though you begin to think that’s from the sluggishness of sleep more than anything.
“Just as much as you.”
Two cups, hers with an insulting amount of Splenda and yours with decidedly less.
Emily doesn’t reply. You lean back against your pillow and find her eyes closed again. The large t-shirt she’s wearing slips down her shoulder, exposes her pale skin that looks moonlit, smooth as ivory.
Your heart thumps softly against your ribs as you smile. “Hey Emily?”
She hums sleepily.
“Do you love me?”
The corner of her mouth curls upward. “You’re sleepin’ in my bed, amor.” The combination of her sleepy voice and the Spanish makes you melt into the mattress, a stupid heat in your cheeks.
You tuck your joint hands beneath your jaw. “But that could mean nothing.”
“Means everythin’.” She whispers. Her eyes are still closed, her mouth barely moving. You should leave her alone now, but you just want to talk to her when she’s like this; sleepy and lovely, her body warm in some places and cold in others, the hushed timbre of her voice calming your restless mind.
“So you do love me?”
“Mmhmm.” Emily hums. Bless her patience. Her fingers flex between yours and you lift them from their hiding place under your jaw, bringing her hand to your lips instead. Emily exhales through her nose, the sound lazy and content as she digs her face further into your pillow.
She’s drifting again, and you’re still wide awake. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?” You blurt, squeezing her fingers.
Emily’s eyes crack open. “You’d be a cute worm,” she slurs, the small indent of a dimple digging into her cheek. You grin and she shuffles closer, her shoulder touching yours, your heads softly knocking together, “You’d be a cute anythin’.”
Again, she avoids the question. “But would you love me?” You persist. Leaning further into her, you nuzzle your nose against hers, a stupid smile forming on your lips when she scrunches her face adorably, her eyes fluttering open again.
“I’d be head over heels for you.” Emily states, now leaning into you to nuzzle her nose into yours. “Our romance would be no less epic,” her words drift into a mumble as exhaustion takes her again, forcing her eyes shut.
Even half asleep, she’s a charmer. You stare a moment at her relaxed face, letting the warmth of it rush through your whole body. Her slow breaths fall against your upper lip, warm and rhythmic. 
“Do you think we’re in love in every universe?” You whisper. What is it with all these questions about love? “If I was a barista maybe, and you’d be enchanted by the color of my eyes as I gave you your coffee?” You muse, playing with her limp fingers. “Or if we’re both butterflies taking naps in the same flower—”
“Baby, please go to sleep,” Emily mumbles, her words slurring together adorably. She never calls you baby; your grin stretches wide. She untangles her fingers from yours and wraps her arm messily around your neck, bringing you into her chest. “I’ll hold ya, jus’ please sleep.” The words are lost in your hair.
You smile into her warm neck. “Oh, well, if you’ll hold me.” You tease softly, but there really is something so magical about feeling Emily’s chest rise and fall beneath yours. Hearing her steady pulse, her slow breaths, feeling her cold hand sleepily tangle in your hair. It’s easy, closing your eyes, and as she starts to drift, you feel yourself drift with her.
“Can I have a kiss?” You ask softly.
Emily nuzzles her lips into your forehead.
She’s so much softer like this, when she’s half awake. Emily is never harsh with you, but like this she’s completely unfiltered, stripped bare of her walls and her inhibitions, and you’re drunk on it, on her, on the fact that you get to see her like this.
Your eyes finally begin to grow heavy. Lashes fluttering shut, you breathe in Emily’s scent—the expensive lotion she’d rubbed into her skin before bed.
“Emily?” You whisper.
Silence rings in your ears. You try again.
“’Mily?” 
A breath comes out of her, exhale or sigh you don’t know. “Yeah, hon.” She mumbles.
You bury your face deeper into her neck, until you feel her slow pulse. “I’m so in love with you.” You admit to the softness of her skin. Think it might kill me one day.
“Mmm, ditto.”
It’s disgustingly cliche, but in her arms, her lips still against your forehead, it takes no time at all for sleep to finally steal you away. 4:00 comes and you’re both fast asleep, your body curled around Emily’s, her hand still in your hair.
Taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism
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hypewinter · 1 year ago
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I got a take on the Danny is Damian's older brother au. He's Damian's brother but he's his adopted brother. So hear me out:
Danny is running away post TUE and he encounters some assassins. For whatever reason they get into a fight and he beats them. This ends up getting back to Ra's who is quite curious about who beat up his most prized assassins effortlessly. After some investigation, he extends an invite for Danny to train under him. On Danny's part, he jumps at the chance to disappear off the face of the earth and have a free place to stay.
Danny ends up being an absolute prodigy. This is him close to being Dan so his morals are much shakier. He doesn't leap at the opportunity to kill, but he's most definitely not above it if need be. Combine that with his ghost powers and personal training by Ra's himself and the guy becomes like the golden standard within the league. So much so to the point where Ra's even names him his heir and adopts him. Though Danny insists he is his adopted grandson and not adopted son.
Flashforward to Damian being born and Ra's obviously wants him to be his new heir. Not that Danny has any problem with this. He's very clearly Ra's favorite considering the things he's allowed to get away with. Like letting targets go, having worldly possessions in his room (TV, gaming console, computer, etc), and even befriending his subordinates (Ra's particularly doesn't like that one but knows Danny will never allow it to become a weakness for him). Even if Danny wasn't the heir, he would still maintain a significant level of authority within the league (again not that he cares about having power as long as there's a roof over his head).
The problem is, Damian can't compete with Danny. After all, who could match up to a highly trained half ghost with dubious morals? Let alone a kid. Too bad Ra's doesn't see it that way. He sees Damian as a failure who will never measure up to Danny. That's why he sends the boy off to live with his father. It's under the excuse that he'll be receiving a different sort of training but in reality, the Demon Head no longer wants anything to do with his biological grandson.
Obviously this turns into quite the complex for Damian. Meanwhile Danny absolutely adores Damian. From the moment he was introduced to the baby he was ecstatic. He'd always wanted to be an older brother. He would constantly be barging into Damian's room to hang out and whenever they'd sparred together, he'd try to let him win. Ra's quickly caught onto that one and put a stop to it immediately though. Basically Danny is Damian's League of Assassins version of Dick. An example of what he's supposed to be that he will always compare himself to (and that also has no idea what personal space is).
Danny loved his little brother so much that he even managed to get a mission to Gotham about a year after Damian had been sent there in order to surprise him with a belated birthday present.
The bats are absolutely shocked with an assassin suddenly charges at Damian and before anyone can react, scoops him into a hug. Damian is screeching bloody murder as he attempts to get Danny to let him go. Danny is just hugging him while saying stuff like "I missed you little brother" and "You've grown so much since I last saw you" all while avoiding knives to the chest.
The bats get shocked x2 because wait.... little brother!? Talia had another child!? And one far older than Damian to boot. Damian is quick to clarify that Danny is adopted while still trying to stab him. Imagine the boy's horror and Danny's delight when he gets invited back to the batcave to speak further.
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osarina · 7 months ago
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ᡣ𐭩 OFFICE ESCAPADES
FEATURING: dazai osamu
SUMMARY: dazai decides to take advantage of everyone leaving the office for lunch to get some much needed time with you. you know it's a mistake, and that you're going to get caught, but you can't bring yourself to deny him—you never can. (wordcount: 1kish; nsfw)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: i was going to give you guys a long one shot today but i got cold feet unfortunately </3 maybe next week i'll have the balls to post it. for now, take a lil drabble i wrote
GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, public ??? not sex but it was getting heated
“They’ll all be back any minute,” you whisper, voice breathless as you feel Dazai’s lips drag down your neck, soft and wet as he sucks and nips at your skin. 
He only responds with a hum, and you know your words probably aren't even even registering through his head. You think that you should be more insistent—push him back and get off of his lap, because Kunikida will be livid if he comes back to the office to find the two of you in a compromising position, and Yosano and Ranpo will never let you hear the end of it. But it’s hard to focus with Dazai’s tongue tracing patterns on your neck, with his fingers digging into your hips as he grinds you down on his cock.
His touch is dizzying, fogging your mind of all common sense, and he’s been testing your limits all morning so really, how can you blame yourself for finally giving in to a little release?
It started with subtle brushes and lingering touches that set your skin aflame, then came the lidded stares as he watched you instead of doing his work, and finally, just before lunch break, when you went into the kitchen to grab some water, he followed you right in under the guise of grabbing a snack from one of the upper cabinets. He caged you against the counter and pressed his body against yours as he reached above you, the outline of his cock pressing into your ass for a few seconds too long before Kunikida started yelling for Dazai to hurry up. 
“It’s fine, bella,” he finally murmurs against your skin, acknowledging your words. “Relax.”
“It’s not-“ You try to say, but Dazai doesn’t even give you the chance to finish the sentence, lifting his head from your neck to capture your lips with his. 
And if his touches are dizzying, his kisses are addicting. Your eyes flutter shut when you feel his lips moving against yours, painfully slow but you feel like you can’t even breathe, tongue brushing along your lower lip to get you to part them for him. You think you could kiss him forever and never get enough of it. 
His hands slip beneath your shirt, warm palms sliding up and down your sides as if to try to calm you down.  
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, breath hot against your lips as his eyes trace yours, lidded and hazy. “Heaven-sent.”
“Osamu,” you protest, a bit flustered. Dazai is always poetic and flowery with his compliments but heaven-sent?
Dazai lets out a soft noise, you can’t tell if it’s a moan or a shaky breath as his hips jerk up enough to make your body shudder. God, this is so bad, you know it and you know he knows it even if he won't admit it. This needs to stop before anyone walks in but neither of you can drag yourself away from the other.
“It’s the truth,” he replies, reverence dripping from his tone as he stares up at you, dark eyes wide with an emotion so intense that it has your breath catching. “You’re divine, utterly angelic. You’re not meant to be with someone like me. I’ll ruin you.”
You can’t tell if it’s a warning, a threat or a promise—maybe a combination of all three. Your fingers trace his cheekbones as you cup his face, eyes searching his as you ask with a teasing smile, “What if I want you to?”
The reaction is instantaneous—Dazai’s eyes darken, pupils dilating as he stares up at you. His grip on your hips tightens just a bit. 
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Dazai rasps, his voice is a bit lower, a far cry from the loud dramatic tone he usually took—heat pools in your lower stomach as you let out a soft puff of air.
“I do,” you reply, leaning down to nip his jaw, relishing in the way he instinctively lets his head fall back, baring his throat for you. You kiss down to where his bandages peek out from under his shirt, before trailing back up to the spot behind his ear that makes him writhe, smiling against his skin when you hear the soft, pitched moan that spills from his lips. “I want you to ruin me, Osamu. In every possible way you can.” 
Dazai’s lips part to respond, but he doesn’t get the chance. The office doors slam open and Kunikida is shouting: “You two have no decency!”
You throw yourself off of Dazai’s lap, flustered and hot as you fix your shirt and make your way back over to your own desk, ignoring Yosano’s cat calls and Ranpo’s snickering.
Your fingers tremble as you log back into your computer, but it’s hard to concentrate when you can feel Dazai’s gaze on you even as Kunikida shouts at him. 
You peek over one last time—he’s resting his head on on his hand as he stares in your direction, gaze lidded and so intense that you can barely bring yourself to imagine the thoughts that might be running through his head. 
When he catches you looking, the corner of his lip quirks up into a smirk, and you think, balefully, that there’s no way you’re going to last another six hours of work with him looking at you like this.
And more importantly, there’s no way you’re going to survive the night with him now that he's being given six hours to come up with countless ways to ruin you. 
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taegularities · 11 months ago
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colour me in: translucent | jjk (m)
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Summary: And whenever the world seems to fall apart and your thoughts cast a shadow over your heart, he rushes to lift you to your feet. Conjoining your hearts and souls, again and again and again.
➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; some healthy angst, so much fluff, smut ➳ warnings: y’all. So. Much. Fluff, talk about stars, talk about his hometown, mention of a wedding 😁, 1 nara mention, a guest appearance!!, and another guest appearance…, daddy issues mention, oc has a tummy ache :(, banter, conversation with her mom, badass oc, their friends <3, moving and work stress, overworking, kook panics in this one, oc does too, tears and tears and tea–, abandonment issues, overthinking!!!, they communicate too late bc they’re scared, pregnancy scare, mention of throwing up, kissing and hand holding <3, petnames, insecurities/slight envy; explicit sexual content: diving right into the smut as the chapter starts 🤭, tie around oc’s neck ha ha, oral (f. receiving) (over panties and without 🥲), fingering, brief masturbation (m.), making out, jk takes the backseat and oc drives for a while <3, bit of choking, they’re half clothed for a bit, tiddie and butt love, tears, flirting, big dick jk, soft dom jk, emotions omg 😷, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, he unloads in her mouth 😄, and yeah, maybe more but i forgot – lmk if you notice smth! also… THE 👏 EN 👏 DING 🚨🚨🚨 ➳ word count: 35.8k 💀  ➳ a/n: here it is… after a long ass fight with tumblr and my tears, it’s here! i don’t have much to say this time except that this chapter means the world to me. and i hope you love it just as much. shoutout to @missgeniality for betaing parts of this and helping me with difficult scenes, i truly struggled!! <3 if you guys enjoy this one, let me know and don’t be shy to reach out!! love you and let’s dive in 🥺 ➳ listen to: say you won't let go by james arthur | full collaborative playlist 🤍
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SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs | DC SERVER
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The whispers cease the moment your door closes.
The whispers of the world, of all traffic, of all passersby, of all echoes. And those in your head, susurrating since you left the glass building and its conference hall.
They dim the moment you drop your palm off the door; your heart is still a nervous mess as you take your shoes off, watch him take his shoes off. He places them neatly in the shoe cabinet, jacket hung on one of the coat hooks.
Right here, you’re surrounded by a tranquil, quiet dome. Not as subdued as the emotions the outer world elicits; just an arena that feels perpetually warm, sepia and still.
And amidst that warmth, there’s yearning. You feel it in every nerve of your body, burning through your limbs. Stunning sentiments pull at your soul, making it heavy; and your heart floats, perpetually above the clouds.
As he rubs his cheek with a soft hand — you know, because you were holding it just two minutes ago, clutching it in the car for dear life —, you take a step forward, your mouth open, but not quite capable of saying all that’s weighing on your tongue.
They’re good things; amazing things. And he hasn’t yet gathered all his thoughts either to truly voice what he’s been hiding since you left the chaos. Only opting for the living room, painfully slowly, as if he’s waiting to face you again.
And maybe… maybe he really is. And maybe he doesn’t need to talk at all.
Because he stops the moment you speak, tenderly calling, “Jungkook.”
It’s all he needs. Combined with the lightest touch to his elbow, a hint of your voice is all he needs. He wants to keep hearing his name. Again and again and again. And today, announcing it to the world, you promised that you’ll be doing just that.
Shit. What have you done to his heart? He wants to ask questions that neither of you has an answer to; or, not one that can be verbalised. One that could explain this euphoria.
So he doesn’t say anything at all.
Instead, he stumbles as he turns back to you again, taking a deep breath before his head tilts. The unbounded amount of want is swimming in his tired eyes, and you barely manage a hushed, “Should we—” before his fingers flutter and he—
Dashes straight toward you. One large step, both hands jacking up to take your face captive. He raises your head, eyes closing, mouth parting an inch before it’s locked with yours.
If he hadn’t started, you would have.
The same thumb always caressing your skin pulls your lower lip down. An unfaltering habit, tender whenever he spirals. You trip backwards, with him in tow, immediately gripping his arms with a wild, accelerating heartbeat.
Your soul was already awake, lit up from today’s events; but he dunks it in a brighter shine — and now it flushes pink.
For a while, your kiss’ sounds are all that echo off the wall, mixing with your sighs. He starts gently, head angled, diving deeper.
Every now and then, he tugs at your lip ever-so-slightly, teeth and tongue dragging over it. The wet muscle is soft against yours, and you let your touch drop down to his waist to hold him closer.
But there’s not that much time to dissolve into him right here, against your entrance door, because Jungkook backs away before you can bid your sanity adieu. Maybe that’s for later.
Maybe you need to be okay with his breath grazing your skin for now, for the words he murmurs so close to your lips, “You’re crazy for this. Absolutely crazy.”
You are. Both okay with this, and incredibly crazy.
There’s never been more certainty in your actions or your intentions than whatever you do with him. For him — if that deems you crazy, then you absolutely are.
Heated from the kiss, Jungkook steps away, but not without entangling your fingers with his. On the way to the bedroom, you ignore everything that doesn’t entail him.
Like, the humming of the fridge. Or the sound of the traffic outside, audible through the tilted window. And the buzzing of your phone; it’s been doing that for a while now.
Of course it is.
But you don’t hesitate to deposit it on your bedside table mere seconds later; you barely manage to put it there, nearly watching it slide down as Jungkook pulls you back. You clash against his body, and the tongue once again mingling with yours only enhances your disorientation.
God, you’re a lost cause. Nothing else to expect with his palm holding your jaw, arm slung around you, kissing you senseless.
Time slows down; the sensation turns electric. His motions are rhythmic, fingers brushing your neck. And despite the bitterness he must have felt at the conference, he tastes so , so sweet.
Heady desire growing, you grip the back of his head, pushing it closer. You’re insatiable. Yearning for more of his damp, soft lips, hysterical when he lets out a craving, small moan.
“Do you have any idea,” he starts, giving your neck no more than a handful of teasing pecks, “what that did to me?”
He moves back until you plummet into the mattress; your eyes follow when he leans in and falls to his knees. Placing a hand at the nape of your neck, tenderly moving your face a bit closer to his.
“Without a warning, too,” he continues, “what, were you planning to drive me mad for so long?”
Not the angry kind of mad. His smile and the fondness in his eyes reveal that much. No — the mad that a lover is.
“Did it work?” you ask, and he flashes his teeth, beloved crinkles around his eyes.
“Did it? What do you think?” He kisses your nose; then, the apple of your cheek. “You didn’t notice any of it today? Or any other time before that?”
“I wanted to… I want everyone to know. I was going to tell you when you came home, but… I wanted to say it in front of everybody. That,” you touch the collar of his blazer, rubbing it between your fingertips, “I’m done with their games. I don’t care anymore, Jungkook.”
“I know… You don’t care.” His hand leaves the nape of your neck, caressing your face. “But you care about me, yes? You care so much.”
It’s not really a question. It’s a statement, a reassurance to himself. A mantra, as if he needs to repeat it and let it reverberate in his mind until he’s grasped its meaning.
“I do,” you whisper, peeling the blazer off his shoulder by only a few inches, “and I want to stay. Can I… just stay here?”
“You’re crazy,” he echoes once more, emphasising his words with a shake of his head, “to think I’ll let you go again. You’ll see.”
Although he still establishes a brief, temporary distance between the two of you right after; you’re reluctant to stop feeling his warmth when he stands. He towers over you, and you muster utmost courage to not faint.
Because the sight is one to behold.
How he removes the blazer in a swift movement, discarding it on top of the table at the wall. He rolls up the sleeve of his shirt, but only one side, glancing at you throughout the ordeal.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask.
“Why is your mouth open like that?”
“Do this exactly in front of a mirror, and… and you’ll know why.”
He smirks. “Right. And stare at yourself in the mirror for longer than a second, and you’ll know why, too.”
God, this guy…
And he actually doesn’t stop.
His pupils keep wandering; to your eyes, to your lips, to your heaving chest. To how you close your legs when he loosens his tie with tattooed fingers, lettered knuckles on full display. He opens a single button of his dress shirt; enough to reveal a patch of golden skin.
The tie dangles off his neck, doing wonders to your mind, and you resist the urge to grab it and pull him down to you. But you don’t need to; you only get to cherish the sight for another second.
Because right after, he pulls it over his head, baring the highly kissable mole on his neck before—
“What are you doing?” you wonder, eyes wide, and probably filled with anticipation as he puts the tie around your neck. “I’m…”
“Looks a lot better on you.”
One more shake of his head. You subtly catch a jerk behind his pants, and your gaze drops instantly. Behind the dark slacks, he’s already waiting for you, and the thought leaves you frothing at the mouth.
“You’re not looking bad yourself…” you say, drifting off, barely looking into his face as your hand reaches out. “May I?”
“What, baby?”
“Just…” 
You move forward, a palm to his thigh, and close your eyes before placing a kiss to the growing bulge. It twitches under your lips, and you drag your mouth lightly over his dick’s outline.
“Should’ve known,” Jungkook breathes, affected straight away, “but somehow, this is worse than your hand.”
“Really?”
He clicks his tongue when you do it again, unfazed by the layer between you as you give his clothed cock an open-mouthed kiss. Two of his fingers settle underneath your chin, and he raises your head in order to meet your gaze.
Then, he pushes you back a little, within a second back to one knee; then the other. He cocks an eyebrow as if to reprimand you, but then gulps down a chuckle as he says, “Really. But wait a bit more.”
You need to wait, because he prioritises your pleasure. One demand you’re ready to give into.
So, so prepared, when he asks politely, “Open your slacks?” You do. The way he drags his hands over your thigh and up to your hips, starting to discard your pants, is arguably less polite. “Here we go. Raise your ass.”
You help him out as best as you can. But he attaches his lips to your naked thigh the moment it comes into view, scattering kisses over your hot skin as he casts it off of you entirely.
You raise your feet a bit above the ground, and he uses the moment to separate your legs. Doesn’t even bother taking off your panties first; casually making himself at home between your limbs.
Light-headed, you open your eyelids halfway to glance at the blurry ceiling light; you never noticed when you closed them. Maybe when the sweetness spread over your thighs’ skin.
Maybe he’s as dizzy as you — only, when your whirling stare descends to his face, he’s smirking. And for a second, you don’t understand why. Puzzled, you keep looking, observing the tempting lick over his lips; the deep exhale; the barely-there blinking.
And then he says, “Never thought about it. But you should wear light-coloured panties more often.”
“…Why?”
But you soon get why.
Because you feel the arousal behind the fabric. How it glues your pussy to it, the damp spot probably growing. It’s visible — that’s what he’s liking so much.
He can see all of the desire you harbour for him, showcased so blatantly. And despite the embarrassment, watching his face flush in that rosy dust boosts your ego, too.
Your face burns.
“You’ve been like that for…” he starts, shrugging his shoulders in curiosity, “how long now?”
“Long enough. And I dare you to do something about it.”
Because fuck, he talks too much. In hindsight, only really when you need him to shut up; deliberately.
“Oh god,” he exclaims, dramatic as ever; as he raises a hand, you nearly think he’ll place it on his chest for further effect, but he only touches your knee, “now if you’re daring me, I’ll have to.”
“Mhm. I’m sure you’re not a sore lo—”
“Yeah, yeah.”
It’s a rude interruption, and the sudden push of his fingertip against your clit is ruder. It’s a momentary touch, fleeting, as opposed to the slow and calculated way that he buries his face in your panties. Eyes glued to yours for a moment.
And then…
Then, you relish the first taste of Heaven — as does he, you suppose.
Because the satisfied sigh is outrageous, hot against your covered folds. He licks over the damp stain, only the tip of his tongue; thoroughly salivated, because you feel the wetness seeping through the clothing.
There’s no moment between the start of his action and your immediate, ”Fuck.”
And to him, your reaction sets just the tone for a woozy night to come. He nods between your legs, gelled back strands tickling, hums so sweetly. You adjust on your seat, though the subtle change affects nothing; only drives you wilder as you shift deeper into his face.
His tongue is painting circles over your clit. Drawing out sensations, and you don’t understand how… there’s underwear between him and you. A barrier, aching to be removed, so how is he doing this, howishedoingit—
“No! Oh god—”
You can’t decipher why you voiced the rejection; you don’t want him to leave. Frustrated when he does, mouth open, waiting for you to speak up until you do, “Sorry. Sorry, I don’t fucking know…”
“Babe…” He shakes his head… He’s doing so much of this today. But one of the loose strands keeps moving so gorgeously over his forehead, so if it was up to you, he could keep doing it. “Don’t scare me like that.”
“Sorry…”
“Nah.” He says it when you press your lips together, hot and bothered as he licks another stripe along your cunt. “Didn’t mean it that way. Open that pretty mouth. Do scream, yeah?”
You could melt into the ground. Or into the sheets; he always knows what to say. No matter what the situation. A verbal monster once, a graceful poet another time.
They say, get you a man who can do both. But he can do all million things known to humankind and the book of romance.
His mouth works deeper into where you ache. Tongue action expanded, he returns to the panties, seeking one of your nether lips to tease it, pull at it. He’s ruining your garment, making it stick to your pussy.
Pries your legs open when he comes back to the clit, and then drops down to the overflowing sex again. The sensual gestures are toying with your nerves, and you still can’t figure out how. Leaves you waiting, yearning, craving the lack of a blockade in between.
And once the uncomfortable, wet cotton of your panties rubs against the inside of your folds, you finally speak up, “Why are you—”
“Sorry,” he interjects, aware of his bestiality. You see it in his stupid wicked smile. “I know. This is just…” Big eyes stare back down, albeit hazier than before; his finger touches the drenched patch for a second. “So good to look at.”
“You’re the worst.”
“Of course.”
Shit, he’s so cheeky. If you had the strength, you’d wipe that bubbly smile off his face; not good for your heart. Would smooch it away. But fret not — you’ll get your chance, too.
For now, you need to grant him this win. Not least of all, because it feels so good for you, too.
So you don’t defy him when he suddenly moves in more. Hooks a finger into your panties and slides them aside, letting them snap back against the juncture between your pussy and leg. And then, you guess the actual fun starts.
Because he throws one carnal look at you before his arms wander under your legs. You can barely gather your thoughts before he digs in again, properly this time. Lips directly attaching to your skin, he starts diligent work on soiling your body.
And god, does he do it well…
So experienced. Aware. Studied you and your body well enough — because the agonisingly slow tease isn’t random. He knows how much you hate it; knows how much you love it.
How it builds anticipation, and how it grows your desire.
He’s a little fuck, but maybe that’s why he never fails to break you this hard. You know he’s enjoying this — delighted when your eyebrows furrow, close to weeping as he breathes against your pussy.
Even though a man starved, he takes his time. For a second. Then another. And then parts your folds with his fingers, whispering, “Would you say that’s better?”
Like he’s at some meeting. Goddamn.
You blink, responding, “I don’t know. Better than the panties, worse than…” His finger slips in mid-speech, just halfway through when you manage a breathy, “this.”
“I… Shit, you’re… hot as fuck.”
Right.
Even you’re turned on by how your head tips back again, eyes rolling inward when he diminishes the distance and kisses your cunt. Nobody else is going to raise your confidence like he does.
“Mmmh,” he voices as the make out session intensifies, smacking noises sounding from below. He lifts his lips by a mere inch, only to mumble, “So hot. So fucking good.”
And that’s it — back to business.
“Nnnghkook…”
The arms he dropped under your legs sling around them, hooking in, and somehow, he’s able to reach to your back like that. Raises your legs in the process, pulling you in. Deeper in your heat, big button nose against your pelvis.
Your right hand attempts to grip his hair before you threaten to fall backwards, failing miserably. You immediately place both your palms back on the bed, because you doubt you can trust that damned left arm to hold you upright — quivering like this.
The tip of your tongue touches the arch of your upper lip, and then you tilt your head, warning him, “Fuck… if you don’t fuck my brains out today, Jungkook…”
Brains? Plural? Acting as though even one’s present in your head right now.
Jungkook chuckles, licking you dry; the little sound combined with the sinful ordeal is a delightful one. Contrary, but gifting the moment some reality. Some tenderness. You’re having fun.
He stops to throw the escaping strands back again — all in vain, of course — and brings his hand to your ass, moving you over the bed until you’re off the edge. You yelp, close to falling, but he holds you carefully.
Ass half dangling, he throws your legs over broad shoulders, kissing your thigh before he promises, “Don’t worry at all. Won’t leave a single thought in either of our heads.”
You wince when he bites the flesh of your leg, and then proceeds to advance his soft lips to the tender ache. He collects saliva on his tongue, probably ready to dive in again; moves in at least, tickling your pelvis with his breath.
His nose takes a deep breath, inhaling you, dizzy from your scent. And his thumb — it floats over your clit, preparing for more insanity. But when the position elicits some discomfort, you say, “Put me on the bed. Can I… bed properly.”
Fragments of sentences. They make him smile.
“Sure,” he says rather calmly; you’re anything but.
It’s not normal. Watching a guy like Jeon Jungkook push his hair back with his jaw on full display; tongue darting out.
He signals his approval once more as he pats your thigh, and you make quick work at weakly turning around and crawling onto the bed. You’re still trembling as you get on all fours, very conscious of what you’re doing.
Casually, you say, “I’ll get the lube, too.”
Of course you know what might follow. What will follow. He never stops raving, daydreaming, bragging about your ass — walking past you in the kitchen, just to grapple a handful and to innocently claim, “What? I love your butt.”
But before he strikes this time, you’re only barely able to grab the lube out of the drawer, placing it next to the pillow instead of handing it back to him. Because… because before you know it—
There’s already a finger to your pussy.
“Shit,” you curse, “you and your impatience.”
“Do you want me to wait?” he asks, as purely as the butt-love-statements as his touch retracts. Mellow voice; only a flutter of his lashes is missing, really. “I can wait.”
No, he can’t. Liar.
“No,” you repeat, readily letting your upper body fall. You bring your fingertips back to your ass, tracing it down until met with your arousal. “Don’t do this to me now.”
You know his answer before he utters it, “Don’t you do this to me now.” You hear a click of his tongue; a poised beam plays around your lips. “Alright. But.”
He snatches your legs from under your body until you’re flat on your tummy; you grunt just a bit. Not expecting the soft, little, “Do tell me if I do too much.”
As if…
He knows his limits. But the constant, caring pleads still always grip your heart; so you nod.
“Okay.”
Simultaneous with a fond slap, that word is the last verbal sign of his presence that you receive for a while. Whatever follows is a pure testing of limitations; of jumbling up your senses.
Because the moment Jungkook lifts your ass to his face, his tongue is already out. Experimental at first, of course, patient. He takes a second for languid kisses and soft necking, fingers exploring the inside of your thigh as if to soothe your restlessness.
And it helps. Your limbs shake a bit less, your mind focused on where his touches go. Fingertips near your folds. Lips kissing around your pussy. Then, repeating the same brush of his hands as before, but on your other leg, moving inward. 
Despite the first taste he already got, he’s suddenly changed his tactic; and you’re greedy. Mewling in tiny, quiet sounds, barely realising that they’re coming out of you. You repeat his name over and over, but it never quite tumbles out in its entirety.
So you keep it at moaning, eyes closed, so infinitely relaxed.
He moves back, gently asking, “All good?”
“So far… do more, please.”
It’s what he always waits for. You know. Jungkook has a fetish for your pleas, and the tiniest fragment of your beseeching voice is usually enough for him.
Like now.
Encouraged, he pushes your shirt up to your tits, halting right under them. He touches your naked stomach, brushing your belly button, grazing a palm over your lower back and straight to your ass.
The tongue ghosting around your sex finally dares a step forward. Gets a little taste of what’s to come. Circles around your folds, then to your nub; spit gathered on the tip, never too hard, oh-so-mildly — and maybe that’s what makes it even worse.
The lack of any force. How pleasant it feels. And you let him know — respond with a desperate, unheard sound, goosebumps sprawling over your skin.
Jungkook discerns it as a signal to go on; to do more. His nose buries between your ass, pushing his tongue in a little further, alternating between licking and kissing and collecting spit. Your lust shoots to the sky; you twist and move, but he holds you in place with a single hand.
And when he disappears, you regret it immediately. You hear him say, “Hey, hey… Don’t you want me to fuck your brains out, sweetheart? Isn’t that what you said?”
“Mmhyes, yes, please.”
“…Then stop moving.” His nails are harsh against your waist, and you whimper. “The more you behave now,” he leaves a kiss on your butt, loosening his grip around your waist, “the harder I’ll go later.”
“…Okay. Okay. I’m sorry.”
He chuckles. What an ass; leaving you physically and mentally covetting, and then enjoying your reactions.
“Are you okay with this?” he asks, biting a little, stroking your hips, holding onto your ass cheeks.
“Mhm.” It’s all you can voice at this point. You don’t have any power over your body; can’t lift it off the mattress. “Love it.”
“Perfect.”
And then, everything seems to happen faster.
Arousal and orgasm have already built from his advances, and he gives you the rest when he starts drawing circles around your pussy again. Heightens your senses, slurps and drinks you up. Every single time it feels like he’s learned something new; you swoon at the attention to detail.
What might he be looking like right now?
Perhaps he’s biting his lip. Maybe his eyebrows are furrowed, usually tell-tale signs of either him enjoying his meal or him enjoying his meal.
“Shit,” you mumble, but you don’t think he hears it — too busy sucking at your folds, adding a finger to the mix.
Sometimes, the licks are generous, wide-tongued; sometimes, he focuses on each part individually. The insides, the clit; how you sound, how you wind.
There’s truly an utter craze you feel for this man; no matter which hazy or soft or delicate situation, he fits you like a missing puzzle piece. Like a match made in Heaven. Knows what he’s doing.
Because he knows you. Because he studies you. Observes you.
Sex is only one instance of his attentiveness.
And perhaps that’s the whipped thought that pushes you over the edge eventually. Maybe that’s why the moment passes so quickly and explosions blind you all of a sudden. Why your face glows so hot, sweat collecting over your upper lip.
It must be.
Because as he stimulates you for another minute, your sensitive cunt submits, the knot in your lower stomach unwinding. He unties it fully, eliciting a stirring feeling that makes your pussy flutter.
“Holy shit…”
You only register your voice when the peeping in your ear stops. Your voice is still damped, the world around you vanishing a bit; except for him. Always except for him.
And.
You also notice that your fingers are hurting. Did you dig them into the sheets too hard? Tug too hard? You don’t know… but their pads are almost numb.
Jungkook’s mouth is still there, though lighter now, and his finger is slightly slapping your cunt, encouraging you to keep letting go. Catching you on his tongue.
And then… it’s over. You remain quiet.
You’ll be a mess for the foreseeable future; or at least, the upcoming one or two minutes. Your back and neck are already covered in a sheen of sweat; it’s so unbearably hot, as opposed to the recklessly approaching cold outside.
Remaining like this, you let him kiss your body through your orgasm, delicately soothing the pain his fingers caused across your ass. Hovering above the small of your back, he asks, “Can you move?”
“Not yet. But…” You scan the spot next to the pillow until you find the lube, throwing it back to him at last. “I can watch.”
No objection. So you turn around.
When you finally meet his gaze again, having started missing it, he’s already unbuckling his pants. Right there, towering above you, looking directly at you. Jaw chiselled, lips swollen.
You decide to spur him on; bring the tie between your covered tits before gentle fingers grasp them deftly. Rolling your digits around their outline before squeezing them. There’s an instant reaction: The hard bite of his lip, the rushed discarding of his clothes.
And fuck, he’s beautiful. So pretty how he despairs bit by bit, only letting his pants make it to his knees before his cock has sprung out. A true monster, bloodshot like this, further growing as it twitches and jerks… blue veins wanting to be licked.
But it’s lube-day, and neither of you can wait.
So you let him make a fist around his thickness, stroking it and momentarily letting out a groan. His chest seems to deflate, shoulders dropping as he jerks himself off once more, squirts some lube into his palm, and returns to his intentions.
“Good,” you praise, watching his cheeks grow rosier, “wish you could go all out.”
“I can’t.”
You know. You know, because he’s storing all his patience for what’s to come. With and for you.
Breath stagnating, you watch a drop of sweat trail down between his tanned pecs and then into his shirt; fabric sticking to his skin. He doesn’t notice it, dazy as hell, wiping his tip clear of the precum. Every damn time you’re in disbelief when his cock grows in size, firmer and rock hard.
So many veins adorning it as it rises to his belly button; you’re sure you’ll feel them against your walls, too. You get on wobbly knees, hair already a mess, both of you still in your soaked white dress shirts.
Jungkook’s mane is falling apart much as yours, messier now, but soaking him in so much more sex appeal. There are no boundaries to his beauty; it transcends your understanding.
Enough of watching, you mentally capitulate a minute later. Too many moans and clipped vocals fill the room, whiny once, deep later; so you float up once your body allows, targeting his cock straight-forwardly.
You only deliver one surprise kiss, helping him out as you drag your tongue along the tiny slit. He reacts, caught off guard, voicing, “Oh—”
But against his possible expectations, you don’t continue. Instead, you drag your hand along his cock only twice — up and down, feeling the smooth skin, the slippery lube, the hardness underneath.
And then, you order, “Sit. Please.”
“What?”
“Here,” you point to the headboard, on your knees, kissing his sides and up his chest until you reach the open button. “Sit down for me.”
He pauses. Waits for a moment, touching your cheek when your face aligns with his. And when you keep your begging, soft gaze intact, he huffs out a broken laugh, and states, “Not sure if I can trust you to not kill me. But…” A kiss to your left eyebrow. “Anything for you.”
And whatever happens next, passes by fast.
How he obliges, dick dangling in front of his body, waiting for ruin. How he hisses a little when the sweat-drenched back touches the cold headboard. And how you adjust your body, soon sitting in reverse, facing the closet.
Floating over his cock, straddling him, spreading your pussy with your fingers. He stutters behind you, grasping for words, but silences when you move and wiggle your ass a little, only dropping a few inches until your cock can prod your entrance.
And that’s all you do. Multiple times. Practising restraint, focusing on the closet, blinking rapidly. Perhaps you’re more patient this time, because from behind, you hear another sharp hiss, and then a somewhat agitated, but endlessly turned on, “The hell are you doing to me?”
“Nothing,” you promise; the jest costs you all your energy, “what are you talking about?”
“You’re so funny, aren’t you?”
His words are accentuated by sudden grabs of your ass. One or two pinches. You should’ve known. But despite his impatience, he never forces you down onto his cock. Lets you do.
“I’m not trying to be,” you argue, aligning yourself with him gradually. Preparing yourself mentally and physically. Leaking to no end. “You’re just delusional.”
“Must be. Too good to be real.”
If you had it in you, you’d laugh. But the approaching sins and the image of his affected expressions fog your brain. Your body burns, your lower tummy tenses; your muscles feel heavy as you loom over him, and you only endure another moment.
Because soon enough, your thirst overpowers every other thought; the weight of your desire drags your body down, thankful that he’s keeping his cock upright. And then, just like that… so easily, no resistance detected, you slide down.
His tip splits you open first, eliciting an immediate sensation. New every freaking time; like the craze he fucks your mind into space with wipes your memory each time.
“Hnnngh, this is just…”
Whatever it is, there’s no word yet invented for it. So you give up right away, squinting your eye shut until you see dots and forms, breath stuck in your throat. The lack of regular inhales muddles your mind, and you feel further heat rise to your cheeks.
“Go— slow,” he pants behind you.
Of course he’s not all the way in yet. No matter how much it feels like it; you could keep going and going. Hard and monstrous, burying inside you, no end in sight.
The filling feeling catches you off guard each time; the way he leaves no room inside, causing butterflies in your stomach, wandering straight to your pussy. A ridiculously perfect phenomenon, like a key to its lock.
God. You’re overspilling.
As soon as he’s bottomed out, you relish the feeling of his skin against your ass for a moment, registering how his fingers sneak to your flesh slowly. And then, you angle your body forward, clutching the sheets before you start moving.
You keep your pace slow. Put all your intention on delicate motions, all the way up with a whimper, and then slamming back down with a gasp. The farther you go, the wetter you get. Until you’ve probably left a shimmering liquid all over his cock, gliding too damn easily.
“That’s… that’s new,” Jungkook mutters. At least that’s what you think you hear. “Gotta do it again.”
And you’re not even done with this time. But you understand — oh, you fucking understand. There’s something about not yet seeing his face but imagining all of it. How fucked out he must look. How red the apples of his cheeks must be. How sweaty his hairline is.
You grip the sheets tighter, legs closer to his, head between your shoulders. All you manage between the heavy breathing is a high-pitched, ”Jungkook—”
“Yes. Yeah, baby. This is…”
“I know. I know, keep talking.”
Which is an unfair command. He can think as much as you; you can barely comprehend letters, even less put them into actual words. But somehow, he still mutters whatever nonsense he can think of.
“Gotta do it again,” he repeats as you fasten your pace.
“Why always play such an angel, huh?” he asks as you moan and whine.
“When you’re a… a fucking demon. Literally,” he declares when you blow out breaths, letting out a crying sound.
He feels glorious inside you. Solid and gorgeous. He holds your ass cheeks in a tight grip, the strength nearly bruising when you let a hand wander back between your legs, grazing his firm balls.
When you turn around to check briefly, slowing your motions, he looks up, meets your eyes. Apparently, he wasn’t gazing at you directly at all; and you imagine there wasn’t much to see other than a bouncing mane anyway.
What he’s actually so distracted by must be…
“How’s it… it look?” you ask, circling your hips, feeling every vein, as predicted.
“It looks…”
Must be art.
Combined with his love for your ass, he must be enjoying the view; at least judging from the constant kneading and spreading. Allowing a direct, front-seat show of his cock appearing out of you, disappearing inside of you.
Glistening. Sucking him in. It must…
“Looks so fuck—ing insane from where I sit.”
The swear word is interrupted by a millisecond, breathy as hell. Allows a glimpse into how delirious he might already be, possibly faring worse than you. Impatient, seeking more.
And you do know your Jeon Jungkook well.
Because not even another breath later, his body that slid down halfway, bolts up. You feel the shift clearly; it pulls you backwards along with him. Only, you realise the movement isn’t the only source straightening you so fast.
First and foremost, it’s the freaking hand. Covered in letters and more ink, tugging at the dangling tie and following it up to the slowly unravelling knot before… abruptly snaking around your neck. Fingers right under your jaw, lifting your head.
He tugs you in until your back collides with his chest, and to your chagrin, you notice that neither of you has gotten rid of those stupid dress shirts. You won’t be able to wear them again without drifting to this memory…
Sleeve open, he wraps his arm around your body, just under your tits, and whispers, “Why… drive me mad like this?”
“H–huh?”
“So far away. Weren’t you ffffu—” The messy zero you’re drawing with your hips interrupts his string of thoughts, and he spends a second finding it again before he finishes, “Weren’t you far away long enough?”
Shit…
This isn’t just an affair. This isn’t temporary. Your brain still can’t quite understand that you’ve actually occupied this man’s heart.
That your gestures and touches aren’t a fleeting dream, but blissfully real. That you’re his, and that he’s yours.
He’s right. You were far away for too long.
So you sneak your arm back, around the back of his neck and pull him closer by his hair. His lips brush your cheek and then retreat to your ear. Nibbling for a moment. Kissing it.
You don’t know what to focus on — on the way his teeth light up your nerves, or the way his hand moves down your shirt and bra, and up your body. Soon taking your tits captive, squeezing hard, pinching your nipples.
“Move a bit,” he orders, though you don’t really have to.
His hand remains on your neck, so he pulls you forward; guess he’s sick of the shirt, too.
“You too,” you murmur.
“Yes. Patience, love.”
No. Fuck no.
Is it the nickname or his actions that empty your head this time? You don’t know. But you react.
Moaning, but it soon transitions into a yelp when he jerks up suddenly, balls deep. Your voice breaks, and you’re breathless; grateful when he unbuttons your shirt, dragging it down your shoulders.
Helping him however you can, you pull at the clothing almost aggressively, over your hand until it’s stuck there. Sporting a shirt paw, you hear Jungkook laugh behind you, peppering more kisses to your shoulder as he says, “Ah… take it easy. You’re with me tonight.”
One quick pause, and then, “You’re always with me. No rush anymore, okay? Yeah, baby?”
He aids you out of the shirt and tie with tender pecks. Thoroughly affected when you only nod so softly, eyebrows kissing. He unclasps your bra swiftly, breathing against your neck as he bares your body once and for all, putting the garment aside.
And then his forefinger moves along your neck again, only barely touching over your vocal cords; feeling your gulp before he journeys further down, back to your tits. Probably leaving scars; his nails are reckless today.
“Wanted to see those pretty tits so bad,” he says, though he doesn’t halt here — tiptoes south to your pelvis, and then to your clit. “Been thinking about this all day.”
Really? 
So each of these touches consume his thoughts every damn moment of the day, too?
“You wanna see them… properly?” you wonder. You haven’t moved in a bit, lost in him, mentally tracing the lines he draws on your body. “‘Cause I wanna see you.”
“Mmmmhm. Doesn’t sound too bad.”
“Then I’ll…”
You don’t speak further; busy with your further advances. Your pussy feels lonely the moment you let him slip out. You’re terribly wobbly on your knees, your thighs visibly shaking as you turn around.
Jungkook holds a hand towards you, a safety net in case you tip over. He holds your wrist gently as you move over the mattress; never more than now are you glad that his isn’t as soft as yours back at the house.
Keeping your balance, you straddle him again, back in a similar position, albeit finally facing him now. And your eyes roll back just the moment he fills you up again.
Your legs are exhausted; the moment you start moving, you barely make it far enough, and Jungkook notices immediately, whispering, “My baby tired?”
And when you nod, he holds you tight, wrapping you in his arms, and—
“Hold– hold onto me, okay?”
You do. And then — he thrusts up once.
When your head falls, his eyelids drop a little, nose touching your jaw as he says, “I could fuck you all goddamn day.”
“Do it… you can now.” His head descends to your chest, mouth open. You’re not sure what you’re opting for, but you still call his name, “Kook…”
Repeatedly lunging in, he collects the words he needs to say, so irresistibly frenzied when he vows, “I’m yours. Okay? And… I need you to stay. Am yours, baby.”
Out of nowhere — or maybe not. Maybe these very sentiments were swimming in his eyes all the time; you could just not see them yet.
Lips a hair width apart, you opt for one single kiss, only a ghost touch. You tell him, “Promised the world. Will promise it to you… too.”
“Good.” His nails scrape your back, and you tug at his hair. A moan tumbles out of him, transforming into words as he holds your body in place, pumping into you, “Fuck, you– feel so good. Just you. So, so good.”
“Ngh, I—”
“I know, I can… can’t breathe, either.”
He kisses your shoulder, the skin flaming under his mouth. Although late, you imitate his prior gesture, peeling off his intruding shirt as smoothly and fast as you possibly can. It’s been a wall between you for too long now; you need to see those pretty tits, too.
And once the buttons open and the shirt flies, you finally bask in the toned beauty. Soaked chest, brawny, chocolate chip nipples as hard as yours. Soon pressing into you, lips thirsting for you, slamming against your mouth.
The fever rises, the temperature akin to lava. Your sounds are desperate and wanting, and you hold onto him for dear life. And before you know it, you’re not claiming your throne anymore.
Suddenly, you find yourself floating for a moment, and then sinking into the mattress, and then curling your hands into fists and him slamming into you harder, deeper, all the way in...
Fuck.
Towering over you, he spreads your legs wide, temptingly licking his thumb before it presses down onto your swollen clit. One jab. A second. Another and another and another.
“Yes. Yes, please—” you beg and yell, letting him pound you into oblivion.
The first hint of stars already grace the darkness behind your eyelids, but then Jungkook starts delivering rapid, light slaps to your nub. He’s chasing your high as much as you are; you know. The chaos unfolding doesn’t hold him back from observing your reactions.
Only focusing on his own end of pleasure when you’re done.
Tears gather at the corners of your eyes, and you cling to his arms, his hands pushing into your waist. And it takes just a moment longer. And another second. Several more shoves, the curve of his cock dragging along your walls and your sensitive spot.
Thoroughly drenched, both of you, as he drives all of him into you. Parting your legs whenever they attempt to shut again. And the universe finally expands, a million celestial bodies dying and imploding, much like you and…
Suddenly, you’re off the cliff.
Falling into a deep ocean. Or the vast night sky. You don’t know — you don’t feel real.
All you know is that your thighs and ass are wet. That you ruined yet another sheet. That Jungkook is out of breath, fucking you through your high, ensuring that you come back to him only bit by bit, so, so slowly.
Gentler now, you feel his body subside, down to you. His skin is glowing with sweat when your eyes crack open just a slit, though they instantly drop close again when he kisses you once more.
He does it only softly this time, as if he’s trying it out. Gauging your reaction. And you do reciprocate the touch, even if weakly. You’re still too gone to look at him properly, but that doesn’t deter him from casting another spell in your heart.
Because his words reach every fibre of you. Butterflies swarm your stomach as he says, “I still can't believe that you’re staying. You did this… you fucking did this—”
“Why not? Wh–why can’t you believe it?”
“Because you’re staying with me. You stayed with me. And…”
Somewhere, it stings. That he’s surprised by constant company. By someone not leaving… by someone worth all his affection glueing themselves to him. And yet, you understand.
That’s a pain the two of you share.
He stares through your gaze, as if he’s frisking for something specific. With each passing moment, it’s like he’s realising something new, yet unable to really verbalise it.
Like something’s burning on his tongue.
But all he does whisper is, “How do I ever stay away from you now, huh?”
“Don’t.” You touch his face, and he doesn’t waste a second to lean into your touch, kissing your palm. “Please just don’t.”
“Won’t be able to… And it sucks that—”
He frees your face from your stick hair strands, still moving inside you. His own tresses hang into your forehead; his thumb touches your lower lip.
“That I can’t be with you every damn second of the day. I mean…” He leans in. Pecks your eyelids; your heart bursts. “What if I can’t move an inch from you?”
You keep staring. Unable to answer. Keep looking and drinking in every emotion laid bare in his confessions. Your misty mind feels calm; not as heavy as hours ago.
And you’re woozy; so indescribably giddy when he adds, “You… you mean so much to me.”
Damn. Damndamndamn.
And you’re fucking obsessed with him. Want his kiss on you all the time; words tattooed on your brain, etched into your soul.
“Jungkook.”
“Huh— yeah?”
“Can you…” You gulp, drooling at the thought, and then spitting it out at once, “Finish in my mouth.”
“Shit,” he exclaims, though the word is more a maniac laugh than anything else, “you know exactly you— you can’t say this to me.”
You know. Because any image of his cock ramming your throat empties his head.
Once more, he mumbles, ”Damn it,” before he’s picking up on pace. You move your hands over his broad shoulders, soon curling your fingers in to hold tight — it’s what the situation suddenly requires. Because gradually, his hips slam into you faster.
The dull sound of his thighs meeting yours repeatedly is lewd, volume increasing when he starts jackhammering into you. Your rhythmic, breathless cries become irregular and broken, turning into screams, and you feel a droplet escaping the corner of your eye.
Throat dry and jaw aching from the parted mouth, you keen from the sensitive feeling inside. You’re so full. So invigorated. Holding onto him tight, so you don’t crumble.
And just as you yell out a dozen curses, Jungkook, voice raised, states, “Fuck, fuuuck, gonna come, babe, f— open your mouth—”
You do. Instantly, tongue out, choking because it’s so much harder to breathe like that. Jungkook trembles over you, lips wet; his arms threaten to give out, letting his body nearly collapse on you, but just a moment before he does, he pulls out.
Hurrying, his knees dig closer to you, cock and ass right above your face as he holds the length between strong fingers. Secured in his palm, he strokes himself over you, glancing into your hungry eyes.
“Pretty girl,” his other digits raise your head by your chin, and his body is swinging, unstable; shoulders high. “My sweet baby… You can’t just…”
Pinching your chin fondly, he digs his cock into your mouth, still pumping the base and touching his balls. You raise your head to not suffocate in the process, and he lets your chin go to grip your hair, lifting you halfway just in time before—
His load finally spills. All of it. So much of it. Hot and sticky, thick as the ropes shoot straight into your throat. You nearly gag, keeping yourself together, swallowing diligently as he empties his balls.
There’s fucking buckets of it, shit…
You close your eyes, focusing on breathing, and once he’s done, you close your lips around his cock. Still hard, although slowly softening, you lick the remnants of his arousal and whatever’s left of you. The tastes mingle, and your head spins…
And then, he pulls back. You’re beaten, gulping, smacking away the saltiness.
Still overwhelmed from the taste, you let your head fall back onto the pillow; but your fingers still seek his touch. The mattress next to you flattens again as his knees retract, and soon enough, laying down beside you.
Both of you are too done in to speak, even less to move. So you let a few minutes pass. Then, you find his fingers, entangling them with yours; waiting a bit more.
And only when your heart rate calms a bit, you stir, hearing him suggest, “Quick shower?”
You smile. The kisses aren’t over yet.
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For a while longer, the profuse heat lingers.
The radiator is off, and some of the windows were open when you came home. And despite choosing to stay bare after the shower for some more, you don’t register any of the cold yet; you’re sheltered, safe and so, so warm.
Jungkook’s fingers keep trailing up and down way after you’re done, lips planting generous kisses to your scalp and face. He paves his way to the corner of your mouth and then up to your eyebrows; and when he reaches your nose again, you lift your head abruptly.
Chasing his kiss, even if for just a second, a hand on his cheek and shoulders rising. Occasional giggles and smiles, tickles and pinches keep you busy temporarily; you don’t know how much time passes, nor do you care.
You only snap out of your daydreams when his kisses gain on urgency, tongue diligent. A palm creeps dangerously close to your ass, threatening to slink to your beaten sex.
But your reaction is quicker than his sly attempt, and you say, “Wait— no. Can’t do it again.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Of course.” Damn his shoulder shrug. You tap his pelvis before you wrap a leg around his waist, teasing, “I didn’t feel the twitch at all.”
He shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. But it’s not my fault that you’re so stubbornly sexy.”
“Stubbo—” You giggle mid-sentence, imitating the shake of his head. “I hope you know I’d let you tie me down and do whatever the fuck—”
“My god. Stop saying it like that.”
“—but my body won’t let me yet. I also still stink.”
“Stink?” He shifts dramatically, burying his nose between your tits. His voice is muffled when he asks, “Do you?”
“Stop. You’re so weird,” you scold, but the word is drenched in laughter; you forcefully lift his head again. “We still need to change the sheets and the shower was quick. Do I not?”
“You kinda do. Like cherry blossoms.”
“Shut up.”
“What? Sue me for telling the truth. My girlfriend smells like cherry blossoms.”
Oh… oh?
Wait.
Your mouth shuts tight.
Did he…
The beam that spreads on your face is almost embarrassing; surprise, joy and affection conjoin, your guts twisting. You take a breath. Feel the sparkles in your own damn eyes; tender gaze directed at him.
And the freaking flutter in your heart; the temperature in your cheeks. Do these things ever stop?
The words sink in slowly; and Jungkook takes the time to ask, “What?”
“You… you haven’t called me that yet, have you?”
He’s perplexed. Guess even to him, it was a Freudian slip, because his eyes are wider than ever. He waits, thinks for a moment; then admits, “Uhm. No. I don’t think so.”
“Well, I… like the sound of it.”
“It’s… it’s true. You’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?” His eyes smile before he does; unrestrained devotion in them. “My baby?”
He says it so innocently, so sweetly that you can’t help but coo. Teasingly, you pat his cheek, telling him, “I mean I hope I am. Considering I’m moving in with you.”
“Yes. You are. Of course you are.” 
“…Girlfriend.” Sheepishly, much like a teenage girl, you keep your twinkle intact, still feeling the lasting gleam on your face. You must be reminiscent of the sun and the moon. Emboldened, you start, “Then… boyfriend. Can I ask you something?”
The term elicits similar glee in him, teeth out, grin bright. He waits wordlessly with sparkling eyes, and you touch his lip, asking, “How do you feel right now? About all that?”
“I feel… I’m in disbelief. You’re moving in with me and just. Somehow, even saying it feels surreal.” He sighs, searching for words. “I’m in disbelief and crazy for you. That’s all I know.”
Falling deeper and without an end is possible. Jungkook has taught you that; still does.
“…I was so scared you wouldn’t like me doing this,” you confess.
“What? Saying yes to being with me all the time? Sounds horrible.” He laughs. “I’m happy. And I’m happy that you’re happy, too. Okay?”
“I wasn’t for a while, you know? You make me feel good. Take me by my word and give yourself credit for it.” He needs to. He might have doubted his role in everyone else’s life so far, but his value to you needs to be clear at all times. “Not just now, Kook, but, you always make me feel good. I hope you know that.”
“I do. This time, I do…” Content, you smile; until he stalls for dramatic effect, mouth open to indicate something to come. Your beam expands to exhilarated laughter when he squeezes your ass again, adding with another snicker, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t make my favourite munchkin feel good?”
“…There’s more than one?!”
Hmm…
That’s what you’d been yearning for all this time.
Because there’s something so vulnerable about your elation; the enlivened titter. About your newfound feelings. About these very first phases of a sensitive relationship. Something serene.
And the meaning behind your words keeps changing with him; carries much more weight, and makes you feel so much lighter. As if levitating on cotton clouds.
Girlfriend. Boyfriend.
Peace reigns supreme and for a while you’re hopeful enough to doubt anything could disrupt it. Even the world is quiet when you look out the window.
September isn’t yet harsh enough to cover all above pitch black, but it’s still dark grey and drab. The sky still somewhat illuminates the unruffled room through the tilted window.
But just when tranquillity reaches its peak, your phone vibrates on the bedside table; you flinch.
The screen’s shine overshadows the faded monochrome of the world. It’s unwelcome, intruding — and once you lean over, holding the blanket over your chest, you realise that the message is just as unsought.
Mom [7:12PM]: We need to talk. Mom [7:12PM]: I’m still at Charmante for another hour and a half.
…At this time?
Did you leave her this desperate?
“What is it?” a dulcet voice asks from behind.
You hear the bed creak a little, his body cold without yours. Despising the distance, he puts a gentle hand to your shoulder, planting a kiss right next to it; when you lack his desired reaction, he asks again, “Everything okay?”
“Hm?” You barely tilt your head, eyes still glued to the words that you’ve already internalised. You cover his hand with yours. “Yeah. Just. Look.”
You hold the phone into his face; the penetrant white floodlights his skin. The warm gold shines in the glow, his lips drier than before. They move as he reads, and then, they close, giving way to a hum.
The initial silence suggests that he might be thinking the same as you — to bail. To shut the phone again, slide it to the edge of the bedside table and drop back against his chest, above his heart.
But you should know Jungkook better; he won’t discourage a familial reunion, praying for a better outcome than he ever had. He’s always spoken for your relationship with them — thinking back, he has never truly badmouthed your mother.
So you’re not too surprised when he hands you the phone back, careful to not turn your mother’s two marks blue, and suggests, “Maybe you should go.”
You sigh. You don’t want to. It’s too early for confrontation; time hasn’t passed, and the issue hasn’t yet marinated. Then again, the problem might only grow if you postpone this.
But your heart is biased, angry, refusing to oblige to her demands one more time. So you ask for yet another confirmation, “Right now? But I…”
You turn back to him, shaking your head slowly, troubled. He props his head up, eyes staring down to you as you lay flat on your back, hands folded under your breasts.
“Give yourself closure, babe.”
“I got closure.”
“No,” he strikes back, fingers lifting to your jawline. He touches it lightly, brushing it delicately, “Actual closure. To finish this. And she deserves it, too, you know? She’s still waiting there, angel.”
“Jungkook, you…” You click your tongue, gaze swerving to the unlit ceiling light and then back to him. “You’re too good.”
“I’m sorry.”
You smile, and he throws a palpitation-inducing twinkle back. You know he’s right — it must have been a shock for her after all. More or less double-crossed by her own daughter, humiliated in a public setting — her brain must be frying.
Reluctantly, you stretch your arm to the side, tapping for your phone, and roll your eyes at Jungkook playfully when you open the message to type back. His body floats down, lips planting a barely-there kiss to your collarbone.
You [7:14PM]: I’ll be there in half an hour.
“Alright then…”
Your body lifts off the mattress with the idlest of movements. The afterglow might die once you’re there, but you guess you need the confrontation–fight? Argument?—to ensure more, blissful nights.
This time, you don’t bother with your clothing as much as you did when you prepared for the press conference. You slip into the first best jeans you find, throwing a cosy pullover over your torso.
Busy with the rush, you don’t notice that Jungkook isn’t standing behind you in his usual grey joggers but in jeans, too. He’s fiddling with your car keys, stuffing his wallet into a pocket, and you stare wide-eyed, waiting for an explanation.
And once your digging stare pierces through him, he reciprocates it with similar confusion, half his hand still in the pocket as he inquires, “What?”
“What are you doing?” you ask, gesturing up and down his body.
“What do you mean?”
The back and forth of questions leaves you further bewildered, and you step closer, softly snatching the keys out of his fingers as you say, “Babe… It won’t take long.”
You don’t think he quite understands — it seems that to him, it was a given this entire time that he’d accompany you to your work building. But when it seeps through, his expression changes, more relaxed.
His head tilts, blinking slowly as he assures, “I won’t let you go alone.”
“Kook—”
“It’s honestly not a big deal. You said it won’t take long, so I’ll wait outside.” He shrugs, forefinger at the nape of his neck, scratching. “Plus, I’ll just get bored here alone.”
A warm flutter engulfs your heart. You wonder how couples spend days, months, years together without burning up every moment during their togetherness. Because you don’t think you’ll ever get over the fire he sets ablaze in your lungs — how does one get accustomed to affection like this?
You don’t know.
Maybe you don’t need to know.
Not more than what his eyes say, at least.
“What did you do all the time I wasn’t here?”
His grin is playful, but there’s tender truth in his words, “Something any guy waiting for you would do,” big brown irides meet yours, fingers fiddling, “counted the seconds until I could see you again.”
Your laugh is sudden before you ask, “Is that a quote from SpongeBob?”
And the joy holds on as you leave the apartment and rush down the flight of stairs. The short comedic journey to your car is distracting — most of reality only dawns on you when you step into the car.
Reminiscent of the last time the two of you drove over to a confrontation — just a little after his vacation; just a bit before the heartbreak.
The streets are quieter and emptier at this hour, the repose enhanced by the gentle drizzle. It’s significantly darker than when you arrived home, though it hasn’t been too long since you drove this exact way in the opposite direction. Two hours?
Maybe it’s the cloudy, almost black sky, accompanied by the hushed sound of the rain that’s amplifying your fears. Because the calming ambience from a minute ago worries you the closer you get — this once, you’d rather bask in sunshine and daydreams.
But no.
Hope is on your side; you’re done worrying, right?
As you sit up straight in your seat, Jungkook glances from you from the driver’s seat, eyes shooting to and fro between you and the street. His lips part as he operates the wheel with one hand, using the other to wrap around your fingers.
“Don’t be nervous,” he says, squeezing once before he lets go, brushing over the back of your hand and gripping the wheel again, “there’s just so much she can say. You made a decision as a full adult and she’ll have to accept it.”
“Yeah.” You follow the streetlamps and their warm radiance, redirecting your focus on the next as you pass each. “I hope so.”
The ride home was different; you were filled to the brim with energy and adrenaline. Your legs were putty, so he insisted for you to freeze on the passenger’s seat, reluctant to hand you the keys to drive.
You were waiting for the streets to end, to shut his door behind you, and to breathe and sigh through a sleepless night with him. The anticipation, combined with the aftermath of the press conference made you restless — you wouldn’t stop gnawing on your thumb.
And he didn’t interrupt your thoughts, let you flick through them until he finally looked at you at a traffic light. Raising the back of his digits to your cheek, assuring, “It’s okay, angel.”
Maybe the breathy tone and the hundred promises wrapped into one reassurance prompted your reaction at his place at all.
Jungkook turns into your work street, and you hold your breath. Your heart knocks violently against your ribcage, disabling a proper thread of thoughts. Which is a shame, because you really wanted to draw a collection of snappy remarks you could retort in there.
Instead, you merely look at the entrance far at the end of the street, unmoving as Jungkook moves into a parking lot and kills the engine. You blink; then blink some more. The gulp, you think, is audible in the small space of the car.
“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks.
“No… I don’t think she’d want that.”
“Okay,” he murmurs, leaning forward to pinch your chin between two fingers. He moves your head toward him, eyes a liquid, wavy ocean at night. Affectionate. “She’s your mom. Despite everything, I know she loves you.”
“I don’t know…”
“She does. I saw it the night I picked you up and I saw it Monday morning, too. So.” The head tilt, the soft curve of his eyebrows, the care in his pupils — they’re a healing bandage around your heart. “Don’t be scared.”
He leans over the centre console armrest, still holding your face in his grasp, and presses his lips just barely, sweetly to your wrinkled forehead. You think the muscles react immediately, temples relaxing.
For a second, he lingers, and then he pulls back a fraction, looking at you from an inch-wide distance, and whispers, “Don’t be. I’ll be here all the time.”
Right — armour-clad, like a knight. You finally nod, a weight dropping off your heart. You cement his smile deeper into your mind; a coping strategy in case things escalate in there.
Once more, you squint at the entrance doors, though barely visible from here. Hand on the handle, you say, “If I’m not out in twenty minutes, call the police.”
Jungkook tsks, eyes rolling with badly hidden amusement, ordering, “Just go. Will be here.”
Yes. Breathe.
He’ll be right here when you come back. And it’ll all be over then.
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The building feels sinister, empty like this. Nothing of the busy and lively mood remains; the lack of the chatter and footsteps drenches the entrance hall in gloom.
It reminds you of horror movie locations; you can’t help but hesitate as you walk in.
Especially today, the silence is unbearably odd; the press isn’t lurking anymore, isn’t swarming you anymore. You don’t want to imagine how hard it must’ve been to convince the reporters to finally leave.
You sigh…
In less than a day, they’ll have today’s highlights printed in newspapers and posted; feasting. Big, bold headlines will narrate the words you uttered; of course they will. With your family relishing a local celebrity status, the media would be damned if it didn’t make any profit out of you.
For the first time, however… you don’t care. You inhale.
And as you walk past the glass walls and up the stairs, clutching your work keys, you don’t feel the overwhelming urge to run away from this place anymore.
You’ve liked your job since you started, no doubt, despite your initial worries and fears. But the thought of losing against the world, or of losing him terrified you. Maybe you were too naive to fight those who wished you harm mere months ago, freshly out of college.
But now that you realise that you won’t be roaming these hallways in a couple weeks, that you have dropped the mic in a way they won’t be able to pick it up to hurt you again, you feel relieved. 
Feel a sense of responsibility. Like an adult.
Okay.
She told you she’d wait in an unoccupied office on the first floor — you usually frequent it with Zara, sifting through theories and changes. You wonder why your mother didn’t settle on her own office — then again, you imagine it must hurt to suffer defeat in the very room where she’s supposed to reign.
As you reach the room, your fist lifts to the door. Though you soon realise that it might be entirely unnecessary, judging the slight gap and the soft noise from within. So you gently push the ajar door open, met with a tired figure behind an imposing desk.
She’s lost in thought, but as you enter, her gaze slowly ascends, her posture reclining. And you see it immediately.
The usually cold eyes, now brimming with disappointment and sorrow.
Her eyes flit, as you assume unintentionally, into a corner. She dodges a simple greeting when you mumble a timid, “Hi,” and you drop the formalities right away. Don’t even attempt to sit — stand there, towering in front of her, not intending to stay long anyway.
And it seems her thoughts and intentions align, because she refuses to beat around the bush, a weary voice asking, “Why did you do that?”
“Mmh… You’re asking like I shouldn’t have.”
“Because you shouldn’t have.” Typical. Her point of view will always be her only truth. You listen on, but can’t help but tense. “Your father and I built this for you, and we intended to forward it to you. You know that.”
You don’t like that tone; you never have. It always ran over your spine as a shiver, weakening your knees. Even today, you’re conditioned to buckle just a bit. You exhale.
“Mom, have you ever heard yourself speak? You’ve never even remotely tried giving me anything else that way,” you complain, leaning to clutch the chair with one hand, the other gesturing around the room. “You built this stupid empire for yourself and kept it intact for me, so I can continue your work.”
You huff out a mocking breath, shaking your head just a little. “You never even asked me. You just told me to do it all.”
Her voice is sharper when she responds, “We didn’t hand it to you to make you suffer, for god’s sake.” She’s irritated, eyebrows deeply furrowed. “Christ, you were supposed to have a good future.”
“Yes, and I will! I’m happier than I have been all summer. Do you even have any idea what happened during that time?!”
You pause. She doesn’t answer, clearly sorting out a hundred answers.
Because a lot happened — most of it a direct effect of her or the media’s bullshit. Of course she won’t be able to pick out just one single thing.
So you explain, “Did you even understand that Jungkook broke up with me because of the thing you pulled with that dumb journalist?” You spit the word like a curse, grimacing. “And that he avoided me because he thought he was ruining me?”
You try to make it sound as ridiculous as you can muster, wondering if the realisation is dawning on her. 
“Did you even notice how I didn’t come out of my room for da—”
“Just why,” she interrupts, eyes shutting tight in disbelief and agitation, palms toward the ceiling, “would you jeopardise your life and emotions because of him?”
Jeopardise. Holy fuck.
She has a whack understanding of villainhood.
“Because he’s important to me! You can’t even imagine how hurtful it is to only be talking about work to you. You never ask me if I eat or sleep enough. You didn’t even give me a graduation present. He did! But you wouldn’t know!”
You think back to the lamp in your room, the one she has never seen — remember the dark ceiling, the aurora and stars projected to it. The touches that followed.
“He’s unbelievably important to me, Mom. Okay?”
“You’ve been with him for just a while.”
You grit your teeth. It’s like talking to a wall; a daycare child would catch the sentiment better than her.
“Yeah,” you say, scoffing, “and it makes me embarrassed for you, because I’ve known you my entire life and you never cared this much. Like, fuck, even Dad did.”
Her jaw clenches as you swear, nostrils close to flaring as you concede more pain, “Jungkook actually makes me feel human.” There’s a sting in your eyes. You blink it away. “I’ve been feeling like a person, which just… made me understand that—”
You gulp, your throat tied and your head heavier now. You wait, shrugging. Then—
“That I can receive affection, too.”
Your friends are your first memory of care; barring them, you only had a faint idea of what devotion entailed. Learning what it means to be genuinely important to someone had been on your bucket list — this year, you ticked it off.
“I just hate that he had to glue me together first for me to understand.”
Because she broke you first. The contrast couldn’t be more crystal clear.
She doesn’t dig your monologue. Her countenance fills with different shades of ridicule and embarrassment, shreds of anger thrown into the mix. Filed nails tap against an open folder, the other hand rubbing her forehead.
“You sound ridiculous,” she derides, “you can’t throw your future away because of love. It won’t pay your bills.”
“I’m gonna be a manager, though. I’ll pay my fucking bills. And Jungkook is working his way up, too.” Your latter statement gains a sceptical stare, followed by a skyrocketing eyebrow. It satisfies you. “He is. He’s getting his own part at an exhibition. We’ll be fine.”
She frowns, mouth already agape as she psyches herself up for another answer, and you already roll your eyes, prepared to interrupt.
“You—”
“You were so grateful last weekend,” you argue.
“Because you almost killed yourself!”
“No! If you’re so worried, then call! You could’ve called and asked where I was like mothers do. Made sure I was well and not drunk out of my mind!”
“Stop it,” she stands, her voice as damaging as a serrated knife. You flinch as she charges for you, and you breathe out, ready for a slap — but her body halts in front of yours. “How do you expect to run from this just by switching to another company? Novaura’s still mine, too.”
No…
You hold your breath. Straighten your back, hands sweaty as your nails dig in. She’s been predictable half her life; not always quite vile. But you know what she’ll say next, and you know it’ll be the most odious thing she’s ever uttered.
“And I could keep you here if I wanted to. They’d throw you out if I told them, too.”
Your eyebrows shoot up, and you blink, scorning, “You’re serious?”
A breath of laughter escapes your chest, and you shake your head in disbelief. You’re done.
You press your lips into a thin line before smacking them, nodding in faux agreement before you say, “Okay. Go ahead. But if you do, I won’t shut up this time. Today, I was being nice. I praised you, and none of my nice talk was actually deserved.”
Choosing your words carefully, you pronounce every syllable as if explaining molecular biology. She listens, not spitting an answer immediately.
So you challenge further, “You want to throw me out? Do it. It’s your reputation. I didn’t say anything wrong at the conference today, because it’s my right to choose the career I want. You’d be abandoning your own daughter if you pulled this through.”
You have her attention. Her lips stay sealed.
“And when they ask me,” you continue, eyes now fiery; you’re so done. So, so done. “I will let them know that you did it out of spite. Try finding an excuse why you did when we’re there. I won’t be at any disadvantage.”
You press into your palms one more time, relaxing your jaw, and opt to turn and walk away. Hurling one more glare towards her, you spit, “I have a degree, just a reminder.”
And that should be it.
Pride unfurls across your chest, warm in your stomach as you take long strides out of her office. You hear the quiet call of your name, suddenly desperate. But now that you’ve said your part of the truth, you don’t turn around anymore.
Only shut the door behind you hard; shutting all she’d hoped for with it.
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Despite the satisfaction still bubbling in your stomach, you can’t shake the clump in your throat and the anxiety in your heart. The post-fight adrenaline pumps through your veins, and your fingers shake.
There’s discomfort in deserting your own mother; the irrational fears were to be expected. You didn’t do anything wrong, you know, you know. But your organ still thumps like drums, and you lift a hand to your chest. A vain attempt to calm your breathing.
And then… something miraculous happens.
The brisky gust of the evening brushes your cheeks; the bright lights of the city contribute to your sudden peace. They’re a reminder that the world is far wider than this damn building. Than her.
But more than anything, your worries dissipate when the strolling figure grows in your sight. As you walk the short distance to your car, you feel your heart lighten — your forehead and temples relax.
He has his hands on his waist, chin slightly raised as if watching the stars that hide in the city sky anyway. His steps are small, and his eyebrows calm. He looks serene.
And once his hands slide into his open jacket’s pockets, he looks down the street again, surprised when you’re mere steps apart.
“Ah,” he voices, one palm already out as he stretches it toward you, “barely fifteen minutes. I was about to come in.”
Deep sigh in, you let his arm pull you in his embrace, swiftly wrapped around your torso. He smells like fresh clothes, after-rain, and vibrant, like the lights in the sky.
Your arms sling around his body with an urgency, and you muffle your voice against his chest as you ask, “Already?”
“Already?” he repeats, though dragging the word more than you did. His arm squeezes you once as his other hand escapes his pocket, too, stroking your head. “Those weren’t days? I swear I felt myself ageing in there.”
Your fist thumps against his chest lightly, and you giggle against his sweater. “Don’t be so dramatic.” Eyes slowly unfocusing, you rub the zipper teeth of his jacket between your fingers, softly mumbling, “Thank you for being here. You’re the best.”
You feel a movement over your head; he’s lowering his chin to your hair, still caressing your head as if lulling you into sleep. And it’s working — you feel drowsier by the second.
But then, his chest rumbles as he hums, cautious as he asks, “Are you okay?”
Are you?
You’re about to start a new life where you desire, with whom you desire. Finding permanent residency in his presence the way he finds it in your thoughts.
A few more steps, and you can make yourself home. Not in those rooms, but in him. Because that’s what he is.
A blanket, a radiator, the comforting voice that soothes and heals. Worshipping you within the same four walls every single day.
You’re not just okay — you’re craving.
Leaving his warmth and scent, you lean back and look at him. His eyes are as big as you’re used to, awaiting an answer, genuinely curious. Your heart threatens to burst; the sting is painfully sweet.
“Yeah,” you answer, touching the purple sweater, “I promise I am.”
Because. Because that’s all you ever wanted.
It’s over. You’re going home — you are home.
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You can’t remember whether it was your fingers clawing into Jungkook’s shirt or his hand brushing through your hair that kept you in the sheets twenty minutes longer than anticipated.
The plan was to snooze once and get into a routine with divided work. One prepares breakfast, the other makes the bed and cleans up before leaving the apartment.
But it seems that so far, your routine has consisted of lazy mornings. Tired hums. Quiet, hushed and slightly hoarse good mornings and entangled limbs.
You pressed between his shoulder blades as he strokes your head, planting kisses on your temple and your forehead.
“Slept well?” he asked today. Another peck in between. Then, drowsy and sighing, “Is the mattress okay, by the way? I like the firmer ones better since they’re good for your back, but I know you had a softer one, so if you need…”
“No, not at all,” you promised, warm and safe under the covers. “This is perfect.”
No… the softness wasn’t needed. Your muscles were so relaxed, you were sinking into the bed anyway. Sleeping a dent into it. At peace as his nails gently scraped over your scalp, massaging and caressing.
He could’ve lulled you into sleep like that; and his voice served as soft, white background noise. The words he used. The honey sweet tone. The past tense in what you had, and what you have now.
If you hadn’t been so lethargic, you would’ve floated through your chores. But when the clock ticked too dangerously fast and brought your working hours sickeningly close, you decided to eat out instead.
You always fool around at breakfast too much — stretching it longer than it needs to be. A café was, surprisingly, the smarter, more time-efficient option.
And a great opportunity and excuse to explore the places near you. Jungkook promised there was an amazing bakery nearby, and you trudged along, tummy rumbling, now that you weren’t in bed with him and satiated anymore.
“You’re sure you’ll be at home by the evening?”
You gather the remaining crumbs of your pastry with the pad of your thumb, waiting for Jungkook to slurp the last of his coffee. He nods, soon answering, “Mhm. I won’t be at work for long. Might come home before you do, actually.”
“Okay,” you suckle at your thumb, shoulders relaxing as you stare at the drizzle outside. The day started out grey. “And then tomorrow, I’ll be off work by the afternoon, so I should be able to bring more things over from the house.”
Tired from the morning, your eyes remain on the customers trudging in and out of the café. They shake the water drops off their umbrellas, or sigh at the prospect of stepping out into the rain again. 
Their expressions aren’t quite dispirited, but… perhaps a little dim.
You raise a side of your lips in empathy, and then continue, “And then on Saturday, I’m getting the truck to the house, for the rest of my stuff.”
“Babe,” Jungkook interrupts, pausing to smack the coffee’s taste away. His hand slides over the table, wrapping his fingers around three of yours. “Let me come with you tomorrow. You’re already doing too much.”
“Absolutely not. I won’t drag you there unless I absolutely have to. Besides,” your voice is soft when you lean forward, raising your entangled digits to your lower lip. “You’ve been busy plenty, too.”
And it’s true.
He’s been taking care of the apartment and cooking dinner these days. Organising documents with you, so you have whatever needed to change your address and whatnot. Doing small purchases for the household and vacating some of the closet to make place for your stuff.
Two weeks have passed since the press conference — and Jungkook has been a pillar of strength and sanity as much as you have been his. You communicate each night, regulating finances, dividing roles and sharing comfort.
You don’t think you’ve ever witnessed or felt a relationship as symbiotic as this one… and you’re just starting out.
His thumb brushes over your fingers, still reassuring you, much as you expected, “I honestly don’t mind.”
“It’s okay,” you argue, “we still have a lot more to do. Save your energy for that. I’d still love these deco vines for the living room, remember? Let’s get them together.”
Your words are breathy, as if you’re being reborn. A breeze of refreshment — and he feels it, too. There’s something about the thought of simplicity livening up your bustling days.
Mundane tasks, like shopping for casual things together.
Groceries. Decoration. Plants.
With all the planning of switching work and homes, the two of you have been incredibly breathless. You even told him about a meeting at your new place today, a discussion about trivial matters, general know-how and preparation you need to do.
The sliver of stress is visible in your eyes — you’ll be seeing the other managers today. And you’re nervous about it, unsure what vibe the meeting might set.
But despite the stress, you’ve been as bright as Venus in the night sky. He understands. If anyone does, then him.
Because the idea of strolling through Ikea's tableware department is balm to his mind. Your laughter sounding through its hallways, half your body leaning over the shopping cart, because you surely seem like the type to do so.
His voice is as gentle as the mizzle outside when he promises, “We’ll get anything you want.”
“Really?” Your smile is radiant, cheeks glowing as you press the lightest kiss to one of his knuckles. “Sounds good to me.” 
Time passing has always been a bummer. Despite the quiet noise in the café, the clock ticks as if in a deafening volume, a reminder that you need to let this hand go soon.
Sometimes, you do worry. About the attachment, and the healthy obsession with him. And on the other side, about every moment he worships you, and every second he misses you.
How there’s discomfort in being apart, even if for mere hours. Maybe that’s why he holds you so tight at night. Or why you’re constantly itching to get home.
Perhaps there’s a lingering fear that your time separated brought, a sneaking anxiety of being dragged apart again.
Yet, instead of dwelling in improbable what-ifs, you breathe in the air of the room, direct your senses away from the clock and toward the increasing patter of rain against the window panes. 
You squeeze the fingers around you harder, delving into one last soft conversation as you ask, “You’re at lunch with Joon later, right?”
“Yeah, he promised me burgers today.”
“What for again?”
“Because I’m his favourite staff member?” Jungkook lifts your hand to your mouth when you open it, shushing you with your own fingers. “Don’t say it. I am his favourite staff member.”
“‘Kay. Understandable.”
“You know…” He shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly, but the soft drop of his gaze, fingers fiddling and toying with yours betrays him. He’s still so delicate around you. “If you want, you can join.”
“Oh. Mmmh,” you think for a moment, but then click your tongue, insisting, “it’d be weird, I think. Dunno if he’d want it.”
“I would want it.”
He always does.
Yearning. Obsession. A humane way of falling in love.
You feel like a person. No matter how odd the phrase might sound in your head, the painful truth behind it is undeniable. You feel like a person.
“Okay,” you reply, slowly reclaiming your hand, reluctantly preparing to leave. “I’ll see if I find time and energy during my lunch break.” You halt, unblinking, before you look back at him with squinting, uncertain eyes. “Totes Bag Street, was it?”
The sudden, choking laugh erupting out of Jungkook is a surprise. If his coffee cup wasn’t empty yet, he’d still be sipping, probably ruining the white, silky shirt you’re sporting today.
You actually mean it, don’t you?
His trademark laugh is high-pitched, melodious, though a little more controlled in the public space, but the flashing of his teeth and his dimples implies genuine joy.
You already know: the lighthearted banter has become a hallmark of your connection. Doesn’t get old. Heartwarming — albeit right now, very confusing to you.
So you cock an eyebrow, questioning, “What?”
“Babe,” he simply mutters, hands coming together in a mock prayer. “Shit, you’re so fucking cute.”
He lowers his head between his shoulders, torso shaking, and you pull his palms apart again to dig with another, ”Hey. What?”
“Boats Track Street. Not Totes Bag Street,” he corrects, endeared by your wide eyes. The back of two of his fingers grazes your temple, and then down your face, before playfully pinching your chin. “You’re so cute. And a dummy. I mean it.”
“You’re a dummy,” you reply, forcing your face back and out of his grip. “Besides, that’s a pretty stupid name.”
“To be fair… I agree.”
A hesitant smile spreading on your face, your gaze wanders to the clock at the opposite wall again. The beam drops a little, giving way to a small sigh.
“It’s okay. I’ll probably be busy anyway… will join you guys another time.” You shove the chair back, getting off with a fatigued groan and a hand rubbing your tummy. “And I feel a bit weird today, too. Shouldn’t have eaten before bed because I’m feeling the effects right now.”
“Ahhh, I told you. No worries. I’ll make you something light tonight. And some peppermint tea.” His hands wave you goodbye, making a begone motion. “Go for now. The longer you stay, the worse the next hours will be for me.”
“Dork. You must survive.”
You huff, eyes rolling at the dramatics, and push your bag behind your body before you lean into him. A hand on his cheek, you watch his eyes close, setting your lips onto his.
The two-second long goodbye peck remains just that before his fingers, pushing against the nape of your neck, tug you in again.
Against your lips, he mutters, “Eat, okay? Call if your stomach bothers you. Anytime. And don’t be nervous. You’ll have fun.”
And before you can answer, he kisses you again.
Once, and then twice more. Your guts somersault, even when he finally lets you go. Your lungs feel dry all of a sudden.
All you have left in you is to nod. For your wobbly legs to step away. Looking back a few more times until the door opens, the bell chiming, your transparent flower umbrella spreading over your head.
Jungkook watches as your careful steps wander away, your head never lowered like every other passerby’s. They’re hiding from the rain, but you’re staring up, observing the movement of the clouds before your focus falls on the road — and a minute later, you disappear out of his sight.
His chest and muscles relax, a quiet laughter still tumbling out as he repeats, “Totes Bag Street.”
The sky may be colourless. The people might look into the world dimly.
But despite the rain tapping against the window, no inch of you is painted in a dismal, drab grey. You’re the brilliant, gleaming sun.
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The location of your new job isn’t as fancy as the area around Charmante. The building certainly isn’t made of reflecting glass throughout.
There’s wood and actual walls; not every door opens with a chip, but a key, and the luxuries are limited. Compared to your old building, this one is humble, but it still oozes wealth and success — guess that’s what a subsidiary looks like.
The meeting room for today is somewhere on the third floor. Your mind races as you fix your clothes in the elevator, throwing regular glances into the mirror to guarantee that your hair sits as perfectly as three seconds prior.
You breathe deeply, exhale through a rounded mouth. Whether it’s this meeting or something you ate, your stomach does not feel great.
As the nerves start kicking in, you think of Jungkook’s hand in yours and the everlasting smile. You use him as your safe place; close your eyes for those few seconds that the elevator floats up.
And it works. Feels like an oasis, calm and lovely.
That is, until the bell pings, forcing your eyes open. You stare up at the number, nearly stepping out until you realise that — you’re not on the third, but on the second floor. Were you supposed to halt here?
No. And there’s nobody outside, waiting.
Until, someone is.
Rushed steps move to the elevator, a nice but stressed voice urging, “Ah! Keep the doors open, I’m coming!”
Strange. Oddly familiar voice.
You can’t say why, but you already prepare a polite smile, trying not to let the ticking seconds stress you out. Rationally, you know you’re not late, but the time passing messes with your nerves.
And it seems it doesn’t get better when the figure finally rushes in, pressing the already lit number 3 before he says, “Good. Just in time.” Looks back at you, delighted as if he expected you somewhere around, and adds, “Ah! Hello!
It takes a moment. Then another.
One more until you figure out who he is, why you feel like hurling and how maybe, just maybe, he might be heading to the same room as you — as another new manager of Novaura.
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You blow a raspberry at the boxes in your backseat. 
Deciding to at least take your favourite box up with you, you leave the rest here for now; you don’t want to bug Jungkook yet. You can heave it all upstairs on the weekend, in peace.
It’s only moderately heavy — but with both your hands busy, the task is a hassle. You secure it under your arm as you close the door of your vehicle with your hip, clutching the phone previously tucked between your cheek and shoulder.
You straighten your head, reflexively looking up to Jungkook’s apartment window. To your apartment window. Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue just yet.
Somehow managing to open the entrance door, you sigh into the phone, giving Taehyung a relieved, “I’m finally back home.”
“Mmmh,” Taehyung voices, and you imagine his full lips in a line, tiny nods serious, “how’s it feel? Knowing that this is where you’re gonna be for the foreseeable future?”
“It feels… quiet.”
“What, he bore you to death like that?”
You giggle, taking deep breaths as you ascend the staircase; though slightly irritated by the slowly and constantly slipping box. You heave it back up.
“Absolutely. You’ve no idea, really.”
Taehyung laughs, but your joke doesn’t stick for long. You feel bad immediately — even in a playful tone, your heart knows nothing for Jungkook but praise. You guess that’s how kindness affects people.
And your brain stays mean, prolonging your pout — because it conjures pictures of a crooked smile, wrinkles around tender eyes, a tilted head as shoulders rise when the laughter reaches its peak…
A sting jabs your chest.
The longing is unbearable, and you’re barely another level from the apartment. He’s waiting for you on the other side of that flat’s door, and you know his pupils will widen in his dark brown eyes the moment they fall on you.
“No, that feels horrible to say,” you correct, shaking your head. You pause in the middle of the staircase for a moment, gaze fixated on a dirty spot before you shake your head once more. “You know Jungkook. If he’s not joy personified, then I don’t know.”
And it’s true — despite his own demons, you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone spread this much comfort.
“I just meant that my mind’s been quiet. And a lot more peaceful. Not a hundred worries whirling around anymore,” you tell him, your steps upward slower now.
“Just ninety-nine, huh?”
You smile. “Maybe. But he’s not one of them.”
Dull background noise interrupts your thoughts; Taehyung doesn’t respond to you, but reprimands Yoongi in a distant mumble. He’s been doing it since he called, covering his phone to argue with his friend.
Apparently, Yoongi had been with him for hours before you picked up Taehyung’s call; they’ve been settling the rest of the arrangements, scurrying through paperwork. The apartment you considered is entirely their adventure now, but you aided in anything they needed.
Which basically just meant clearing things with the landlord and then answering his new tenant’s million questions. 
As in — how were you thinking of decorating it? Why were you going to take it? Did you calculate monthly costs including rent, water and gas? You didn’t mind, because Yoongi might be one of the most polite people you have ever met.
But it seems he’s reluctant to return to his dorm’s lonely walls, too.
Because Taehyung values alone-time, and Yoongi hasn’t granted it for hours. You feel kinda bad for Yoongi. And while the younger man attempts his hardest to maintain the gentle tone, you hear the exhaustion in his voice.
“I’ll drive you home after this, ‘kay?” he tells Yoongi; you snicker at the groan that returns. “You got this, bro.” Attention back to you, a murmur of your name. “Anyway. Everything should be good now.”
“I’m glad. That was… quite something.”
A euphemism, really. The handful of visits weren’t fun; not to mention the stuff you had to get over with for your own move. And then all those calls. You needed minutes upon minutes of preparation for each of them. One hell of a businesswoman, you are.
“No, say it as it is. ‘Cause it knocked me the fuck out. You guys really had to drag me into this.”
You feel guilty about making Taehyung your spokesman here; but as an already residing individual of the building, he was a great support in this matter. 
“We— love you,” you tell him, inhaling deeply between your words. You rub the dirt off your soles on the welcoming mat and hold the box tight, not opening the door yet. “Tell your forehead to feel kissed.”
“Nah. You’re gonna upset Eun.”
“Why? Eun and I are more in love then the two of you might ever be. She’ll choose my side.”
“Ha. Fair. Whatever.” His voice doesn’t carry an ounce of solemnity. Once again, you imagine him pulling a face, waving your statement off. “Enjoy your life. Your voice has been echo-y forever. Also, don’t forget to talk to Jungkook about what we discussed.”
Ah… yeah. There’s more than just one thing you need to clear, actually.
“Aye, aye, Captain,” you confirm, though arguing, “I’m surprised you haven’t done it yet.”
“You do it. I know he’ll like hearing it from you better.” He pauses to answer his friend; you don’t even know what he said. “Okay. I’ll go grappling with Yoongi then.”
“Good luck.”
“Buy me sushi.”
One last laugh before you cut the call.
The clicking sound of your keys turning in the lock is music to your ears and balm to your feet. You skip the threshold with a relieved release of air; the apartment smells like diffusers, so warm compared to the declining temperatures outside.
You don’t hear a movement until you get to your knees, seating the box next to the shoe cabinet. As you start working on your jacket, you register a shuffle from the living room, but no voice — Jungkook said he’d be home before you. Perhaps he’s painting; or gaming.
A short text message during lunch assured him he could start dinner without you; deep down, however, you understood he wouldn’t listen anyway. And the obvious lack of aromatic scents wafting from the living room proves it.
You don’t enjoy eating alone — and he knows.
Clearing your throat, you announce your arrival, bent as you take your shoes off and rub your aching heels for a moment. You wish you could float. Offer them reprieve.
Stumbling in the anteroom, you wait for a greeting, but it seems he didn’t hear or notice you. You lick your lips, standing straight, and then speak into the hallway—
“I swear I don’t have a foot fetish,” a short pause — nothing, “but can you massage my feet again today?” You wait. Not a word comes back. So you joke, “Actually, just massage my whole body? I don’t mind. Need some hands-on relaxation.”
Subjectively, you think you’re hilarious. You giggle on your way to the living room, cheerful despite the jam-packed day — but your laughter ebbs down soon. Because he’s standing in the middle of the room, lips pressed into a tiny smile, head lowered, hands in his pockets.
And right in front of him, a timid woman in a coat. Blinking at you.
Your eyes dodge her gaze immediately. It’s an impolite reflex, heart pounding as you watch Jungkook’s hand lift to his forehead, hiding behind his bangs as he rubs. When he looks at you again, there’s an equal amount of worry and amusement in his expression.
“Shit,” you mumble, another mishap, and you continue cursing internally. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And then, “I’m sorry.”
She looks like him. Same sweet aura, short hair, big eyes.
Her right digits are wrapped around the fingers of her other hand, mouth shut tight, though smiling. She knows less what to say than you, and the moment stretches and stretches and does not end and—
“Hi,” you finally murmur, bowing slightly before you cringe. Too much? Not enough? You clear your throat again, and then introduce yourself quietly. “You must be Mrs. Jeon. I… I didn’t know you’d be here or I would’ve come earlier! I’m very sorry.”
Are you rambling?
How horrid. You’d feel so uncomfortable if you were her.
Only, she barely showcases any sign of displeasure or irritation. Despite striking you as an introvert, her movements soon prove confidence — the type to know what she’s saying or doing, but in a humble and gentle way.
She unfolds her fingers and lets them dangle, soon moving up to clutch the strap of her bag. Looking between Jungkook and you once, she raises her eyebrows and shakes her head, as if to promise that there’s no reason for any tension.
You sigh when she speaks, “Oh, it’s alright. I didn’t stay long and I need to go in a minute anyway.”
“Oh?”
“I was going to leave ages ago, but,” she points to her son with rolling eyes, and the man in question shrugs in faux guilt before she speaks on, “that one wanted me to see you for at least a second. I wanted to meet you properly… prepare dinner and all, but. It’s still nice to meet you.”
Her eyes are kind, taking you in; if you could guess, you’d say she’s… excited. Urging to finally speak to her son’s girlfriend.
She moves a teeny tiny bit, as if opting to offer her palm to you, or to— maybe hug you? But maybe she realises the timing, or sees your terrified expression, because she holds back for now politely.
“I see. It’s wonderful to meet you, too.” Incredible how you spoke about initiatives just this morning, rambling in the office until someone had to interrupt you for their own turn. Now, you can’t get a word out. “But, I… I am still sorry I barged in so rudely.”
She grimaces, moving closer to you with a waving motion, “You didn’t barge into your own apartment. It’s all good.”
Jungkook doesn’t interrupt much; doesn’t interfere with his own jests and statements. They mirror each other so much, though. In the way they smile, and in the way they talk.
Even the manner in which she places her hand on your arm, reassuring you, delivers the same warmth. You tense for a moment, not quite expecting the touch; but it’s motherly. Soft. 
A new emotion floods your heart, but you can’t decode it. Too many thoughts streaming in, brain working overtime to come up with a full sentence without stuttering, without those dumb hesitation markers that your studies taught you to avoid.
And maybe you’ve succeeded — only, the clump in your throat, accompanied by a strange twist in your stomach builds a barrier now.
Her touch feels… good.
“Do you… would you like to sit?” you ask, voice softer by an infinite amount. “I have a variety of tea here, and you could choose one. If you…”
You want to talk. About whatever. Not the slip occurring a couple minutes ago; maybe you just finally want to know who made Jungkook the man he is today. It wasn’t necessarily his father, was he?
Somewhere, this incessant, constant comfort derived from. But.
“I’d like nothing more than that,” she admits, “but I have massage therapy in a bit, and should get going. An adult’s back.” You laugh, and she gestures towards you with an open palm. “Oh, don’t you work in an office? Take care of yourself, too.”
“Not just an office, Mom,” Jungkook interrupts, inching closer until next to you and rubbing your back, proud, “she’s a manager. She walks around a lot, so the problem are,” he nods toward your feet, “these.”
True. Just today alone, your heels made it feel like you ran a marathon. Learning about each corner and wandering around that building drained you.
“Ah… I thought so,” she says.
You blink in faint confusion until you realise. Jungkook lets out a breathy laugh, brief but telling, and his mother smiles in awkward amusement. Hell.
Your blood shoots back into your face, warming it thoroughly, and just before you can opt for another apology, she says, “You have him to take care of you. Make him spoil you! You do, don’t you?”
Her voice changes the moment she faces her son, a little strict but all in good fun; her eyes squint and he exclaims, “I do!” the moment you defend, “Oh, he does! He definitely does.”
She seems to like this. There’s a sparkle in her eyes, similar to the one you already know; perhaps she’s just as endeared as mothers–usually?–get, realising their children are happy and settling.
“We take care of each other,” you tell her then, and she responds with a content nod.
“Good. It’d be a shame if not. Taught him how to treat people.”
“He knows for sure, ma’am. I don’t think you’ll ever need to worry about that.”
You’re careful with your gestures, your smiles, your movements. Even though she’s made clear as day that she’s not to fear, you still shift your entire focus on the delivery of your words.
If you weren’t, you’d be more lax. Looking through the room, exchanging glances with Jungkook. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d notice that he’s playing with the ends of your hair.
And you’d see the way he looks at you.
With those barely blinking, calm eyes. An ocean of fondness in them, a light, lost smile around his face. As though you’re soothing him, pumping oxygen into his lungs.
You don’t see any of it; but his mother does. And you register the drift of her pupils, the minimal upward movement in her eyebrows as she shoots a glance at him — then back at you.
But when you follow her gaze to him, he’s already snapped out of it, clearing his throat.
“You should go before you’re late,” Jungkook reminds her, removing his hand from your hair, “I’ll go spoil her as you taught me, Mama.”
“You better. Pressure’s on.”
He smirks, lopsided as he slings an arm around her shoulder. She’s so much smaller than him. “Tell Dad Hi from me.”
A slight drop of his lips. He doesn’t look at her but the ground. Tell-tale signs of a distant ache, hidden behind an attempt to find a cure.
The sting is palpable, right in the middle of your heart, but it dissipates bit by bit as he smiles at you again. Genuine once more, back to where he was only five seconds ago.
You nod at her, one last, non-verbal confirmation that you feel cosy here. There’s something inarguably sweet in her instant care. How she instantly roots for your happiness. How she’s pouring all her empathy into you with a single look.
A stare that usually understands someone else’s pain; and then hopes for eternal peace for them.
She doesn’t even know you — does she? You wonder if he ever did speak about you.
“Okay then. Tell me if you need anything,” she says it to Jungkook, but promptly turns to you, promising you, “you can, too. Of course.”
“I will. Thank you so much.”
Purse lifted further up her shoulder, she starts a move toward the exit, already starting to wave you goodbye before she suddenly stops. Looks at you, and blurts, “Oh, and— has he uhhh…?”
She starts the sentence with hesitation, ending it with uncertainty and a look over her shoulder. You follow her eyes, barely catching him throwing a warning sign. His eyes are ripped open, head delivering tiny shakes, but he returns to normal the moment he catches you staring.
Okay. Something happened there that you’re not part of.
But that you’re supposed to be part of? You don’t know.
You’re curious, though. Already aware of what you’ll be pestering him with tonight.
She shuts up, letting out a short, tiny breath. Her small, sweet fingers curl just once before she releases them again, and she flattens her coat, nodding.
“I’ll leave you two alone then,” she declares.
“You should stay for dinner next time, though!” you offer.
“Of course. I’m eating with my husband after the appointment, so he’ll probably already be waiting, but. Next time for sure. And you should come, too, someday.”
Right. 
It doesn’t stop. It’s permanently odd hearing someone talking about that man other than Jungkook. Shouldn’t be, because she’s the closest and dearest individual to him, sharing a home and marital bed. But…
It’s like people don’t quite feel real from stories until one actually faces them. His mom’s subtle, harmless words about her husband make him feel realer, and Jungkook’s issues with them.
But most of all you wonder — why has he never visited here? You wish he had. You wish he would sometimes. But she didn’t even suggest bringing him with her next time. Or how his father would be delighted about a visit, too.
It doesn’t seem to faze Jungkook. Or maybe it does, but he doesn’t let it show. Or — worse. Has he gotten used to it? His father’s absence, or the term that defines their relationship.
Because he nods, a soft smile as a son usually throws at his mother. Casual but loving. He says, “Won’t keep you here then.”
Jungkook kisses her head at the door, and she stuffs her hands in her coat, politely bidding you goodbye.
You watch as she approaches the staircase, still waving when she turns around one more time. You sigh in relief — she was friendly. No panic. You didn’t fuck up entirely.
And despite the last moments of gloom that the mention of her husband evoked, you hear Jungkook’s chuckle resonate once the door finally closes. His steps move toward the living room, his shoulders shaking.
You nearly slide down the closed door as you watch him, head falling back before he falls into a wholehearted laugh. You imagine deep, multiple crinkles around his eyes, mouth wide in joy.
Eyebrows kissing, you follow him inside, nearly bumping against him when you realise he’s standing in the middle of the room, body still shaking from the chortle. He’s facing the ground, and you hit his arm from the back.
“Shut up,” you only order, opting to walk away.
But he turns to you, a hand around your elbow; he can barely breathe when he assures, “Okay. Okay, I’ll stop. Sorry, I just—” He sniffles as you look at him, sulking and trying his gloating not to make you laugh, too. “What were you doing?”
“That’s not funny!”
“I’m not trying to be funny! I’m serious.”
Which he clearly isn’t. The smile is too infuriatingly wide, and the tug at your arm too affectionate. He’s amused and you hate–love?–that you are, too. You keep the act of agitation intact for another moment.
But pieces of you break, your heart a melting mess when you watch his eyes nearly close, nose scrunched up. His shoulders rise — they always do whenever his laughter increases, bunny teeth protruding and the mole under his mouth a magnet to your lips.
And when he raises his hands to your face, cradling it, and speaks, you lose it entirely.
“What were you even saying, munchkin, huh? You’re such a little idiot, you know?” he playfully scolds, squishing your cheeks; peppering kisses on your skin and your lips; barely allowing you a moment to talk.
“And you’re—” you say between tiny kisses, distracted by the childlike, muah-ish sound effects that accompany his pecks, “so mean.”
“And you are the sweetest thing to exist.” The lovingly aggressive touch vanishes from your cheek to be replaced by sudden pinches; your protests are high-pitched, and unfortunately, enhance his statement. “Okay, okay. Come on.”
He flicks your chin as if to provoke you further, but dodges all your teeny tiny rage to come when he moves past your body. Warning abandoned, his fingers tweak your ass as he targets the kitchen, and you yelp, instantly slapping a hand over your butt.
“Freshen up and let’s get to dinner. And hurry. Gotta give you hands-on relaxation later.”
“You’re the worst, I mean it.”
But his evil snicker isn’t.
He might make your hackles rise, and test your patience the way he used to so long ago. Back when you’d seek him out in a miniscule dorm room, eyebrows furrowed just to see him a bit longer after class.
You’re always baffled how your foundation still stands; after all the shattering and agony and stings that fractured your heart. Only now, you’ll be surrounded by the bicker every hour of the day.
And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
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Living through an odd day at work, driving around town and embarrassing yourself in front of your boyfriend’s mother makes one dizzyingly hungry, you realised. Stress didn’t let you eat properly today.
Even now, there’s something you need to reveal to him — but the moment you sit down to eat and crack the first joke, you don’t have the heart to. And then, combined with the rush still lingering from the awkward, wholesome interaction before, and the shift in mood, you soon do the worst:
Forget about the issue.
Your eyes meet the bottom of your bowl sooner than preferred, your stomach still seemingly as empty as before. Whatever magic Jungkook seasoned the dish with, you want him to sprinkle it on your tastebuds every day.
Jungkook is sipping on his water when you suddenly look up and place a hand on his bicep, shaking him for attention. A guilty Oh slips out of you as you watch droplets roll down his chin, and he tries not to choke as he puts the glass back on the table.
“Babe—”
“I’m sorry!” you exclaim, thumb wiping at the fluid dampening his chin. “Just. Can we have more? That helped with that sickness all day, and… I’m still hungry.”
Along with the lack of appetite, you assumed the stress and the constant overworking dragged the feeling of illness and stomach ache throughout the day, too. Jungkook keeps warning you about burnouts — doing a thousand things at once, you’ve been thoroughly burdened.
But honestly. Maybe it was just hunger for a real meal.
“Oh? I'm so glad it helped then! And sure,” he responds. “Go ahead, there’s enough for like four people.”
You blink. “And you?” He shakes his head, patting his full tummy, attempting another try at drinking. You argue, “I’m not eating alone, though!”
“Angel, I’ve had like two portions. I'll be full until next dinner.”
“Lame!” You shift on the couch, half of your ass holding you onto it, “And if we found ways to burn it off?”
“…Ah?”
“I mean… You like working out. So just work me out.”
“Shut up. You’re impossible.”
You’ve long given up — you’re not an ass. You would never force him to eat or not to eat, unless he hasn’t in hours. But you also need a foolproof way of amusing him.
Which, despite his very unimpressed expression, you know you did. His lips still twitch.
Sombre, his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek before he shakes his head. You pat his strong thighs, standing from the couch with a hungry groan.
“Fine. I’ll go heat up some for myself then,” you announce, but Jungkook’s shrill alarm bells ring immediately, his body jumping off his seat.
“Not the microwave.”
“Jungkook—”
“Not! The microwave. Just toss it in the pan and heat it up there.”
You tiptoe to the kitchen just a little faster, playful as he hurries after you. You spend your seconds explaining why the microwave won’t explode; how tickling you won’t change anything; how you’ll break something if he doesn’t stop.
But most of all, you spend your seconds allowing him to chase away all sorrows you carried for so goddamn long.
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Shut up. You’re impossible.
His prior agitation truly wasn’t one at all.
Because despite your obvious jests, the calories lost on the couch rob you of all sanity at last. A hand in your hair, a body pushing yours down, free fingers roaming your sides and your legs, and lips never separating from yours.
He doesn’t strip you off a single piece of clothing. Doesn’t dig a hand underneath your shirt, focused on how your mouth feels, how his name rolling off your tongue sounds.
The eyes he stares into are vivid and bright, and he uses up all his power to not let them kill him. Your body wraps around his like the most tender of all embraces; he doesn’t need you bare for it, no matter how blank the thought leaves his mind.
Only needs the proximity. The tongue touching his, the nails testing his shirt’s quality.
You miss most of the movie that he suggested, eating each other up, a fist around the hem of his shirt until he nearly falls off the couch and wakes you from your dream. You giggle and joke, spending the second half of the film yawning, sipping the peppermint tea. 
Jungkook uses the quiet time for whispered conversations; massages your feet as you pleaded for, repeatedly asking for your comfort.
The moments aren’t anything big, in theory. You’re not in a fantasy novel, not throwing a ring into a volcano. You’re mortal and here, surrounded by humane domesticity and drowning in casual conversations.
Yet — even though you’re not living through spectacular adventures, you’re breathing through special moments nevertheless. Because not a single second spent with him feels mundane, after all.
Sometime as the ending nears, you let your legs fall, pulled close to Jungkook by your hip. You don’t quite understand when or how he does it, but miraculously, you land half on his lap, ass barely on the couch and cheek pressed to his temple.
Jungkook pushes a hand against your thigh, heaving you up further and moving you until you’re comfortable. There’s a light groan, followed by a feathery kiss to your jaw; and you wrap an arm around his shoulder to hold on, shifting even closer.
Your touchy warmth isn’t new to Jungkook; but it seems that the changes in your lives made your inhibitions disperse. Like you broke the bars trapping you so far.
Because the increasing clinginess feels carefree; you don’t overthink your movements tonight. Even before, there was lightness in your interactions; how you’d breathe in his presence, compared to when the world intruded.
The difference was still never quite veiled.
He saw it when he called from so far away all those weeks ago, staring at the distress in your face through a device — versus when he returned to your world.
Or just recently, when you stood on that tiny stage, talking down to reporters — as opposed to when you whispered for him to get you home.
Your shoulders always dropped in relief the moment you stood in his soothing radius. And yet—
There was quiet discomfort in your eyes. And today — today he doesn’t see that usual steam frying your brain. Your smile isn’t burdened; you’re weightless, like you’re breathing.
Overwhelmed and endeared, Jungkook gulps. The pricking needle rods his heart, simultaneously flicking the wounds. He could cry.
He watches you busy your fingers with his shirt, unable to put his thoughts into a coherent string of sentences; so he only says, “You’re so cosy today.”
“Hm? I’m always cosy.”
“Mmmh… a bit more tonight.”
Your forefinger traces the outline of his pecs over his shirt, and you nod with a hum before you declare, “That’s because I’m trying to establish a healthy balance.”
“A healthy balance? How so?”
“I need to be nice, because you’re not.”
His eyes follow your finger’s slow movements, so his voice is soft, barely concerned. But his brain can’t quite compute as he asks, “I’m not nice?”
“You’ve always been mean, actually.”
He laughs. Taps your thigh rhythmically, close to your butt. “How am I mean to you?”
“Like,” you press your palm flat in the middle of his chest, looking at him. There’s a crease between your eyebrows, the slightest hint of a pout on your lips. “You ass could’ve answered when I came home. You didn’t say anything! Or did you really not hear me?”
Oh.
Ogling into your anticipating, subtly piqued eyes, he suppresses a laugh. His lips form a thin line, but the glow in his dark eyes betrays him. Your hand lifts a little, ready to spank his pecs, but you close the gap again as you grant him another chance.
“Hey, if you tell me you didn’t hear, I’ll let it slide.”
You’re well aware Jungkook graduated as the best of his year in Teasing You, and holds the degree proudly to your face every day — but you also know he’s honest.
So you’re not surprised when he admits, eyes mischievous, “I heard you.” Your slow blinking, the scolding gaze are hilarious to him; he looks unspeakably pleased. “I wanted to see what you’d do.”
Now you do slap his tits.
“And you didn’t expect me to say that shit?!” you reprimand. He wraps his arms around you, his laughter a deep, genuine emergence from his chest. “I’m an idiot, in case you didn’t know.”
“Of course. I do know,” he suddenly deadpans. Wow. That couldn’t have come any more naturally. “I know you well, baby.”
“And yet…”
He waves your concerns off, hand soon returning to your back to pull you closer. “She’s chill. I knew you were gonna amuse her right away.”
“Oh god. You planned this… Wait. You didn’t shush her when you heard the door open, right?”
He doesn’t answer. Just keeps looking at you. And then… is he…
Is he zoning out?
“Jungkook,” you call again.
“Hm?” He stares at you beguiled, as if utterly distracted by whatever. “Sorry. Can’t hear you—”
“You so can. We’re alone and I’m speaking loud and cl—”
“Nah, you’re just so pretty. I can barely focus.”
“I hate you.”
But you don’t.
He doesn’t need to spell his intentions out for you to understand. He might be testing your patience, but there’s a hidden meaning in his words that he can’t hide as well as he intends to after all.
Because you know he just wanted you to be yourself instead of playing a different role; just like he has never pretended in front of your parents. He knows you’d try extra hard for him — but he needed you to come in and receive affection as the person that you already are.
Guess whatever you blurted was the first impression he wanted to leave of you.
“So,” you start after a moment, back to tapping his chest, “do you think I did amuse her?”
“Oh, she loved it.” Of course she did. You could see the Jeon-esque endearment in her eyes the moment you stepped into the living room. Humbles you. “She’s gonna adore you, too.”
“Ah. Like you adore me.”
Jungkook’s response arrives in the form of a long, semi-damp kiss, delivered to the corner of your mouth. You grimace, torso moving backwards at his gentle force. He adds another Mmmhhh to the gesture until you’re nearly falling off his lap, pushing him away again with a giggly, “Stop!”
He leans back with a content sigh, eliminating more of the distance between you until his head almost rests against your chest. But when you speak again, he looks up into your face.
“Hey. Your mom was saying something as she was leaving. What was it again?”
“Uhh…”
His pupils roll up in thought, one shoulder already rising to shrug, but then it drops again before he voices, “Oh… Yeah…” A break in thought; then, “I figured you’d be busy with everything going on, so I was being reluctant about asking. Didn’t wanna put you in a difficult position.”
You wait. He speaks on, “But my cousin’s getting married next month, and I’m invited.”
There’s a beat of a pause, and you anticipate, already sensing a presentiment before he spits it out—
“And you are, too.”
Hold on.
Weddings. More often than not, weddings happen in big places, filled with a great number of guests. Of friends. And… of family members.
If what he’s suggesting isn’t a hallucination, it means that’d be how you’d step into the battlefield. Attempting your best to be yourself, to charm his family with whatever strategy.
Is he thinking of the same thing?
Because you’re speechless.
You close the mouth you only now notice stood agape, trying not to show the bubbling exhilaration too blatantly. That’d be your first joyful event together.
Oh god.
You might squeal; faint of nervousness. If you could, you’d press your fists to your lips and stomp your feet and twirl your hair and—
“Wait… You want me to go to a wedding with you?” you finally ask instead, keeping your voice in a normal pitch.
“Only if you feel like it.”
“And… and you?” you inquire, wide eyes looking into his wider ones. He’s nervous, too. “Do you want me to?”
“I… yeah. I do. I really, really don’t want to go without you, actually.”
Shit.
“Where is the wedding?”
“Yeah, see, that’s why I was afraid to ask. You’re so busy and your job’s so new. But we’d—” He hesitates, as if scared of rejection. Clicks his tongue, evaluating his words. “The thing is that we’d have to drive all the way down. It’s back at home.”
You need a moment. Back at home; you’re home. Meaning, it’s not here.
Meaning, it’s in his hometown. Meaning, you wouldn’t just meet his family, but walk through a place of memories and deeply rooted, nostalgic affection, too.
Which is… such a huge fucking thing.
Especially for a girlfriend.
Eun always says it doesn’t do bringing a girlfriend or boyfriend to big events such as birthday parties or weddings. It’s disadvantageous for the pictures, she claims. Who knows how the future might play out?
But Jungkook isn’t concerned with these issues. Jungkook wants you all the way down there, lurking on streets with him that he grew up on; tripped on; played on.
These are places with core remembrances. So easily expanded when more are added to them in later years; and so easily shattered when hearts break.
But a heart breaking is not an option, is it? Not anymore.
“You’re… taking me to your hometown?” you ask. You immediately realise the choice of words, and don’t hesitate as you add, “I mean. You’d be taking me home. You’d like to—”
“Is that—” he interrupts, suddenly unsure, “bad? Did it change your mind? You don’t have to, I promise.”
“No. I actually might cry.”
His expression momentarily softens, a big, clear Awwwh written in it. Gentle fingers brush your hair back, observing the vulnerability in your eyes. But shit, you mean it.
You could cry.
Because you talked about this so long ago.
Back when he was miles away, yet so deeply settled in your heart. Sneaking his way into your head, eating you up inside. When he broke off a piece of you and took it with him as he left, no relief for weeks on end.
And when he came back, he promised he’d take you with him one day.
Is that it? Is that now?
“Fuck,” you curse under a quiet laugh, confused by the burning in your eyes.
Jungkook’s hand brushes over your cheek, eyebrows slightly cocked. He might not have expected you to react with such… emotion. You hadn’t either.
“Hey,” his voice soothes, “don’t cry. It’ll be good. And if it’s not, or if you don’t want to, we can just stay here and never go again.”
You’re gonna sob. How did you deserve him?
Of course you want to go. Of course you’d make the best of it. No fibre in you wants to reject his offer.
In fact, you’re already daydreaming. Because…
How’s it gonna be? Will you see more stars there? Will his family like you? His Dad like you? And what are weddings with boyfriends like? Will you be seeing him in every flower in the hall, in every kiss the couple shares?
“No,” you say, “I’ll go. I will go because you’re too obsessed with me to leave without me.”
Jungkook chuckles immediately, but not speaking before rolling his eyes, “And you’re a brat.”
You wait a moment, smiling in unison with him, and then ask, “Honestly, I… I’d love to. Can I just still ask…” You’re curious; but you also want to keep feeling that warmth. More tranquillity from his words. “Why would you not go without me?”
He doesn’t stall.
“Because it’s such a big event, and… so far away. I don’t want to leave you here. And the thought of being at the most lovey-dovey place without my favourite person sucks.”
You’ll freaking screech.
“Jungkook!”
Half of the name is muffled when your lips drop to the crook of his neck, back uncomfortably arching and face heating up. Your ass threatens to fall back on the couch, legs still over his, and he hugs you close as he snickers again.
He shakes your body gently, trying to lift your face. Calling your name when your breath tickles his skin, asking, “Are we embarrassed?”
“No.”
But when you look at him again, your smile is wide enough to freeze your muscles in place. He shakes his head, flooded with aching joy, and makes sure again, “So you want to go, yeah? Don’t need time to think or something? It’s okay if you do.”
“As if. I really wanna go. I’m gonna make this,” you touch his collarbones, then your own, “work.”
He smiles. Grants you a short break to organise your thoughts. And while what you query next shouldn’t come as a surprise, it does introduce a delighted shift in mood.
“What am I gonna wear?”
Jungkook puffs out a breath.
You don’t notice; your focus drifts, directed to the carpet. You mentally scurry your closet, quietly trying to recall appropriate attire for weddings. Which is odd, because you should have the entire catalogue of your and every other place cemented in your mind.
“What do I wear?” you repeat, back to looking at him, barely allowing him a moment to think. “And don’t say anything would look good on me. Serious answers only.”
“You know a question like this prompts nothing but unserious answers from m—”
“Kook—”
“Okay. I mean, you have such pretty dresses. Lemme just choose one and we’re supplied.”
It’s an easy idea; fair enough. Only, you’re barely listening, earning a side-eye from Jungkook when you say, “I should buy a new one.”
Which still doesn’t deter him, though. “Cool. I’ll go with you then.”
“Or will I seem overdressed?”
“It’s a wedding, baby. Overdress like hell.”
“And… if I’m underdressed?”
“You’re still gonna be the hottest around!” he exclaims, and you flinch just a little. He’s not truly agitated, but there’s playful frustration in his voice, a grin around his lips. “Don’t worry about the dress, okay? It won’t stay on you anyway.”
Jungkook expects you to react with similar scolding, using it to hide how timidly flattered you actually are. But you’re too fired up, restless in his grip as your voice grows shriller, “I’m so. Fuck, I’m so excited!”
“I am, too. But…”
His palm moves up and down your back, one eye squinting shut as you start swaying a bit, pumped with serotonin. Like a thrilled child. You’re so…
He lowers his gaze; you might just see the heart eyes otherwise.
“Okay, hey,” he tries again, calming you as his fingers grasp your wrist. “Should we go to bed for now, though?”
You wait with your answer, relaxing your body. Stopping your elevated sounds, you draw the deepest breath in history, and then breathe out a whispery, “Yeah.”
“Yeah. Good. Oh.”
“Hm?”
“You haven’t actually been to the bedroom yet, right?”
“Oh…”
True. Since you came home, you only conversed with his mother, then rushed to take a shower as she left, still filled with prickling and nervous emotions. And then you hurried back to him, starving, eating, watching TV.
And now you’re here.
Was something different about the bedroom, though? You don’t think so.
“You’re right,” you tell him, “no, not really. Just to shower. Why?”
“Just…”
“…What?”
“Okay. Hold onto me.”
“Hold ont— oh, f—”
You gasp for air when two strong arms replace his soft hands, settling under your kneepits and around your back. He shifts dangerously on the couch, moving forward before he starts to lift with a self-motivating grunt.
“And— off we go.”
You sling your arms around his neck immediately, hiding, letting out a panicked, ”Be careful, I’m sli—”
“All good. Relax.” His arms wrap more properly around your limbs, and you dare to listen. Allowing your legs to dangle, you let him carry you calmly, breathing air through O-shaped lips. “Good girl. I won't just let you fall.”
“You better not.”
“No. Just wait.”
He looks at you with a comical grin, throwing a kiss into the air and down to you. Using your feet to kick the door open, he halts at the threshold; for a second, he looks… up.
And just when he finally enters the room, you quietly follow his gaze. The question as to what to wait for gets stuck in your throat when you realise what it is he needed you to see.
Holy shit.
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the chapter isn't over yet – much to go!! tumblr just doesn't allow more than 1k blocks/paragraphs. apologies for the scrolling, but i promise it's worth it :'D here's the rest! <3
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pin-k-ink · 7 months ago
Text
hello kitty panties // gojo satoru
tw ⇢ implied age gap, teacher-student relationship, highly suggestive
wc ⇢ 755 words
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Gojo blamed the intense heat for making him see things. Or maybe it was his sexual frustration finally catching up to him because he swore he saw your plump butt, barely covered by Hello Kitty panties, hanging over the first-floor window. He knew it was you immediately, mostly because you were the only student who was stupid enough to try and climb out of the first-floor window, and partially because you were also notorious for collecting Hello Kitty merch. Apparently, the merch didn't just stop at small knick-knacks and plushies, judging by your underwear.
Your small feet kicked at the wall, one knee still perched on the windowsill, your entire torso still inside the building. Gojo contemplated whether he should just ignore you and go about his day because if it were any other student, it'd be a pretty uncomfortable encounter. But this was you, the baby of his class – cute and naive but an absolute menace in combat, a combination he adored wholeheartedly.
He stood there on the ground for a while, staring at your ass. Not to be a creep, but damn, you had a great ass. It was all plump and perky, accentuated by the fattest, juiciest thighs he'd ever seen. More often than not, he'd wonder what it would feel like to be crushed by them. He wasn't the only one. He once saw Yuji get a nosebleed after getting headlocked by your thighs. The moment your thighs circled around his head and trapped him, he had given up instantly and went limp. It was amusing, to say the least, but Gojo couldn't blame him. He had a rule not to lust after his students; perhaps you could be the only exception.
He let out a sharp whistle and watched, amused, as your body tensed. "What're you doing up there?" he teased with a small smirk, his eyes roaming over your exposed skin.
You fumbled to get inside quickly, but you lost your footing on the windowsill. Gojo's heart nearly stopped as he watched you fall, your stomach colliding painfully with the side of the window. Without thinking, he rushed forward, his arms outstretched to catch you.
You landed in his arms with a soft thud, and Gojo couldn't help but notice how perfectly you fit against his body. He held you close for a moment, relishing the feeling of your warmth, before gently setting you down.
You hunched over, clutching your stomach as small tears sprung to the corners of your eyes. Gojo felt a pang of concern, but he kept his hands in his pockets, waiting for you to acknowledge him.
After a while, you slowly looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. Gojo felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of your flushed cheeks and parted lips.
"Sensei... I, uh... thank you for catching me," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.
Gojo chuckled, trying to ignore the way his heart raced at the sound of your voice. "You know, if you wanted to sneak out, you could've just used the door. But I guess that wouldn't have been as entertaining, would it?" he teased, his signature smirk still plastered on his face.
You pouted, averting your eyes. "I wasn't sneaking out! I was just... getting some fresh air."
"Fresh air, huh? In your Hello Kitty underwear?" Gojo couldn't resist teasing you further, enjoying the way you squirmed under his gaze.
"Shut up! It's laundry day, okay?" you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.
Gojo's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Well, next time you decide to get some 'fresh air,' make sure you've got a spotter. Wouldn't want you to fall and hurt yourself."
You rolled your eyes, but Gojo could see the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, yeah. I'll keep that in mind."
As you turned to walk away, Gojo let his gaze linger on your retreating form, admiring the way your curves moved with each step. He knew he shouldn't be thinking about you in that way, but damn, it was getting harder and harder to resist.
With a sigh, he shook his head and turned to head back inside, silently promising himself that he'd keep his less-than-pure thoughts in check. After all, you were his student, and he had a responsibility to maintain a professional relationship.
But deep down, he knew that promise was going to be a difficult one to keep, especially with you constantly testing his self-control, whether you realized it or not.
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iamespecter · 17 days ago
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Ziku, do you have any advice for the color technique? I really like how you apply shadows and lights.
My advice? start with grayscales.
using grayscales helps you distinguish the proper lighting without having to worry about the colors. It's also why I'm able to do the 1-hour pomnis: I could place the colors after I'm done with the lighting placement.
my process is this:
I first start off using airbrush, softly shading areas that don't get hit with light often.
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I then proceed to roughly put of where should light hit with a light shade of gray, and how it affects the surrounding area with darker greys. The closer a solid object is to another, the harder the edges of the shadows are. I embrace the imperfection of my strokes, and do not perfect them at this stage since it would be a waste of time.
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fun fact: you can make hard edges look more defined by placing a very light shade of gray. This is how I achieve the illusion of lighting hitting something on my art :)
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once I'm done with the values, I move to coloring. I keep the strokes as loose as I did the lighting placements, because again. Imperfections HELPS. Glossy things like eyes, teeth and the apple are colored a bit darker, to make the shine pop later.
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Apply a multiply layer above the colors between 15-30% depending (for this piece it's set to 26%), it's up to you if you want the multiply layer to be cooler colors, or warmer. I chose a saturated orange coloring for mine.
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now this is my favorite part: glow dodge. Set to 100% and above every other layer except lineart, light dap it around using an airbrush where the light hits the most.
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This part is mostly optional, since this is where I "clean up" the lineart by locking the layer, then color dropping the edges to "erase" most of the lines.
you don't have to do this, it's just easier for me for the rendering stage since it won't get in the way.
You can also go ahead and combine every layer (grayscales + colors + lineart and etc.) afterwards. This one is important.
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all that's left to do now... is to render your painting.
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and you render,
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and you fucking trust the process even though Pomni looks like a stoned as fuck vampire with a receding hairline,
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and you render. (and add more glow dodge for the glossy objects)
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When I finish a painting, I actually apply a difference layer above it all to give it some flare,
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to which after that I'll do a render noise, chromatic aberration, tone curve and posterization for final touches.
That is all :)
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