#sorry this scene just speaks volumes to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoseoksluna · 5 months

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VAPOR, pt II. | jjk ft. myg

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x steam!oc

genre: smut, a great dose of angst

word count: 11.9k

summary: hard times ask for extra care and like the healer he is, jungkook doesn't fail to give you his absolute best.

pinterest board: vapor | playlist: vapor

warnings: heartbreak, lots of tears, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), praise kink, sucking fingers, female masturbation, fingering, oc is extremely wet and jk is rly rly hard for her <3, squirting, multiple orgasms, jk tells her off kinda and it's hot, pet names, raw and rough sex, the abandonment issues are heavy in one part, mention of a sex toy

note: hi, my loves. this was absolutely painful to write, but i know i made a good decision. unfortunately for those who are waiting for the next series—i'm sorry, but this will have another part. it's already so long and if i kept going, it'd have probably like 20k plus words and i don't want to take up your time. i think i can manage to post the last part THIS week, so look forward to this. one part of the happy ending done. <3 i love you, guys, i hope you like this. don't hesitate to let me know; i worked hard and i want validation skfjslkfjsklfs. enjoy, my loves. <3

A dead man for the fifth time, Jungkook finds the unfolding of the events quite ridiculous now. And he’s not surprised, how could he really be at this point, that there’s radio silence within the chambers of his heart.

The food court is muted, the lights are ever still bright, but the corners of his eyes gain peculiar shadows that cling to the side of your face as you swirl your spoon in your hot soup. His phone is ringing and its obnoxious sound is but a vibration in his hand and the only thing that’s delaying him from sliding his thumb across his device is some sort of consent in your solemn, yet saddened features. He can see translucent threads lining your rounded lips that have sown your mouth shut, preventing you from speaking out your tender heart and it’s predominantly this thing, among the obvious other ones, that drives him to make a scene in front of all of these people crowded around him.

If he has to, he will rip those wisps. Make it as painless as possible because whether he likes it or not, he needs you right now. Needs your word of advice, needs your consent in order to do what the entirety of his organs yearns to do. And if you say no, he’ll willingly turn his phone off and refuse to speak to his once-closest friend.

Just for the sake of your mental health. Just to outrun fate and grasp her wrist to stop her from furthermore scarring your heart.

You have enough of them and he has only one pair of lips to heal them.

Lifting the spoon to your mouth, you keep your gaze on its silver coat and it unnerves him—the fact you won’t look at him, the fact that you so evidently don’t want to be in this situation. Your own boyfriend is chasing you around town, even though he transmitted waves of nothingness your way when he had you under his roof. He doesn’t fucking understand it. Doesn’t understand how he’s capable of doing such a thing and fury rises in his gut, soars high to his throat, which constricts around it so tightly that it forbids him from inhaling any oxygen into his lungs. And he fears that if he speaks, it’ll soak you. Make you even smaller than you are and he’ll hate himself for the rest of his life for it.

However…

He needs to talk to you. Time is pressing down on his shoulders once again and here and now, he’s too burdened, too fragile to bear it. His stoicism has long been fractured, its shards cracking cacophonously under the soles of his sneakers and… the singular tear rooting on his pale cheek hasn’t even dried up.

“Tell me what to do, sweetheart,” Jungkook says, his voice a soft, deep murmur; a plea. His surroundings gain volume, little by little, the lack of air in his lungs causing his mind to spin. His body grows cold and, unwittingly, he bounces his leg underneath the table. “If you don’t want me to pick up this call, I won’t. It’s your decision.”

He knows that whatever it is that will come out of your mouth and change the trajectory of his fury, he’ll protect you nonetheless. No matter what, no matter what it takes. He’ll unleash what’s been swarming in him for a long time in private sometime later if you ask for it—he’ll gladly tell his organs no and they’ll have to listen. That’s certainly not an issue.

What will be an issue is if you remain quiet. He doesn’t know what will happen to him under that circumstance. He has very little trust in something that’s out of his grasp and he has strong disliking for the looseness of it all. Doesn’t feel right.

A quick, soft slurp of your soup. A lift of your weary eyes. A kick in his heart. “I don’t want to make any decision. If you want to pick up the call, you should. I don’t mind. If you don’t, that’s fine, too.”

He must be dead because he’s staring at his own reincarnation.

You’ve walked so far on your pathway of suffering that you reached the point that you don’t care anymore. Don’t care that there’s a risk Yoongi will see you or hear you. Don’t care about what’s going to happen when he does and about the events after. It’s as admirable as it is disturbing and a faint pulse begins to sound in his chest. Thrill nips at his skin; a sense of responsibility uncoiling within, linking to the surety of his instinct to protect you. To stand up for you. To make things right in a way, way different manner than he’s ever tried before and it’s those inclinations that drive his thumb to swipe across the screen.

Though he doesn’t look at Yoongi. No, he looks at you, studying your features. It’s not that he doesn’t trust your words, he does and vehemently so, but this is a difficult situation that you’re both in and it would be only understandable if the gravity of it washed over you all of a sudden and you weren’t comfortable with this anymore. He wouldn’t hesitate to end the call right away. Fuck what Yoongi thinks.

But nothing changes about your weariness. It’s a still pool of water, unmoving and utterly impenetrable, like the pond behind his cabin during cold, winter times. When this is over, he promises to get warm and dip his fingers in, permeate your skin with rosiness and coziness. Stall the change of seasons unfurling in you.

And Jungkook pleats that promise into the palm of your hand as he takes it, his thumb against your head line. Watches you stuff your mouth full with noodles. His own stomach churns, the fury half parting, making a way for his hunger to suffuse his senses. He’s so happy you’re eating that all he can think about is how he’s going to make your life better with this one singular video call.

He leaves you to it and focuses his gaze down on Yoongi. His once-close friend is driving in his car and despite the shit view he has of him, due to his service and the way Yoongi’s phone is angled, he can still see the way he’s swathed by murkiness. The purple marks under his eyes are a stark contrast to the pallidness of his skin and his hair is a mess, tufts of black strands sticking in different directions as if he had been on the verge of ripping his hair out. He has one hand on the steering wheel, while the other runs over his upper lip. Over and over, back and forth, waiting, patiently, for Jungkook’s attention.

He starts speaking once he knows he has it.

“Sorry to bother you, I didn’t know who else to call.” He sighs and explains that he’s calling because of you, the mention of your name causing his voice to crack. “I drove up to her apartment, but she’s not there. She told me she was going to her place when she… when she… left.”

So he heard you loud and clear, and yet he didn’t have the decency to respond to you, make you know that you were heard. Jungkook looks at you and this time you look back at him, too. A tight, painful exchange of glances. He squeezes your hand, even as Yoongi continues.

“She’s not picking up the phone. I’m worried about her—”

Jungkook is swift with his words. “You should’ve thought of that before you let her leave,” he snaps, his whole body tense, hanging yet again by the thread. He keeps his hold over your hand gentle, despite it all—despite the fact that his form yearns to explode. “You’re too reckless. Leave her alone.”

Your eyes widen while Yoongi’s narrow, but he doesn’t regret what he said. He knows there’s utmost truth in them, something that should scramble his brain until he comprehends it. Yoongi’s mouth purses in a tight line and his fist clenches before he places it on the steering wheel with a thud.

“Don’t talk to me like this. I don’t need this,” Yoongi mutters, pulling out his hyung card and while it angers Jungkook even more, he also thinks that’s the biggest load of bullshit that has ever come out of his mouth. “I need to know where she is.”

He gazes intently at you as he says, “It’s none of your business.”

And those big eyes of yours round in a good emotion that he can’t really recognize and slowly, you swallow down your noodles. Speechless, he deduces. A tendril of adrenaline courses in him, strengthening his responsibility and protectiveness over you, kissing it ever so sweetly when you squeeze his hand.

A validation.

Jungkook could stay like this. He wouldn’t mind at all—it feels too nice. Feels like you’re his. And perhaps at this very moment you are.

The feeling is so overwhelming that he doesn’t give two shits about the fact Yoongi is detonating on the other side of the screen. He keeps his eyes on you.

“What the fuck do you mean it’s none of my business? Is she with you?”

It’s at this moment that a proud smile curls Jungkook’s lips. And it’s joy that absorbs his organs, his heart beating loudly and clearly. Even the people around him seem happier in his peripheral vision. He thinks this night tops in the best days he’s ever had.

Tension has grabbed a hold of you, too. But he will make it better. He’s got you.

He continues with the truth and he’s not afraid of it. Not at all.

“Yes, she’s safe with me.”

Those words, most peculiarly, soothe Yoongi’s rage. Silence fills his car, one that forces Jungkook to flick his eyes to his phone because he truly can’t believe what’s happening. Yoongi runs his hand down his face and nods once, the murkiness loosening a fair bit before it pulps him. It’s now that he becomes small. A tiny boy, at the hands of his own repercussions. Displeased, but relieved. A strange, strange sight.

“Good,” Yoongi says and Jungkook’s stomach drops. “She should be with you. You’re better than me in ways I could never be. She doesn’t need me anymore.”

Your mouth parts and a vexation of your own clutches you. Enough for you to drop your spoon and lift your hand, palm up. The adrenaline in Jungkook’s system thickens. “Give me the phone.”

Yoongi's head turns to the screen at the sound of your irritated voice and Jungkook’s smile widens, handing you the device. He knows what you’re about to say will put an end to this difficult situation and he’s eager to hear it, eager for it to happen.

“Careful, don’t make him crash his car,” Jungkook whispers, ever so smug, just for your ears, but on the other hand, he doesn’t care if it finds a way to your boyfriend’s as well. You gaze at him most solemnly, fleetingly, and he can’t read shit in your expression. He’s not troubled by it, however; he wants you to let loose in whatever form of your choosing, of your liking. You deserve it, to be boundless like that. It’s been a long time coming.

His phone in your hand is too large and he finds it so cute that it helps him relax. Without withdrawing his hand, he hunches over his soup, getting his utensils ready.

And his first taste of his meal is as good as the first words you hurl at Yoongi.

“Are you joking right now? Is that all you have to say after everything? You’re actually unbelievable,” you spit, shooting daggers at the screen, your brows furrowed, a lethal glare directed at him. Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but he hears him sigh. “I’d like you to know that it’s my decision that I’m with him. Not yours. You’re not in control of it and you never will be again. I’m with him because I want to be with him, not because you let me be with him or because you think it’s good.”

Your voice rises in volume ever so slightly, respectful of your surroundings, but untethering your heart free nonetheless. A tortured pain coats it, despite the fact you’re holding yourself strong and it drives Jungkook to let go of his spoon, unable to eat when he feels your agony in all its raw immensity. You struck his awe and all he can do is watch you make order of your life. For your sake and also, most remarkably, for his. A beautiful, beautiful sight.

Love unable to be real turning away, slowly, from the dead end.

“So, we’re over?” Yoongi asks, small—small voice. Jungkook has never heard it before and butterflies zap his stomach with the strongest electricity they could come across.

Your face doesn’t change and you don’t hesitate to unleash your next words. “I think you should go see other people and heal from this mess. You’ve grown too attached to your own fucked up impressions and you need a reality check.”

Such coldness, such brutality. Jungkook can’t breathe—finds it hard to believe this is happening right now, that angels are by his side, keeping his bloodstream flowing. He feels as though he’s dreaming again due to the speck of vagueness in your answer. Yes, you’ve told him to go see other people, but he’s also aware that Yoongi needs the raw truth on a silver platter. If there’s anything he hates with all his being, it’s the abyss of obscurities. It’s the space in his brain for him to make up for the emptiness of your words.

Jungkook intertwines his fingers with yours, his thumb fondling the crook between your thumb and your forefinger, giving you the little strength he possesses in him—the last of it, all he has.

Are you breaking up with him or are you taking a break?

Jungkook longs to know, perhaps he needs it, too, even though both options are more than merciful for such a wretched dreamer like him. A dreamer that has stumbled upon gold in a poor, poor world.

“Honey, please.” Yoongi breaks into sobs and it’s now, now as Jungkook hears the sound of a raw emotion from such a detached person that he softens, his fury snuffed out in a blink of an eye, and he can’t feel his arms, nor his legs. He realizes, most strangely, that it’s his friend, one he spent the last ten years of his life with. The aftertaste of copper pools in his mouth again and his own eyes wet. Yours, too, your chin quivering the more you take in his devastated state. “I can’t do this without you. I–I don’t know how to.”

Despite your tenderness, your words remain firm. “I think you’ve managed quite well these past few days. You’ve pushed me away, needed space. So go have it. I won’t suffer through it, though. I’ll do what I want, you should, too. You need to heal in the only way you know how. Alone.”

Yoongi sniffles, taking long breaths to seemingly calm his shuddering lungs. And pity enfolds his heart, pity for his friend that he’s become such a wreck and that he’s a witness to it, more than the cause behind it. He puts the latter to the side, now is not the right time for it.

He knows what will happen to him once he breaks the dam of self-blame. It’s not what you need right now and he will make sure to keep that dam of your own safe and stable. It’s his duty.

“Will you wait for me?” Yoongi asks and Jungkook feels that question curl around his gut. With a light layer of sadness, he returns to his food, his stomach grumbling.

You sigh, swiping your fingers under the skin beneath your lower lashes, perhaps so Yoongi doesn’t see your weakness. Jungkook watches you as he slurps on his noodles, nervous—terribly, terribly nervous.

“I don’t know if I’m able to trust you like that again,” you conclude, taking a big breath and Jungkook chokes on his food, coughing so hard that you untangle your hand from his and slap his back. “Gotta go. I’ll call you later.” You end the phone call and gently lay down his phone, rubbing his back soothingly as Jungkook splutters. “Are you okay? What happened?”

What happened? You gave him life. Made a pathway for his dreams to come true. Gave him a leeway to walk upon this earth with no weight on his shoulders. Turned something inaccessible accessible.

Love unreal becomes real, running headlong in the opposite direction of the dead end.

The last of his aching coughs emit out of his throat and he swallows, lungs heaving with freedom and easy, easy breaths. The air is different, the oxygen much sweeter. You put his tall glass of water into his hand, encouraging him to drink, never letting go of him as Jungkook takes a big sip, the cold liquid washing away all of those dark ashes left from the fire of his fury. His vision blurs once he looks at you in this new, shifted reality and there’s a smile to his face, calmness surging through his body, exhilaration most needed twining around it.

“You tell me,” Jungkook says, almost out of breath—out of his mind. “What just happened?”

You go back to your soup, squeeze your fried egg open with your chopsticks. “I’m not letting him hurt me again. I don’t have to be strong and take it, do I?” With the yolk spilling in, you push the entirety of the egg white into your mouth, huffing in delight, rolling your eyes back and chewing, cheeks puffed up like a little squirrel. His own utensils go slack in his hand, watching you enjoy your food, his heart enlarging. But then you furrow your brows and stop chewing. “Fuck, it’s cold, but it’s so good.” You sigh and resume chewing, your eyes flicking across the table, your body bouncing excitedly in your seat. You act as though you didn’t just break your own boyfriend’s heart—as if you led a normal conversation with him, in which he was just checking up with you. Jungkook’s awe is so struck that he can’t speak. Can’t eat. Can’t do anything but watch you with all that love abounding in his being for you. And then you flick your eyes to his and the wrinkle between your brows deepens. “Why aren’t you eating? Is it too cold?”

He calls your name, firmly. Leans back in his seat with a big sigh. Rubs his eyes with his fingers. “What just happened?”

There’s simply no way this is real.

You devour your noodles, swallowing spoonfuls of soup. “I ended things with him, Jungkook, and I’m not coming back to him.”

His mouth dries, heart picks up speed. How are you saying this with such ease? Isn’t your heart split in two? Your devotion clung to his guy with every breath you took and back at his cabin, you wouldn’t let him play with you unless Yoongi was present. How come it seems like you’re anything but heartbroken right now?

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks in all honesty, confounded by your behavior.

You push away your bowl, cradling your full belly. “Yes, I’m okay.”

He doesn’t really believe you. Losing your appetite was proof enough. “Positive?”

You look over to the side and your chin begins to quiver. There it is. Your hand flies to your face and you hide the rupture of your pretense behind it. The corners of your face, the only parts he gets to see, flush in red and Jungkook grabs your things with a heavy, sinking heart. Walks over to you and gives you his hand.

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

The weeping clouds have migrated not just to your eyes but to his, too. The night is deep and Jungkook feels it, ardently, coming to rest beneath his skin, floating on its back upon the stream of his tears that he’s stifling. He’s holding your hand and your purse as he’s leading you to his place. You didn’t want to see the face of your apartment. As a matter of fact, you couldn’t stand anything that reminded you of Yoongi and you begged him to take you somewhere you’ve never been before. Jungkook only nodded, brushing away the tears that managed to escape. Thought he’d bring you to any place you’d ever ask, just as long as you stuck with him.

He’s gained what he wanted for a long time, but at what cost? The two people he loves the most are broken. One, his dearest, he’s grasping tightly so she wouldn’t fly away. The other is becoming but a memory, ten years going down the drain—never to be seen again, never to be continued.

He has you, but he lost Yoongi. And the realization hangs, heftily, over his clavicles, swinging back and forth, kicking into his chest.

He can’t stand the sight of him either, however. How strange.

Once inside the warmth of his apartment, he can’t help but rid you of the hideous flannel of his that you’re wearing, bunching it up in his fists and throwing it away to the corner of his bench on the side of his wall without you knowing. With his hand on the small of your back, he guides you to his living room and he lets you skim your sight all around it, slipping his fingers under the hem of your tiny top, just touching you there. White walls, brown leather couch, a TV that takes up the most of the space alongside the kitchen with a plain dining area consisting of an old wooden, rectangular table with four chairs. A huge singular space of nothingness that has never felt home-like, not until you’ve stepped inside.

Now, all of a sudden, it has colors. Vibrant, yet soft-toned with each inhale of his breath. You bring your oxymorons everywhere you go and they stay where you reside, even if you move someplace else. The evidence of it is in his very body. While he feels at his most fragile, he also senses himself to be strong. Strong enough to take care of you right at this moment, be there for you and give you anything you’d ever want. And while his eyes are still wet, cheeks bedewed by his softness, he also wants to break this place—self-blame creeping in, threatening to emerge from the hidden spots somewhere within the battlefield of his chest.

This is his fault. Had he never said yes, you wouldn’t be in pain and neither would his friend be. But in that scenario, he wouldn’t know you existed. Wouldn’t have you. Would lead a forlorn life, with his paints and his alcohol.

You would be happy with Yoongi. Radiant, glowy. With your glitters, your little dresses. Your nighttime robes and your little lingerie.

Would you? Has he ruined your happiness? Has he ruined you?

Jungkook turns you around to him. He needs to ask you; he needs to have the certainty, otherwise he won’t sleep tonight. Won’t even close his eyes—the thoughts would eat away his drowsiness. Leave only wakefulness in their wake. Jungkook presses his lips against your forehead, lingering there, formulating his words, carefully. His hands clutch your shoulders. Your frail, slender shoulders.

Yoongi devastated your appetite enough that you lost all your soft fleshiness. He took it away and he doesn’t even perceive it. It was clear to him by the way you pushed your plate away, when your emotions rushed through; you didn’t have to say a word. And although he grieves the personal loss, still this is something he’ll never forgive him for.

“Would you have been happy if you never knew me?” he asks, subduedly, torment clawing at his vocal cords. “Would you have been happy with him?”

A teardrop spills down your cheekbone, plopping onto the material of your top, soaking it. You furrow your brows, seem angry at his choice of words and he regrets them, enough that his mouth rounds in a tender emotion that he’s too weak to stifle back. And then you bunch up his T-shirt, just like you did earlier in the dressing room, and there’s a tendril of relief that maybe he didn’t fuck up so majestically. He wants to weep; holding them back pains him too much and that ease, that repose is all he wants. It’s not that he’s shy or unwilling to let out his feelings—it’s just that he’s putting yours above his, deeming them more important. He wants to be strong for you, someone you can lean on—and how can he do that for you when he’s crumbling on the inside?

“How can you say that to me?” you ask in disbelief and Jungkook wants to rewind back the time. Wants to keep quiet and just hold you through this fateful night. He winces, looking away, his own chin quivering this time and he can’t—he can’t hold back. He possesses no strength. A tear trickles down his cheek, one full of agony, hot against his skin and he whimpers, he whimpers when you cradle his face in your hands, step on your tippy toes and press your lips against his. Your mouth is so warm and he’s shivering with cold; silky while his are ruined by the constant biting he did in the car. He is a ruination—how can you want him? He ruined your relationship. And now even his tears have stained your angelic, pure face.

“I feel like I’ve ruined everything,” he admits and his chest hurts, lungs tight, body trembling in that persisting cold. “I’ve ruined your relationship. I’ve ruined your life. Yoongi’s. Caused so much pain, so much trauma. Only because I let my friends convince me into going out when I came back from the military.”

The wrinkle between your brows smooths down and you pout, caressing his face. Jungkook can’t halt the rivulet of his liquid emotions. Not when he feels your love so awfully intensely, embracing him around and around, tightening, giving him a sense of safety.

“Can I tell you something?” You take his hand in yours and Jungkook already misses your warm touch on his face. He nods. “Where’s your room?”

He leads you there and you crawl onto his bed, patting the space beside you, curling on your side. He mirrors your position and you prop the side of your leg on his, intertwining your fingers with his on the bedding, moving his hand to your mouth.

And your words seep into his fist.

“We were together for five months and I never met his family. Never met his friends, except you. I never really thought about it in depth because he kept me busy, despite the fact all we did was fuck. It was enough for me, I guess, because I’d been alone for a long, long time before I met him. And I’m a bit of a loner myself so I didn’t mind that we spent all of our time in his apartment, fucking and watching movies. It wasn’t until I met you, Jungkook,” you pause, taking a big breath in, fondling his knuckles with your thumb, soothing him, soothing the drowsiness that is suddenly falling upon him like a blanket, waving off his tears, drying them. “That I realized it’s not really supposed to be like this in my life. I remember that night when he was out with you and I was in the bathroom. I thought about when was the last time he took me out and I shivered. I shivered, Jungkook. It was the first seed sown and I didn’t know. And when you came into my life, I spent my weekends out with you. You took me to your cabin, you took me out to dinner dates. Even today you took me to the mall. I realized it’s supposed to be like this. Yoongi never did that.”

Your words tingle across his fist and he’s quick with his own. “But were you happy?”

So are you. You don’t hesitate. “I thought I was, but the way I’m happy with you can’t compare to the way I thought I was happy with him.”

The truth wafts in the air, sweetening it and another onrush of tears come out of his tear ducts. He leans in closer to you, nose to nose, sniffling, sobbing quietly and you kiss his hand. Over and over, breathing against his skin. Light opens in him as the truth unfolds—with the little time he had with you, he managed to make you happier. Not just happy, but happier.

“I had a lot of time to think about this. It wasn’t just today that he didn’t speak to me. He barely did throughout the week, but today was the worst of it all and I couldn’t take it anymore. It hurt, it hurt so much,” you continue and Jungkook knows how much it pains you, when Yoongi abandons you over and over, clawing his fingernails in your scars. He’s glad, brims completely with that gratefulness that it also rolls down his cheeks, mingling with his tears, that you were strong enough to put a stop to it—as hard as it was. “And you know what I think? Yoongi needs someone like that. Someone who’s a much bigger loner than I am. Someone who’s okay with staying home, with keeping things casual. He needs a friend and I’ll continue being that for him, but not in the way he wants. I’ll be there for him, but not as closely as he was used to, you know? It has to be a process. I can’t just disappear out of his life. I don’t have the heart to do that.”

Extending his arm, Jungkook invites you to rest your head against his bicep—only because he yearns to touch you. Without untangling your intertwinement, you lay against him, breathing in his scent and Jungkook wraps the same arm around your shoulders, cocooning you in. Body to body, his lips against your forehead. You look up at him and he looks down at you, a profound exchange of glances. The reality shifts once more, the energy deepens, filling it with something beyond affection and love—fate thickening the air, intense, earnest and impassioned. And submitting to it, Jungkook raises your chin and kisses you, deeply, slipping his tongue inside just briefly. Kisses your cheek, your neck, your shoulder, hides himself in that crook, breathing with you and nothing else.

A brand new reality.

He can’t help but think about how smart you are. How admirable, how good. How well you handled everything, how well you made an order out of your life and ultimately out of Yoongi’s, too. Like Jungkook will take care of you, you will take care of Yoongi—not leaving him on his own with his shattered heart and mental health. He just hopes that sometime soon, he will be able to have a part in it, too. It’s his utmost wish. No matter how upset he was with him, how strongly he disliked him in certain moments, it’s still a person he loves, a person he spent the last ten years of his life with. A family, almost.

“Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?” Jungkook whispers, squeezing you against his body, drawing you closer until your lungs and his gain that singular synchronization. Your leg straddles his torso and he grows greedy, needing you even closer. Needing to get underneath your skin.

“I’ll try my best to make it happen,” you whisper back, running your fingers through his hair. The light that shines in your eyes faintly illuminates his shadowy room and it’s precisely the one he longed to see. Something tells him it’s here to stay and it drives his thumb to caress your wet lashes, the skin beneath your eyes, your rose-kissed cheek.

Jungkook trusts you. You’re such a badass that you will succeed in anything you set yourself out to do. And he tells you. Asks you if you want to take a bath. Thinks it will distract your heart from what it knows, from what it’s used to. Teach it something new—something you will connect only with him.

And your reaction enlarges his heart to the point that it breaks his ribcage. Your eyes widen, its light erupting, blinding him, and you gasp, lifting your whole body and grabbing his shirt in your fists. He chuckles in endearment.

“You have a bathtub?”

And your eyes almost fall out of their sockets at the sight of it once he carries you to his bathroom and sets you down. He kisses the back of your head, his hands on your hips, guiding you closer to the bathtub, reaching over to lift the tap and let hot water pour down. You both need it after such an emotionally-exhausting day and Jungkook is eager to get in with you.

“Stay here. Don’t strip. I’ll get your candle,” Jungkook says, lowly, squeezing your hips once and caressing your bum as he turns around and heads to the kitchen.

He wants to be the one who takes off your clothes. Plans to do something with you he hasn’t done in a long while, something he deems you deserve after everything you’ve been through. He grabs your mango-scented candle, your bag of cheese balls, a lighter and a chair and returns to you.

You’re crouching by the bathtub, your hand flowing in the hot water, its steam curling, tenderly, your hair cascading down your back. Jungkook pats the back of your head to announce that he’s come back and you smile up at him, your eyes big and twinkling, so magnificent that he grows weak in the knees, butterflies fluttering their wings in his stomach.

Lighting up your candle, you watch as he does it, each three knots flaring up to life and suffusing the air with a balmy, tropical scent. He sets it down on the chair and, helping you stand up to your feet, he doesn’t waste a second. His fingers hook under the hem of your top and fling it out. And because he knows you’ve never bared yourself like this before him, he hides your nakedness by pressing you against his chest, your soft breasts a pleasure, his digits sliding beneath your leggings and dragging them down your hips, looking over your shoulder. You shimmy out of them, moving your hips ever so delightfully and before he knows it, he’s on his knees—kissing the apex of your thighs as he takes your feet out of the pant legs. And he thinks he could stay here all his life.

Jungkook looks up at you as he removes your socks, kissing your knee without breaking the gaze, and he hopes that you can sense his love for you in it, the unyielding stability that he will cling to you with his body and soul—simply, with his entire being.

Rising slowly, he kisses his pathway up, leaving behind the translucent evidence of that love. Your mound, which makes you giggle, a celestial symphony to his ears, your full tummy where he hopes your invisible rose tattoos still are, both sides of your ribs, the middle of your breasts, your sternum, your collarbones, your throat, your chin—up and up until his lips find yours. And he devours them. With such vigor that you hum into his mouth, your hands reaching for his shirt again.

Oh, you want him to get in as well. Very well.

He wanted to be the witness to your relaxation, but if it’s your desire that he shares it with you—by all means. He lets you take off his shirt, lifting his arms for you, and you’re quick to allow your hands to discover the parts they don’t know. His mole beneath his left pec that he caught you staring at shortly after that turn of events at the cabin. You press your mouth against it, unravel your love for it there by grazing your teeth against it before you lick it over with your tongue, going as far as marking the spot right beside it. Jungkook sinks his fingers in your hair, reveling in it, tummy tingling, holding you like that as you do what you please. Your own digits descend to his pants, setting him free from them and when you get on your knees just like him, his cock tightens in your face.

And he dies, angels know for how many times today, when you rub your face in this intimate part of him, his heart bursting.

Not now—he can’t let you do that now. He wants your muscles to relax first before he can strain them all over again, in a much different way.

“My sweetie,” he starts, sighing, rubbing your scalp. He takes you by the back of your neck, sliding his hand underneath your armpit, and drags you up. A healthy, radiant flush adorns you and he’s glad for the paleness to be gone. Glad his body is the cause of it. It makes his heart happy. “Not now. Let’s get in the tub.”

Your stiffened nipples brush against his bare chest and he almost doubles over, loving the feeling of it. The sigh that leaves your mouth, so akin to his, too.

“But you’re hard,” you whisper, tugging down his boxers until his cock springs free and you immediately wrap your small hand around it, squeezing him lightly.

He can’t help but to grunt, the faint pleasure dizzying. He missed your hand, missed your touch. Haven’t had it in so long. It fits so well in your fist and he believes, in all seriousness, that it belongs to you. It’s yours.

He brushes his lips against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. His brain malfunctions a little bit, the pleasure you’re giving him zapping his dominance. “You like holding me like this?”

You fondle his tip with your thumb and he hisses, sparks of electricity coursing down his body and he hums at the aftershocks. So good. He feels his arousal drip for you; feels himself lengthening in your hand. You nod, watching it happen, and while it feels nice to be looked at like that, he wants your eyes on him. He cradles your face in one hand, making you look at him, and he pecks you. At the contact, you finally nod your head. Jungkook envelops his palm around your fist and guides you to squeeze him harder, groaning onto your mouth.

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises and embraces you, hiding himself in the crook of your neck again, inhaling you. Petrichor, mango, your personal scent. It’s all he wants to breathe in for the rest of his life. It’s what heaven must smell like. Actually, heaven must be what he’s hugging.

You whimper and for it Jungkook tightens his hold around you. Skin to skin. He’ll never get over it. “I love being good for you.”

He hums his approval, following the cascade of your hair down your back with his palm, rooting at your bum, grasping the flesh. “You’re the best girl. Let’s get you clean.”

The loss of contact aches and he can see it even on your face, an adorable pout forming on your mouth. Helping you get in the bathtub, you wait until he joins you and it’s only then that you sit down, unsure of how both of you are going to fit in such a small space like this. Knees in between his, you exchange a few giggles in the awkwardness of it all before Jungkook kisses them and leads you to lean back against him, your spine against his chest, your body getting lost in his.

Turning off the tap, the water is scorching but pleasant, his muscles relaxing, the very little remnants of the fight of his self-blame tearing apart at last. It must be as enjoyable for you because once you settle in and you take in the heat, the effect of the candle, the dimmed light and the soft shower of rain pittering against the windows, you let loose completely, your head slack against his sternum, breathing steadily, eyes fluttering closed. Jungkook wraps his arms around you, your breasts pressed against them, and he loves the feeling of your raw femininity in his hands, in such a nonsexual context. His arousal might be alive and longing for you, but that feeling, somehow, overweighs it in a way he’s unable to understand.

He doesn’t mind; he could stay like this.

And both of you do for some time, feeling each other’s top halves of bodies, resting, thinking of nothing, until you tip your chin and, puckering your lips, you ask for a kiss. Arch your back until your breasts bounce free from his hold. His cock twitches against your back from the sight and you smirk.

Sly little girl. He cages them once again, though this time quite differently. One hand grabs the flesh at the base, the other sneaks to your chin, your other breast nudged in the crook of his elbow. His finger traces the lines of your lips, flattened now, kissing it every once in a while. And as if it was a signal for you to open up when he stalls his movement in the middle, you open up for him. And the feeling of your tongue, the suction of your lips, the sound of it all—it drives him to head down the path of absolute madness.

He might have just found his ultimate weakness.

Jungkook adds a second finger in, when you angle your body, so he can have a good view of it, your head propped against the bathtub wall, lidded eyes fixed on him.

So much for relaxing. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, swiftly, causing your brows to knit in confusion. It humors him, but you’re not getting your way that easily.

“You should relax,” he scolds in a teasing manner, not meaning a word of it. “You’ve had a long day of shopping.”

You laugh through your nose, a soft smile gracing your lips and for a split second, Jungkook wonders if he didn’t ruin the moment again by altering the reality again, bringing back the memory of what’s happened. If he didn’t invite in your guilt, perhaps. You’re here with him, about to be made love to, while the person you still love is dealing with brokenness on the other side of the city.

And he tells you in the form of a kiss sunk into your cheek, drawing your body closer to him, cradling the back of your neck, squishing you against him. It causes you to turn your body to the side, slightly, and Jungkook hikes you higher, letting you lean your face against his cheek like that, pecking you over and over again. There isn’t enough body of water to overspill from the tub, but your shifting caused small waves to lap at your body and Jungkook finds himself transfixed by the sight of it. It seems as though the ripples are worshiping your body and an inkling to do the same, to do better, rises in him—as well as the impulse to tell you with words this time.

He should verbally communicate with you. Just to be safe.

“Did I remind you of it again?”

Your fingertips follow the valleys of his abdomen, half dipped in the water.

“Remind me of what?” you say and there’s a striking gentleness to your voice, some kind of blissfulness that feels terribly foreign to him. “Of my freedom?”

A bearable tightness clutches his chest, interlaced, most heartily, with the simplicity of his shock. Freedom. With his directions, you set yourself free. It should be something to perhaps honor and rejoice over—so why is there still a morsel of pity swarming in him? He needs you to tell him.

A streamlet of tears blurs his vision. Because his clinginess to you intensifies with each move forward, for the most part. Because he feels bad for his friend, for the lesser.

“Why do I feel so bad for him?” Jungkook questions, pressing you harder against him until there isn’t any more space to push you into.

You plop your body onto his. Chest to chest. Tummy to tummy. His cock, a bit soft now, against your femininity. Nonsexually, in all its beauty. You drag your thumbs under his waterline, collecting his essence of pain. His heart constricts.

“My freedom is his,” you say, still holding him like that—both palms on his cheeks. “We’d be stuck in a circle like this. We’d go round and round until one of us would burst and end things eventually. He’d never fully heal in this environment. He’d never look past his own insecurities, not when I’d continue to enjoy myself with you the way I always did.”

He thinks the merry go round had already begun the moment he and Yoongi made up and tried again. And considering the last thing he said to him on the phone today, there’s nothing left to do but to accept it.

Your freedom is his. Those words ring in his headspace, settling there. By unbuckling yourself from the seat of that ride, you did the same for him. And while you got off, Yoongi still remains seated.

For now.

He’ll get out of there. Jungkook believes in him.

“I’m meant to be with you,” you say and his heart goes wild, violently, under your forearm. For you. You’ve said it. You’ve made it official. Brought it into this new reality and Jungkook could weep again—and he does. Touched by his emotions, you kiss his tears, sighing against them. “I’m yours, Jungkook. Have been the moment I looked into your eyes the very first time.”

Your bare, boundless truth drives him to reveal his, too. Such power you have, such strength.

“You know I have feelings for you, right?” he murmurs, an allusion to the way you wept together in the dressing room, brushing your hair back, feeling his tenderness radiating off of his eyes, immensely. How easy it is, to tell you something groundbreaking like that, even as absurdly as he did. “Don’t let go of me. Don’t let go of those feelings. Keep them safe.”

Your own tears pool in your waterline and you nod, a smile glinting upon your lips. So you knew, felt the love like he did, enkindled by your mutual release. He wasn’t wrong. His heart pounds and for the first time upon this trajectory, this doesn’t feel unreal. It feels real. Alive, possible, full of life.

“I do, too. Held them in for so long. Never admitted it to myself for his sake. But that’s over now. I’ll keep it safe. All of you, Jungkook.”

You love him.

His sobs gather in his sternum, his lungs too small to capture them in place.

You love him. And it’s real.

Gripping your hair, he kisses you, deeply. And both streams of tears turn into one river—and both of you can’t halt the hunger creeping in. The hunger for more, for your love to burst at last and absorb your reality. Tongues mingling, tasting something new. Teeth clashing, lips tingling. Breaths hard and ragged. Jungkook can’t take it. Can’t hold back his body from lifting off of the rounded wall of the tub, the water sloshing and splashing all around.

And then you say something that grazes his madness ever so unmercifully.

“Put it in.”

He groans, biting your bottom lip, fingertips making dents on your small waist. Horny girl, asking for something you can’t handle. He swears, his arousal awakening yet again in full speed, taking over him wholly. “I haven’t stretched you out yet.”

You grind your femininity against his tightening cock and he’s done for, feeling your pulse. “Stretch me out like this.”

He squeezes your ass hard, making you moan onto his mouth, in effort to make you listen to him and submit to his better knowing. “It’ll hurt, sweetheart.”

Your breath wafts over him as you close your lips over his, sucking. “I can take it.”

Such a stark contrast to the words you uttered in the dressing room. His madness heightens. So much that he moans into your lip lock, dipping you in the water to make you laugh, clutching onto him as you yelp, your adorable laughter vibrating through the bathroom, bouncing off of the walls and sneaking, in the long run, into the chambers of his heart, coming to live there.

This is happiness.

And the vibrations are too, too much for him to handle. So unusual, so beautiful.

“Hold onto me,” Jungkook commands as he wraps your legs around his torso tighter and rises, stepping out of the bathtub and reaching for a towel in his cabinet while his other hand holds you steady by his forearm under your bum like a child.

Leaving you to your own strength for a second, he wraps the large fabric around you both, bunching the ends in his fist on your back, exiting out of the bathroom and laying you down onto his bed. Your hair sprawls on his bedding and he thinks you look like an angel, maddened just the same by something beyond lust, by something way purer. He kisses your lips, fleetingly, and begins to focus on your neck, unfurling his love there. He sucks your wet skin, licking it all over, scattering his hard kisses there—the ones that drive you wild, moaning loudly and bravely, deservingly so. And he marks this victorious day there with pretty, pretty colors of red and purple. Doesn’t stop. Not until you beg him, writhing underneath him, excited and eager.��

“Please, Jungkook, take me.”

Such sweet, innocent words. He listens, cooing, dragging you further up on the bed, so he can lie on top of you and take his hard kisses further down, marking all the places where your invisible tattoos are, bringing them to life all over again. Above both of your nipples, especially on the right one, where that frilly rose was, covering the peak. And he feels you melt, feels you soak his lower abdomen when he sucks on that nub, flicking his tongue, making you cry out so beautifully, so desperately that his arousal for you rigidifies. And when he looks at his artwork, fists propped on either side of you like his knees, it steals all of his breath.

“You look so beautiful like this. All mine.”

All his, wet with the last drops of water, with the pearls of his saliva, with your essence coating your folds. Adorned with red tattoos. He has his own on his arm and hand, except on his chest and he thinks the one he gave you make up for it. Thinks they’re his as much as they’re yours and it causes his length to twitch against his stomach, so terribly needy for you.

“And you look beautiful like this. All hard for me,” you mimic his words and he grows feral, even more so when you continue. “It’s all mine, isn’t it?” You take him into your hand again, but he pins both of your wrists down, above your head. And the smile you grace him with—it makes him yearn to make love to you like this. Bound, while the rest of you would remain the quite opposite.

He growls, kissing you. “All yours. All yours for you to take and come around. All yours, my sweetheart. Always has been.” He kisses you harder and you whimper. Pulls away just to swirl his tongue around yours, open mouth and all, before closing his lips down again in a profound, warm and homely lock. “Spread your legs for me. I’m gonna get you ready for it.”

He does it himself, folding you in half, the glistening of your folds visible even in the slight lack of light in the room. Oh, he can’t have you like this. Reaching behind himself, he turns on his bedside lamp, bathing you in a soft, yellow light that suits you the most. You’re holding your legs apart for him and he places wet kisses on the back of your thigh, ravagedly, to reward you for it, trailing them down until he’s face to face with your drenched princess parts. And it’s a groan of relief that emits out of him when he’s this close to you, hands pushing your knees down, spreading you even more to gratify his hunger.

He’s starving. Terribly starving.

And he rolls his eyes back when he takes the entirety of you into his mouth, tongue dragging upon your slit, up and down, drinking your dew, penetrating only a little bit just to tease you, just to mess around with your madness. And when he flattens his tongue against your swollen clit, you cry out. Surprise him when you grip his hair, enough to cause him to flick his eyes to you. Your mouth is parted, but grinning nonetheless, your own eyes heavily lidded, emitting light and joy and Jungkook simply decides to make this experience better for you.

He lifts your hips in the air and devours you, lapping at your clit over and over again, letting you see what he’s doing to you without taking his eyes off of you, nose pressed against your shiny mound. You whisper your vulgarities and he’d let it pass if he didn’t consider this a holy, spiritual occurrence. He withdraws and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him, the way your slick trickles down your clit and your mound, rooting in the squishy part of your lower tummy. He hums, delighting in the sight.

“Be good,” he scolds, smiling down at you and your grin widens. You nod your head, your hands still crossed above you without his to hold them down. Scratch his words—you’re already the best girl. He licks up the trickle of your essence trailing down your clit, making you writhe again. “Feel how wet you are for me.”

Carefully, you skim your palm down your soaked belly, gasping, until your fingers reach your nub, the concoction of his saliva and your arousal seeping into your skin. He encourages you with noises of approval to keep going, bending you even more in half, your back leaning against his thighs, the pads of your fingers circling your center, eyes wide at the discovery, able to see just how celestially aroused you are for him. So beautiful. He bites onto the flesh upon the side of your thigh, only because he can’t help it, soothing down the sting with his tongue. And he hums at the sound of your moans, at the sound of your slipperiness when you drag your fingers down to your clit and stop there.

“Hm, yes, sweetheart, rub that pretty clit for me,” he murmurs and his chest explodes at the principle that he’s able to say that to you. That he doesn’t need anyone’s permission or approval. That he can do whatever he pleases with you without any consequences to reap. That he’s free. You must be thinking about this, too, but in a different way, because you hesitate. He’ll destroy that dubiety. It won’t show its face again—as long as he lives on this earth. “You can do it, my love. You’re free.”

The reassurance washes over you and rids you of that fleeting negativity. He understands this is new for the both of you—there’s some still getting used to, so it’s completely normal. He’ll try his hardest to make this as much of an easy ride for you as he can. It’s his duty.

“Don’t be afraid,” he continues, adding your name, softly. “You’re here with me and you’re safe.”

Jungkook leans over and kisses you. You nod into the kiss and he returns to his position, catching you rubbing your clit, slowly, with two fingers, the other spread on your folds. And both of you moan simultaneously.

“That’s it,” he whispers, enthralled, making way for the sound of your slick to overpower the atmosphere. “That’s my good girl. Make yourself feel good for me.”

You whimper his name, buckling your hips in his hold, squeezing your eyes shut and Jungkook can see the waves of pressure charging your tender body. Now is the time for his participation.

He sinks his middle finger inside, making your eyes pop open and stare him down, just for you to submerge yourself under the surface of that sea of lust and let your irises whisk back. Your walls clench around him and he waits until you speed up your circles to join his other finger, biting his lip to push back his desire to sink himself inside you. He tries to pay little attention to the way he drips for you.

But then you use the rest of your fingers to bring yourself to your climax and Jungkook takes it as a sign. Another finger in, he curls them, fucking you the way you like. Fast, grazing your sweet little spot that beckons your sweat out of your pores and when your pussy drools even more for him, he adds another. You gasp and he knows exactly how you’re feeling, how good this is for you.

“You feel so full, sweetheart, don’t you?” he coos, jackhammering his hand harder and you drench it, completely. He flattens his fingers, allowing you to see the thick sheen and you mewl, a litany of his name spilling along. “You’re so wet. So horny for me, aren’t you? You’re gonna come?”

You scream your agreement, squirming, strumming your fingers harder and this is it for him. He changes direction. Fucks his fingers up and down and your toes curl, chest heaving heavily and you just keep on screaming. A delightful sound.

“Come for me, then. Like the best girl you are.”

You clench around him. So much that he can barely move his fingers, sunk in so deeply. He just flexes them, drawing out your orgasm and you give it to him.

And you’re wet all over again. Sprinkled by pearls upon pearls of your pleasure. He is, too, and it worsens his desperation for you.

You’re panting, but he’s not done with you. Setting you down, he laps up the violent evidence of your orgasm, making you twitch in overstimulation and he eases the pressure of his tongue for you. Sucking on your folds, he decides to mark you there. Just below your hip bone, too. Such intimate places. Perfect for a temporary keepsake like this.

Hovering above you, he circles his tongue tinged with your taste around yours, forcing you to moan again. And he kisses you softly. “You deserved that orgasm.”

You whine, red all over, and Jungkook understands you need more. He pulls away, clutches himself to line up at your entrance, but you stop him.

“I want you.”

He smirks, longs to hear you be more specific. “How?”

You huff. So adorable. “In my mouth.”

He chuckles. Should’ve asked where, but he’s at your service—he’s willing to give you anything you want. “All right, but just for a little bit, okay?” You nod, vehemently, and he pats your cheek. “On your knees.”

Oh, he’ll never tire of the view of your submissiveness, of your hunger for such a private part of him. He makes a mess for you on the towel, dripping more than he ever has, and he holds himself at the base, grabbing your jaw in his hand. Brutality, the one he’s obsessed with, swims past your irises when you gaze up at him. A feral animal, an angel in hiding—he’d love to embellish you with the sticky traces of his fixation, but he shouldn’t, no matter how much he craves it. He can’t stain you, not today. Can’t ruin the holiness. He’ll let you play with him before he seals it for all eternity.

Tomorrow he will. Smear you with it until it’s all your pores know.

Jungkook traces the lines of your mouth with the tip of his length, just like he did with his finger in the bathtub, and you hum, liking it. He can vividly see your yearning to rub your face against him again and he lets you, encourages you in fact, pulling you closer until you nuzzle your nose against his girth, his skin caressing your cheek, and you kiss him all over. Place your hands over his and suck him inside your mouth, drinking his precum. Only to withdraw right away, sit back on your legs without lifting your hands, and look up at him with the vastness of your overbearing innocence and love.

“You’re mine,” you purr, fucking him with your fist.

Jungkook nods, just once. Doesn’t even feel his butterflies anymore, too numbed by you, by the pleasure you’re giving him. “That’s right, my love.”

You suck in a breath, biting your lip hard as if it took all of your energy not to make him come at this very instant. And you lengthen your spine, asking for a kiss again, and he bends at the waist, kissing you nastily, pushing your head back to his cock, inciting you to do what you truly crave to.

And you take him so well, your cheeks hollow, and he’s unabashed, free to let out his male noises, whimpering for you, panting heavily as you bob your head, slurping him, spitting on him. You toy with his tip, tugging at his length, colliding into his fist and it isn’t until you rub your face against his balls that it becomes his undoing. He stalls his orgasm, strains to do so, just to please you and he pries your hands away from his length, lets you focus on his sack. The least he could do to last. But then you grab it into your fist, sucking his balls, one by one, into your mouth, even try to take both of them at once and that’s it. He can’t breathe, his heart wringing painfully with all the love that brims in him for you. No one has ever done that to him.

You flick your tongue against them, your other hand wrapping around his tip again, tugging and he nears dangerously close to the bursting of his orgasm.

“That’s enough.”

He draws you away from his cock, using all of his strength, and pins you down. A splutter of your giggles waft in the air, your chin wet with your spit and he moves his mouth so rapidly against yours that you struggle to kiss him back, growing calm all of a sudden, as if overcome with the gravity of it all.

He looks at you for a long while. Puffy, red mouth, that he craves to bite onto—and he does. Darkened eyes, full of freedom and exhilaration. Neck, chest, tummy and the rest of the delicious parts of you scattered with hickeys, with his own personal keepsakes. He loves you so much that he becomes frustrated, needing to let it out somehow. All of his muscles tense and he clenches his grip on your wrists.

“You want me to die? Is that what you want?” he hisses, speaking of the sloppy blowjob you gave him, gliding his wet cock across your seashell. You lose a breath, drowsy eyes fluttering, spreading your legs for him. No wonder you’re tired—you gave it your all. He sinks his teeth hard into his bottom lip, his frustration rising, brows knitted. “You can’t play with me like that. I was seconds away from coming all over your pretty face.”

“I wanted you to,” you say, loud and clear, and Jungkook is hot all over.

Turning you over to your side, he squeezes the flesh of your bum until it hurts as a punishment, knowing you’re not ready for the full thing. It’s too soon. Your wincing breaks into a low, alluring moan and it fills him with adrenaline. And then you smile at him, light flashing in your countenance. You’re anything but punished; you’re pleased.

Looks like you need another form of punishment.

Fuck it, fuck all spiritual aspects of this. The angels in heaven need to look away for now and cover their ears. He’s going to make love to you in a way they’ve never witnessed before and it’s good that they never will.

“What did you say?” Jungkook feignedly questions, pinning you back down and burying himself in your heat. Having stretched you out well enough, he gives you his half right away, but he doesn’t stop there, not when you lift your chest off of the mattress, not when you lose yourself in the sudden fullness and the music of your mutual moans. You grip him so tight that he forgets, for a split moment, what he’s punishing you for.

You stammer, seemingly forgetting, too. And when his mound kisses yours, your words falter altogether—a crescendo into silence. Eyes wide, unblinking, taking him most courageously. Jungkook hums, immensely proud of you, slowly pounding you into the mattress with hard strokes.

And when he gives you a particularly unmerciful one, you scream, shaking all over in his hands.

“Yes, sweetheart, that’s what you get,” he purrs, grinding his hips, loving the way he toys with your senses, your peaked nubs digging into his chest, and you can’t catch your breath, your whole body tense. “Too deep?”

You nod. “Too deep, baby, I can’t take it, fuck. It’s too much.”

Cooing, he kisses you. The pet name, your tightness—he’s losing his mind and it’s your fault. Your wonderful, wonderful fault. You don’t even let him pull out, you keep him caged in, your walls fluttering against him and he whimpers, shaking like you, unable to continue kissing you.

“Relax, my love, or you’re really gonna kill me,” he croaks out, ascending to heavenly places where they don’t, in most certainty, don’t want to see him. Sitting back on his feet, he thumbs your clit, helping you calm down. “Good girl. Feels good, stuffed full like this? My thumb rubbing your sweet little clit, hm?”

It is a miracle, the way he knows your body and knows what to do with it because your walls loosen, enabling him to fuck you, sloppily, your slick squeaking along with your quickening breaths. You scream out your yeses, driving him to give you his all.

“Just like that,” he whispers, approving, his balls tightening already, the pressure in his lower tummy becoming bigger.

You deserve the full thing, though. Jungkook places your knee on his shoulder. And with each stroke, his mound stimulates your clit, getting you nice and fast to his level.

He cradles your blissed-out face, the heel of his palm putting pressure on your throat. And onto that expression of elation, he uncoils his love for you, brutally fucking you until your whole body ripples beneath him.

“Whose are you, huh?” he moans, driving into you, rearranging your guts. Sweat drips off of his forehead. “Whose pretty girl are you?”

Your own sounds of pleasure rise in pitch and volume and he senses, he knows you’re about to come for him.

“Yours, Jungkook, yours,” you choke out and he’s so proud of you that he hums, his balls slapping against your bum, and he kisses you, giving you his tongue. You suck on it, getting him right there to the edge of his orgasm.

“Fuck, such a good girl. All mine. You know that I love you, right?”

And the once reappearing absurdity of his choice of words pushes over that edge and you squeeze him, squeeze him hard, milking his cum out of you and he growls into your mouth. You take over each and every one of his senses, making them yours, and he fucks his cum into you, his mouth smacking against yours, as you whisper your I love you’s and he swallows them down.

Heaven or something beyond. You created it and he wants to spend the rest of his life there.

Panting, he kisses your jaw, marking you there for the last time. Unbelief grasping him that he finds himself in such a place glazed with love. “You love me?”

You whimper, shuddering all over, your orgasm still seizing you. “I love you so fucking much.”

He licks into your mouth, ending your release. “My best girl. I’ll take care of you. I’ll never let you go. You’re never getting out of my sight again.”

Jungkook lets go of your wrists. They must be cramping, tingling and he massages them in the air, sitting back, his length still inside your homely heat. Your eyes wet again, sobs break out of your mouth and he shushes you most affectionately, his heart twinging. He lifts you and sits you down on his lap, hugging you close to his chest. Skin to skin. You cling to him with everything in you and he holds you together, so you don’t fall apart.

“You’re my savior. My healer,” you wail, gripping his hair. As if your breaking wasn’t enough, your words hit him hard and his vision soaks along with yours. You’ve never told him that before—never told him the roles he has in your life. He appreciates them so much, holds them dear to his heart. Never wants to forget them. “Don’t ever leave me, please. I beg you.”

It’s him who now breaks. Right there on your shoulder, beneath the waterfall of your hair.

“I could never. You’re my life. You’re my everything. How could I ever leave you?”

You sob harder, lifting your head, and the sight of your rawness makes him fall even more in love with you. Jungkook smooths down your hair and wipes away your tears. Kisses you, deeply, and lingers there. And along with the kiss, you and him exchange your last I love you’s for the night.

Tub drained, candle snuffed out, cheese balls devoured, the rain finishing like that chapter of your life—Jungkook feels himself entering a brand new one with you, one where Yoongi isn’t present, as he dresses you in his clothes. For panties, he slinks your legs into his boxers, keeping them warm with a pair of his own joggers. Then, he tugs his hoodie down your head, pushing your arms through the sleeves. Smirks at the way his clothes fit you well. As if they were your own. At the way he matches with you.

He overflows with a thrumming life.

A brand new chapter filled with myriads of different, ecstatic possibilities. And you seal them to completion, when tucked in bed, lying on his chest, you sleepily utter the first prospect that you want to bring to life.

“Will you take me to your cabin tomorrow?”

His breath hitches in his throat. He never thought he’d be returning there so soon, especially not with you. His mouth quirks up, body suffused with a foreign excitement, and right away he deduces the reason why you want to go there.

“You really want that dildo, don’t you?”

You merely laugh through your nose.

Oh, he’s calling in sick tomorrow. Will take you there first thing in the morning. Will do absolutely anything for you.

“I’ll fuck you hard with it until you completely drench it, then. Sleep for now, so we can get to tomorrow.”

You kiss his clothed chest. Nuzzle your face in it. Whisper your thank you. Jungkook pretends he didn’t just get hard all over again.

“Good night,” you say.

He pecks your hair. “Good night, sweetheart.”

BACK to masterlist

#jungkook x oc #yoongi smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot #yoongi x oc #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine

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paisleypens · 4 months

Note

Hello! I hope you’re having a good day. I heard you were taking requests so I have an idea!!

How about a Spencer Reid x Fem!shy!reader who is really quiet around the team? And so she doesn’t talk to them much? (Especially Spencer because she likes him!)

So to show her love/affection she does small things for him but doesn’t admit she was the one who did so. (Like making his coffee, secretly organizing his desk, like little kind things)

I want the confession to happen but I don’t know how I want it so you can decide! Have a little fun with it if you will.

I hope you can write this, and I’m so so sorry if it’s something you don’t want to write or feel uncomfortable with it. I just wanted to give you an idea for a story! Let me know if you don’t want to or if you will either way is fine with me!

I’m sorry if I didn’t include enough details and thank you for taking the time to read this!

Have a lovely day. 💕

(ALSO I READ YOUR OTHER SPENCER STORIES THEY WERE SPECTACULAR)

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH STOP IT MOST POLITE ASK EVERRR

this is genius btw and ive been writing so much to avoid things i actually have to do so… THANK YOU FOR FEEDING ME LMAO

acts of service | spencer reid x f!reader

let me know what you think <33

~~~~

The BAU office buzzed with its usual energy as Spencer Reid meticulously poured over case files, his mind racing through complex connections only he could decipher. Among the team, a shy figure often went unnoticed, working hard behind the scenes. Y/N, the quiet and reserved member of the team, kept to herself, her actions speaking volumes that words couldn't describe.

Spencer often found his desk mysteriously tidied up, papers organized, and his favorite pens neatly arranged. Coffee appeared magically beside his laptop, always sickeningly sweet, just how he liked it. At first, he attributed it to the office fairy, a playful term Morgan coined. However, as time passed and the small acts of service continued, Spencer couldn't ignore the pattern.

One evening, as the team gathered after a long day, Derek leaned back in his chair, eyes glinting with mischief. "Hey, pretty boy, you ever notice how Y/N here keeps your world in order without saying a word?"

"What do you mean?" Spencer furrowed his brow, glancing at her, who was discreetly arranging files nearby.

Derek chuckled, nudging Spencer. "Come on, Reid. The coffee, the desk, all those little things. It's like having a secret admirer right under your nose."

Spencer's gaze softened as realization dawned on him. He watched you for a moment, noticing the slight blush that dusted her cheeks as she worked. In that moment, he saw beyond the quiet demeanor, understanding the depth of these silent gestures.

The next morning, Spencer arrived at the office earlier than usual, a determined gleam in his eyes. He set about making coffee, meticulously following Y/N’s routine, ensuring every detail was perfect. As she entered, surprised to see him there, he offered a shy smile, holding out a mug of freshly brewed coffee.

"Morning," he greeted softly, his usually fast-paced words slowed by a newfound nervousness.

Y/N blinked in astonishment, taking the mug from his outstretched hand. "Th-thank you, Spencer.”

He nodded, his cheeks tinged with pink. "I just wanted to say... I appreciate everything you do. Your actions speak louder than words, and they haven't gone unnoticed, I just hope you meant it in the way I interpreted it."

A smile bloomed on her face, warmth spreading through her chest. Finally feeling understood, she replied, "I like you too, Spencer. And not just for the coffee."

From that day forward, Spencer and Y/N shared more than just a quiet understanding. Silent acts of love were now met with drawn out conversation and reciprocated gestures, creating a bond that spoke volumes even when rooted in the absence of sound.

#criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #paisleypens

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jez-bez · 1 month

Text

Another unpopular opinion: Korn does not want to sleep with Fasai

Korn is a lot of things, but a cheater he is not.

In a fit of 'Jez analyses things because she sees things differently' here's my take on the KornFasai situation.

It's starts with Korn arriving at this place, entering the room where the director (his uncle? I think?) is waiting for him with Fasai sitting there too, sipping from her wine, wiggling her toes, all in what i feel is like expectance.

First of all, what is she even doing there? Who is she? Why is she important?

Korn, as shown above, is hella nervous. His whole demeanour is off, tapping his fingers, waiting, waiting, waiting. And then his uncle tells him off immediately, saying 'first day on the job and you've already tanked the shares'

The shot changes to show Fasai, and lemme tell you smth, I can recognize a bitch when I see one. (sorry not sorry, she just screams main character syndrome to me) She doesn't do anything but swirl her wine a little, sizing Korn up. She's putting him on the spot, is what's she's doing. Keeping him there, locked in her gaze. Korn cannot hide.

The conversation goes on to discuss what Korn can do to fix shit, and Fasai only takes her eyes off of Korn for just a second when the uncle says 'i know what to do about the issue'

but then after, her gaze is right back on Korn, intimidating, nailing him to the chair he's sitting on. Now lemme tell you, it could ofc be something they're into. Fasai being in control and Korn being her puppet, but I don't think that's the case.

"You have a lot to learn, Korn."

The whole conversation is clearly a means to get under Korn's skin. Sure, they make it seem like they want to help him, but body language tells me they're attempting to knead him into submission.

"You've got a lot to learn, Korn."

And then Uncle looks straight over to Fasai with the dirtiest smirk known to mankind. That, to me, speaks VOLUMES.

And the way Fasai is still looking at Korn makes me think that she never took her eyes off of him. Swirling her wine, sizing him up. She's ready. She's waiting for the right moment to strike.

And Korn, poor baby Korn, is so uncomfortable. Eyes twitching, not knowing where to look, taking a sip from his wine because he just doesn't know what to do. With this new position, he's been thrown into a pit full of starving lions.

Drinking the wine as liquid courage. In later eps we see Korn absolutely abusing alcohol to forget what happened. Why would he do so if he enjoys sleeping with Fasai?

The scene then changes to Korn and Fasai alone, she has two wine glasses, one for her one for Korn. Saying that 'Korn doesn't need to worry anymore.' She's looking down at him. You can play this off of 'yes, but Korn is seated and she's still standing' and you'd be correct!

But this series is at this point, (we're already at ep4 im just slow in making posts lmao sorry) at this point we know how 4minutes uses camera angles to tell a story. Fasai is looking down at him.

"Fah, do you know how your father took care of that shareholder?"

She knows, even if she says she doesn't. That smile says it all.

"If there's any other problems, you can call me."

Aka I'll take care of it for you, because Fasai has power. Korn's face is so uncomfortable right now. This scene shows they've known each other for very long, but that doesn't mean he likes her.

More symbolism. She's towering over him. She's the boss.

Must I say it again? Power. Authority. Expectance.

Walking over and sitting down onto the bed wordlessly, demanding Korn to understand.

When she reveals her naked legs, Korn looks over and knows what time it is.

He then turns away with this look on his face that I can only describe as 'I don't want to.' but knowing he has no choice.

More liquid courage.

Korn strips bare naked all in front of the watchful gaze of Fasai.

Vulnerable. That's what he is right now. Completely at Fasai's mercy. (tho, goddamn Bas, your ass please.)

Korn's face when Fasai touches him. The camera position here is important too. It's just above him, pointed and tilted down, so that we too, are looking down at him.

And can we just quickly jump back to his face when he was with Ton Kla? Because the difference is HUGE.

That's a smile on his face right there after Ton Kla patted his crotch.

The differences, y'all. I'm telling you.

Woman, a beautiful man is about to go down on you, please pay him some respect and look at him.

But also! Camera angles! We're looking up to her. Again, she's the boss.

During the whole 10 seconds that we are to assume Korn is going down on her, she camera is only trained on her. From below. We're looking up at her.

This, to me, is more of a business transaction than a 'hey we like each other, we hook up' kind of thing.

Is it cheating? I mean, Korn does sleep with her (i assume) and I would consider going down on someone absolutely cheating, but I don't think he wants to.

He has to, whether he wants it or not. This is his life.

#4 minutes the series #4 minutes #kornfasai #tonkla #korntonkla #meta #4minutes ep2

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daisynik7 · 1 year

Text

Give You Blue

Chapter 1: How It Ends

Pairing: Eren x f!reader, Reiner x f!reader (past relationship)

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

cw: explicit sexual content/smut (brief flashback), language, angst, a breakup

Word Count: ~3.2k

Next Chapter

Give You Blue Masterlist | ao3 | Give You Blue Taglist

Summary: Reiner, your best friend since childhood and your high school sweetheart, breaks up with you the night before the new semester begins. With his car packed with both your belongings, the hour long drive back to campus the next day offers some clarity. Author's Notes: Excited to be writing a new series! I hope you all enjoy it. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciate. Thank you so much!

“I think we should break-up.”

It’s the last day of summer vacation, the night before you and Reiner head back to Stohess University for the start of a new schoolyear. You’ve been at his place all day, helping him pack his car, which is already halfway full of your own belongings. With the door to his bedroom wide open, you can hear his mom humming a familiar tune downstairs as she puts away the leftovers from tonight’s dinner. Her signature meatloaf and mashed potatoes, a favorite of yours and Reiner’s. It’s been this way since you were ten years old, when the two of you finally started eating real food instead of only candy, pizza rolls, and chicken nuggets.

The words come out of his mouth low and monotone, an automated machine void of any emotions. That’s why you’re convinced it’s in your imagination, until he speaks again. “Coco, did you hear me?”

Coco. It’s the silly nickname he’s had for you since you were five, the first time you ever met on the school playground. You were in the same kindergarten class, but Reiner could not, for the life of him, remember your name for two whole weeks. What he does remember is you eating a homemade coconut macaroon every first recess of the day. And like a typically five-year-old boy, he picked on you for it, calling you Coconut even after he learned your name. Even after you became the best of friends. Eventually, it became Coco for short, and from there, it just stuck. You’re not sure if you ever liked it; maybe you only did because it was him calling you that. One of the many special secrets shared between you two throughout the years.

You turn towards him, a pair of his socks in hand, ready to roll and toss into his half empty luggage, unfazed. “Huh?” You’re prepared to hear him say something else, anything else.

He swallows hard, a serious expression on his face, glancing at his feet. “I think we should break-up.”

It takes you a good minute to process it. Three minutes, if you’re being completely honest. And he doesn’t rush you this time for a response, seeing you stare back at him, a deer in headlights, seconds before getting hit and crushed under the weight of a semi-truck. Because that’s how it feels when your boyfriend of four years and your best friend of even longer tells you that he thinks the two of you should break-up.

You’re surprised at how long it takes for the tears to stream down your face. Everyone knows, Reiner included, how much of a sap you are. You cry easily over the most insignificant things – a car commercial, people playing with puppies, a sad scene in a movie. But this – this absolutely warrants all the tears you’ve cried over stupid shit like that.

Reiner quickly closes the door and wraps his arms around you, lips pressed to your forehead. “Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His facial hair brushes against you, a sensation you’ve always found comforting. He was a late-bloomer, incapable of growing that rugged look all throughout high school. It was really only last year when he needed to pay more attention to it; grooming became part of his regular routine. Now, it’s harsh and coarse against smooth skin, an itch you want to scratch but can’t. Somehow, you keep your volume to a minimum, aware that Mrs. Braun is downstairs, blissfully ignorant to what’s happening above her. Through quiet, choked sobs, you ask, “Why?”

He sighs, a pained expression on his face now; he’s always hated seeing you cry. How much worse does he feel knowing he’s the cause of it? Leading you to the edge of the bed, he sits, and you follow. With your hand in his, he starts explaining himself. “We’ve been inseparable for so long; I just think we need to take some time to figure ourselves out. As individuals.” He’s practiced this before, you can tell. He usually sputters when he’s put on the spot. Not this time. He’s been thinking about this for a while, you realize, and it breaks your heart more.

It’s hard for you to look at him as he speaks, so you stare at his lap, his hands holding yours delicately. When you don’t respond, he continues. “We’ve been friends forever, and I don’t want to lose that. I don’t. I just need to explore my horizons.”

In your mind, you replace the word horizons with options. He joined a frat last semester, which you can admit, worried you at first. He assured you nothing about him would change, and you believed him. Before your logic can stop you, you spit out, “So you’re trying to fuck some sorority girls, is that it?”

He clicks his tongue at you, disappointed. You’re better than this, you know this, and he does too. “C’mon. It’s not like that.”

“Then what? Don’t bullshit me, Reiner. If you’re going to break-up with me, I deserve to know the truth.” It’s fighting words. You can’t help it when you’re defenseless like this.

He hesitates before confessing, “I’m not in love with you anymore.”

It fucking hurts to hear. The one person you were so sure would never harm you, stabbing you in every vital point of your body. It’s betrayal, disappointment, and heartache all at once, and you’d give anything to turn back the clock and go back to even a few minutes ago, when you were happily folding his laundry. You’re speechless, a jumble of thoughts stuck in your throat, gagging you until it’s too hard to breathe and you’re gasping for air. There’s static noise surrounding your ear drums, and Reiner’s voice is so muffled that you can barely understand him. You reach around him for a pillow, burying your face in it to hide your cries.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” Baby. He still calls you that through a breakup. You’re his baby that he’s not in love with you anymore. It’s all so fucked up. Between anguished sobs, you ask, “What did I do wrong?”

He rambles on and on about how it’s not you it’s me. It was nothing you did, except in the back of your mind, you keep thinking why wasn’t I good enough? He strokes the back of your hand with his palm, his skin cracked and calloused from rock-climbing, one of his new favorite hobbies. You’ve been nagging him about using that special cream you bought for him, the one that’s supposed to help soothe skin with a tiny dollop. Did that annoy him? Is that the feather that tipped the scale? You can’t help but replay every single fucking thing you’ve ever said to him, every single thing you’ve ever done for him, trying to discern when and where it went downhill.

You’ve always been best friends first, lovers second. You thought it was special this way, that it means something more. Now, as you sit at the edge of the bed with him, listening to him talk in circles about how this isn’t your fault, you realize that maybe that’s what led to this. Better off as friends, nothing more. You were both sixteen when you decided to cross the line. At the time, it felt right. Looking back, maybe it was just convenient. Were the two of you doomed from that day on?

“I’ll always love you, Coco.” He repeats it, hoping it’ll make you feel better. You hold your tongue, tempted to reply then why are you doing this? It’s a slap in the face when he says it. A consolation prize reminding you that you lost.

At the end of the day, you can’t hate him. There’s too much history there. You’ve been through too much together, seen each other at your lowest points, held each other up at the highest. That kind of relationship is rare, a treasure too precious to throw away. But damn, you want to bury it in the darkest depths of the ocean right now. Hell, you want to sink down with it.

There’s no yelling; you don’t have it in your heart to scream at him with his mother in the house with you. He probably planned it like this; he knows you too well. You don’t like making a scene, especially in front of Mrs. Braun, who’s basically another mother to you.

You think back on the other night, in this very bedroom. His mom went out to dinner with some friends, leaving you two alone. Of course, you took the opportunity to fuck each other silly. He ate you out sloppily at the edge of the bed, kneeling before you on the carpet with your legs spread wide. Was he already considering the break-up in this moment? He must have. This kind of decision doesn’t just happen. As he bounced you on his cock, his usual tired eyes peering up at you with a small grin on his face, he said, “God, you’re perfect.” And when you came with his thumb on your clit, cock still buried deep in your pussy, he whispered, “I love you,” before he released inside you. He repeated it when you relaxed against his chest, bodies spent, chanting it while he caressed your back. I love you, I love you, I love you.

You sleep in his bed tonight. Instead of being cuddled in the middle, you roll the farthest you can, turning your back to face away from him. He does the same.

“Are you still awake?” he whispers, barely audible. You don’t respond.

You hear him exhale. “I’m sorry.”

Several minutes later, he stops stirring and his soft snores fill the quiet. Eventually, you fall asleep too, wiping your tears on the pillowcase.

~~~

The next morning, you pretend that everything is normal at breakfast. Mrs. Braun prepares a feast, as usual, before you make the journey back to school. She remains ignorant to the fact that you and Reiner are no longer a couple. He mentioned it last night, how he doesn’t want his mom to worry, that it’s not the right time to break the news to her. Honestly, he’s too scared to confront it, knowing for a fact how big of a deal this will be to his family. You two are practically married in their eyes. Well, were.

You do your best to act like your cheery self, despite being close to dead inside. Reiner gives you nervous glances here and there, afraid you’ll explode any second. You keep your cool, though, making conversation with Mrs. Braun, feigning excitement for the upcoming semester. Laughing along to jokes about how Reiner should be more focused on his studies and less on the frat parties. Ha ha ha.

Around noon, with the car fully packed with yours and Reiner’s possessions, you bid farewell to his mom. She gives you a warm embrace, squeezing you extra hard. “Take care of yourself, dear. And take care of Reiner too. Love you.” It takes all the strength you have left in your feeble body to not sob on the spot, so you quickly return the sentiment and walk to the passenger side, closing the door shut, burying your face in your palms. A few moments later, Reiner joins you in the driver’s seat, one more wave to his mother before starting the car and driving away.

It's silent for the first five minutes, you wiping your tears with your sleeves, him changing the song every three seconds on his playlist to preoccupy himself. He finally picks a song, a familiar one that you know all too well. It brings back memories of the summer right after you graduated high school. The melody synonymous with weekly road trips to the beach or warm nights staying in, watching a movie marathon in bed. A bowl of popcorn on your lap, his arm wrapped around your shoulder. His face nuzzling your ear, lips nipping at your lobe. Soft touches leading to rough sex, with your mouth biting the pillow to muffle your moans as he pumps his cock into you. The cuddling afterwards, him whispering that he loves you, and that he’s so happy that you’re both going to the same college. Because he wants nothing more than to stay with you, to be with you, for the rest of your lives.

You can’t take it anymore. Before you realize, you reach over to shut off the radio, the silence louder than the music that was playing. He glances at you, mouth agape like he wants to yell, but he doesn’t. He focuses his attention on the road again, taking a deep breath before saying, “You could have asked me to change the song.”

You cross your arms over your chest, leaning your head against the window, watching the blur of buildings pass as you approach the freeway. “Every song on this playlist reminds me of you. Of us.”

He pauses, unsure how to respond. “I’m sorry.”

You’re sick of hearing it, but you don’t tell him that. Instead, you ask, “When did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That you wanted to break up.” After having a night to let it sink it, you’re ready to talk about it. At least, you think you are.

He thinks carefully, knuckles tight on the wheel, brow knit. You wait patiently for his answer, growing more afraid of whatever harsh truth he’s about to drop on you. “It’s been on my mind all summer, if I’m being completely honest.”

Never mind; maybe you’re not ready for this. Still, you let curiosity get the best of you. You swallow back the quiver in your throat, tears welling in your eyes again. “Why did you start thinking about it?”

He sighs, clearly uncomfortable. “Are you sure you want to hear this? I thought I already told you yesterday. It’s not you, it’s me.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the cliché. “I’d rather hear the truth than hear that bullshit again.”

He bites his lower lip, inhaling deeply through his nose. “I guess I started to think about how you and I have been together forever. Basically our whole lives. We don’t really know what’s it like to not be with each other.”

“And that’s bad?”

He shakes his head. “It’s not bad. It’s just…college is supposed to be about experiencing new things, right? Stepping outside our comfort zone. I don’t know if we can do that if we’re together. We rely on each other so much; we’ll never be able to explore the real world.”

You continue to stare out the window, watching as you zoom past the other cars on the street. Reiner has always been a fast driver, foot heavy on the gas pedal, raring to go past the speed limit for that tiny rush of adrenaline. You, on the other hand, are safe, never willing to push the boundaries, even for a fleeting moment. Maybe this type of mentality goes beyond the steering wheel.

After a moment, he asks, “Haven’t you ever been curious?”

“Of what?”

“What it would be like to date other people?”

It’s your turn to bite your lip, contemplating the question. In all honestly, you’ve never pictured yourself with anyone else besides Reiner. He wasn’t perfect by any means, and neither were you. But when you pour your heart and soul into one person for years, it’s difficult to imagine repeating that process with someone else.

You choose your words carefully. “I never thought about it, no. But I…I guess I can see where you’re coming from.”

He doesn’t respond to that. You can’t tell from his expression if he’s relieved or concerned. Minutes pass before he speaks again.

“You’re still my best friend, Coco. I hope you know that.”

You bite down on your lip harder, hoping the subtle pain distracts you from the influx of tears gathering in your eyes. Throat dense, tongue heavy, holding your breath because if you don’t, it’ll all come to a crumble. Before you lose it, you tap on the dial of the radio, turning it to increase the volume, not caring what song is playing anymore. Anything to get rid of the strained silence at the end of those words. For some reason, it hurts more than what he said last night.

He doesn’t continue and neither do you, him studying the road, you gazing at the evanescent glimmer of the ocean as you cross the bridge. Officially leaving Marley and entering Paradis, halfway to Stohess University. It was your top choice when you first started applying for college, and it became Reiner’s, too. And when you both received your acceptance letters, you were thrilled, and so was he. So much so that he ordered matching sweatshirts from the online store, ecstatic to let all his friends and family know that the two of you were going to Stohess, together. That part of your life, although not that long ago, seems like a dream. You’re wide awake now and the gut-wrenching reality of it all is settling in.

Finally on campus, you point him in the right direction towards your new dorm. He finds parking right in the front, reversing the car and backing into the spot. Turning off the ignition, he remains still, waiting for you. Without facing him, you announce, “I’m going to check in.”

He nods, looking down at his lap. “Okay. I’ll unload the car.”

After you check-in and receive your key, you make your way back to the Reiner, who’s already taken out most of your belongings from the trunk.

“I’m on the first floor, so I can take it from here,” you tell him, grabbing one of your suitcases.

“I’ll help you. It won’t take long.”

You don’t argue, swinging another bag over your shoulder and leading him to Room 104. You unlock the door, relieved that it’s still empty. Not ready to face Annie, your roommate, just yet. Reiner helps move your heaviest items, the mini fridge and a box of clothes and shoes. When everything has been pushed into the room, you both stand around, hands on your hips, waiting for the other to speak first.

“Thanks for your help,” you start. “I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I’ll help you with your stuff now,” you offer, grabbing your keys from the desk.

“No, it’s okay. I’m sure there will be some brothers there to help me.” He’s moving into the frat house on Greek Row, a few minutes’ walk from the sophomore’s dorms. Last year, the two of you lived in the same building, one floor apart from each other. It seems symbolic the way you’re separated this year.

“Anyways, I should get going,” he says, running his fingers through his hair.

“Sure.” You consider stalling by asking him to help you unpack, but you decide not to.

He looks at you, sadness in his eyes. For the first time all day, you finally meet his gaze, the lump in your throat returning. Stepping towards you, arms out, he embraces you, wrapping you snug in one of his signature bear hugs. “I love you, Coco. I really do. This is just something I have to do.”

You keep your arms to your side, nestling your face into his chest, memorizing the familiar scent of his t-shirt, tears soaking through the fabric. If you return his embrace, you’re certain you won’t want to let him go.

He kisses you on top of the head, giving you one last squeeze. Then, without another word, he walks out of your room, leaving you alone.

Taglist: @batafuraikisu @bloompompom @monirei @filunara @katestrophes @ichinosejager13 @hoperenae @zellskz @e-ayyy @liliorsstuff-blog

#eren jaeger #reiner braun #eren x you #eren x reader #eren x y/n #reiner x you #reiner x y/n #reiner x reader #aot fanfiction #reiner smut #aot x reader #attack on titan smut #eventual eren smut #eren smut #aot smut #give you blue #reiner braun smut #eren jaeger smut

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piratekane · 5 months

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what r some of ur fav kacy moments?

a FANTASTIC question. here's a top ten in no particular order:

the parking lot scene. kate is not the bad guy! let's kiss under the parking lot lights! they did not go get that beer and i love that for them.

that one scene in season 3 where kate is bringing ernie mochi and lucy says that kate is looking fantastic today. something about that whole interaction just... got me. the grin on lucy's face. the way kate smiles back over her shoulder. pls tell me about your acting choices and why they made that 15 second scene endearing.

first date reenactment. those freakin dorks, i swear to god. kate's "well, i don't seem like a lot of things" lives rent-free in my head.

OF COURSE the scene in 3x04 where they have to dip into that storeroom to avoid the bad guy and they're, like, 2 inches away from each other. maybe i've watched that a few times.

the first kiss in the pilot. i'm split equally between the original airing with the smash cut kiss and the extended scene because i originally thought that lucy initiated the kiss, but finding out that kate was the one... mind-blowing.

the 2x01 episode kisses (plural!) because i love domestic kacy. i could write about that allllll day. i was not expecting lucy to straight up (ha) get into kate's lap at the outro of that episode. sigh. that was such an opening episode.

kate waiting at lucy's desk in 1x10 after the whole finger business. i just loved how kate said she was more comfortable with things at dinner and then just casually sits at lucy's desk waiting for her to come back (which is why 1x11 is so fucking crushing).

the scene in that episode in season 2 where lucy is helping Joe, the sailor with the memory problem. and joe elbows her in the jaw and lucy and kate are in the kitchen in the office and kate is snippy because she's worried. i'm not mad kate says, definitely not happy.

and speaking of lucy being beat up... the scene in 1x07 (? maybe) where lucy agrees that secrets can be fun and kate ducks her head and says something like, "want to tell me more about secerts" or whatever (i am not searching for the lingo, sorry). like, goodness. kate. relax.

the 'move in' scene where kate is so far behind on the conversation and she's just blinking as lucy explodes. i love a good "why are we fighting?" "we're not!" in shouty volumes and then the break in the tension where they realize they're definitely arguing scene. and they did this one perfectly.

okay, that was a nice little walk through my mind. now i need to go watch all these scenes (shoutout to the people who upload their scenes to youtube, they're the real ones).

#kacy #ncis: hawai'i #this was fun to think about thank you anon #now i want to go watch them and write them and i am a little sad again but i will go do something else #maybe read

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yuikomorii · 11 months

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Is it me or does Laito think Ayato and Yui are similar? I don’t mean it only in Ayato’s routes but in Laito’s ones it can be seen how he starts feeling disgusting when these two try to show that they care about him and so on. Sorry if I didn’t express myself correctly, I hope you got my point tho.

// That's right, given that Laito secretly envies purity, and both Ayato and Yui are the embodiment of it in his eyes, which triggers him.

Laito is a very complicated person… he has a hard time believing in genuine kindness, therefore he may find it repulsive.

There's a moment in Laito's LE route where Yui mentions that kindness was the reason of Ayato’s actions, but Laito was so close to genuinely vomit when he heard that.

Laito admits in the VERSUS CD that he envies how upright and pure Ayato is (first pic). While it’s true that he shouldn’t have overlooked Ayato’s trauma for centuries, I somewhat get why he had such a resentment against him. Of course, Ayato was not at fault for being that way, but I really doubt it's simple to accept that your brother is actually the person YOU wished to be.

Purity is seen as a perfect virtue, Ayato is even described by Rejet (second pic) as someone whose true face is represented by his pure heart. On the other hand, Laito is the polar opposite. He’s anything but pure and he hates that. He is aware that due to Cordelia corrupting his mindset, such a trait is unattainable.

As for Yui, even if all those bad things didn’t happen in the same timeline, it must still hurt suddenly being sent by your own father to a mansion full of vampires, who need to feed off you to survive. Yui's continued positivity and ability to see the good in everyone (even when not romancing them) in spite of these circumstances speaks volumes about how pure her heart is too.

In LE, Laito acknowledged that he projected his frustrations on both Ayato and Yui. Nevertheless, a part of him knew that the two of them would forgive him anyway because, well… that’s how Ayato and Yui are. They’re famous for forgiving and empathizing with those who have hurt them and nobody can change that.

I also really like the parallel they pulled in these scenes. It’s just so precious how both Ayato and Yui would accept Laito no matter what and that truly highlights their purity of heart.

Translations belong to: dialovers-translations on Tumblr

Laito's personal growth and realization that he matters and is not alone was one of the very few positive things of LE. I’m glad they decided to write about this aspect of Laito and Ayato’s relationship, as well as trying to make Yui understand Laito more and vice versa.

Unfortunately, they had to give him that questionable good ending, which essentially erased all the progress, BUT leaving that aside, the characters who are the most aware of each other’s true side are without a doubt Ayato and Laito.

#diabolik lovers #laito sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #yui komori #dialovers #admin

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hollandsangel · 7 months

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HI MADDIE HI HI MY LOVE<3 ok firstly blog theme EATS? hello i need your level of talent and skill.

ok hear me out a lil, but steve harrington x reader, hurt/comfort after the part in season 1 (season 2? i cant remember 😭), but with the demodogs. just reader being all soft and comforting with steve who reciprocates and they just sorta tend to each other would be so cute (maybe hes just a lil aggravated about the entire situation and reader is his anchor almost)

mwah loveu love u <333 (soryr this is sorta bad but !!! been thinking abt it a lil latellyyy)

hey hot stuff!! pinterest actually gets all the credit for my theme. i love her. i also had no idea what scene you were talking about LOL so i kinda made one up!! timeframe is NOT canon at all but its angsty and filled with comfort i swear, enjoyyyyyy my sweet amber. not proof read bc we die like men

⇘ ⇘ ⇘

steve won’t stop fidgeting in the drivers seat, fiddling with the signal indicator and volume controls. you feel just about the same, and you’re sure the kids do too, the back seat dead silent, their shoulders touching and all of them refusing to move away from the other.

“you’re shaking,” you whisper, afraid to use too much volume in your voice, like the glass ceiling of the silence will shatter and cut you if you do. you reach out to smooth your hand down steve’s shoulder, a comforting motion you’ve performed countless times before. he flinches at the movement and you hand stops dead in the air.

“m sorry,” he mumbles, voice rough and throat scratchy.

you watch him draw in a deep breath, deeper than you think he’s breathed in three days.

“i’m sorry, sweetheart, i’m sorry,” he says it again, glancing over at you but only for a second, like it hurts to see you.

“it’s okay,” you’re still speaking hushed tones, turning back to find max and lucas sleeping against one another, dustin staring out the window mindlessly.

“we’re almost at nancy’s,” steve swallows, “eddie’s gonna meet us there.” his grip on the steering wheel is too tight and his jaw is clenched. he forces himself to swallow.

“steve…” he lets you touch him this time and you feel a tiny sense of triumph when he relaxes slightly, melts into the feel of your fingertips on the back of his neck. he’s so cold. goosebumps raise on his skin.

“i can’t stop seeing it,” is his response, “the corpse is still in the fucking freezer,” he nearly gasps when he says it, like the mental image itself takes his breath away.

“i know baby, me either,” steve finally looks at you and you regret letting the tears well up in your eyes because his face falls when he notices.

“hey–” he starts but you shake your head and press your fingertips from your other hand into your eyes.

“i’m okay, i promise,”

“but i–” you know what he’s gonna say, something self deprecating about how he wasn’t fast enough, or strong enough, or did a bad job keeping you safe.

“you protected them,” you remind him, breathing a little easier when his eyes flick up to the rearview mirror to look at the kids. safe and sound in the back of the beamer, the heat cranked a little too high but it’s so much nicer than the bone chilling temperatures of the upside down. “and you protected me,” you reach up to push his hair away from his eyes, staying mindful of the cut by his eyebrow.

“we’re okay?” he doesn’t mean for it to be a question but it is. he means to confirm for himself, but really he needs you to do it for him.

“we’re okay,” you nod, and then you say it again.

“we’re okay.”

#steven #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington drabble #steve req

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slickchickchocolatier · 1 year

Note

can you do y/n sending heethan a moaning audio?🫶🫶

"The Sweet Sound of Wind Chimes..."

Warnings: yeah this is like full on porn. its nearly pure smut but its really good...probably the most detailed (or one of the most) detailed smut scenes i've written (def the most for a drabble/request) so here it is. ;) there is mentions of murder, hints of violence and ofc, theres the crazed obsession that our man has for his y/n. (yandere life) also if you know me or are familiar with my works, like most of them, this isnt proofread. sorry.

“Huh, she sent me an audio?” Heeseung thought to himself as he adjusted the volume in his car. With the bluetooth connected, he pushes play and the vibrating beat of your voice echoes through his car. You were moaning. You were whimpering. You were biting your lip and gasping near the end of the audio bit. Just what were you doing when you made this? You were in class, at least....that's where he dropped you off five minutes ago.

But oh the sound was addicting. it was music to his ears, fact, he replayed the audio over and over again. He couldn't get enough.

"Fuck......" he whispers out.

"Another one?" Heeseung mentally noted as his thumb hovers over the play button. "Sweet death come to me....."

The delightful sound of your wind-chime voice reaches a pitch high enough to break glass, but it was so soothing and angelic. The way your tone soared through like a spear and punctured his ears as you gasped out and whined, the very same sound you make when he.....

*knock knock*

Turning his head slowly, not even startled by the interruption, Heeseung faces the opposite window, and sees Jake. Rolling down the window, Jake pops his head in as he greets his best friend.

"Hey man, you coming in? Class is about to start."

Heeseung merely looked at Jake for a moment, causing the man to form a confused smirk as he starts to recognize that lustful shine in Heeseung's eye.

"Ah, you're thinking about y/n again. Well today is a short day so you'll see her soon. Lets go man."

Still looking at Jake with soulless eyes, Heeseung simply places his phone down and starts his car back up.

"Hey, are you leaving??" Jake utters as he steps back from the car. With the window still rolled down, Heeseung speaks out as he starts to back out of the parking space.

"I'm taking an administrative delay, i'll be in later. Tell the professors for me."

Chuckling, Jake waves goodbye as Heeseung drives off.

....................

Lonesomely, you stand in the locker room. Leaned onto the row of the steel doors, you rest your hip and shoulder against the lockers while your fingers remained under the skirt of your dress. The straps coming loose and draping down over your shoulders, with the tie string in the front undone, exposing more of the supple curves of your cleavage. Tilting your head against the locker, you become zoned out as the thought of Heeseung....and Ethan slamming into you was too much to bear just in thought. Perhaps you were close to ovulating? Why were the thoughts so strong this time around? Flipping over towards your side, you leaned more inward with half your chest pressing against the steel wall. So engrossed with the image of him thrusting into you, you bit down on your lip hard as you further craved for him, causing you to moan and whimper aloud.

"Mmm...uuuuuuugh......"

"i'm here baby."

his deep voice emerged from behind, startling you yet his immediate grasp around your waist snapped you right back into the filthy mindset you had just seconds before he snuck up on you.

"He...Heeseung."

"Shhhh...i'm going to fix it." with his traditional saying, he tugs you inward and pushes you up against the lockers, causing your chest and breasts smashing against the steel doors. Your hands reach up and become plastered, palm on the cold metal as you stabilize yourself, perking your rear up and curving your lower back at a distinct arch. You were ready.

Scooting your dress up, he collects the pretty floral material to coil around your waist as he smooths his hands around the most narrow part, just above your hip. You felt so soft....you always felt soft.

His thumbs extend over and circulates around your rear cheeks. Your derriere was large, bouncy, and supple, just the way he liked it. It always amazed him, how you could keep your ass so perky and large, round, and buoyant, yet he's never seen you do squats to enlarge it. Guess you were just built perfectly.....for him.

Leaning his chest over your back, his nose caresses your ear as he licks inside of it, nibbling on the lobe, causing you to whine like a child. "tell me what you want, pretty baby...." his voice started to transition, he was merging to his Ethan side, becoming half and half.

"mmm....." you moaned out.

"I said tell me."

"F-fuck....fuck me.....Heeseung fuck me......"

"ahh...very good."

With his member poking out of the opening in his trousers, he slides the large length in between your cheeks, poking the head out from above as he squeezes your rear to hug the shaft. Thrusting slowly, he continues to hug his length with your plump bottom, watching as the tip extends out in the open.

The feeling of him fucking your rear cheeks was immensely pleasurable and painful, it had caused your yearning state to soar through the tip of your burning desire and you nearly cried, you were reaching a breaking point.

"ugh! please!! please!! please!!" you begged.

"You gonna talk dirty for me?"

"yes! Yes!!"

"you gonna be nasty?"

"yes!"

"yeah? you sure?"

"Yes! please!...i'll do whatever you want...just please......i-inside....."

"mmhmm..." he deeply chuckles as he feeds the tip into your entry, yet unlike all the other times, he decided to toy with you just a little more. Once the bulging tip was inside, he rests and keeps it at the base of your opening, refraining from sliding the remainder of his length in...though it was extremely hard for him to do. With a shaky groan, he releases an unsteady breath as he smirks and continues to tease you.

"Tell me......mm...fuck....tell me what you were thinking about when you sent me that audio....." he tilts his head back and winces his eyes shut upon feeling you squeezing his tip. His Adam's Apple exposed fully as he faces the ceiling.

"Ttttthinking...thinking about....y-you.......fffffffucking me......mmmm fuck me......" you stuttered out as you started to move your hips back and forth. As soon as you started moving, his grip around your waist tightened as he pushes you forward, furthering meshing you against the steel wall to hold you steady. Your cheek pressed up against the cool surface, with your hands remaining propped up against the wall as your cleavage squeezes against said surface and becomes overly plump from the pressure.

"Yeah? what else?" he deeply chokes out as he slides a couple inches inside.

"Ugh! more! more!"

"Tell me what else then."

"fucking....fucking me hard.......cumming...cumming inside.....lots....lots of cum....i want it..i want it all..." moaning a mess of words, you tilted your head back, allowing your hair to drape down and reaching his finger tips, which he delightfully coiled around as he maintained his grasp around your waist. With his thumbs stroking the indented curve and lining of your back, formed by the arch, his soft and tender notion appeals to you as he continues.

"my pretty baby wants it all?"

"yes...yes!!"

"you dont want to share with anyone, do you?"

"no! NO!"

"and you dont want me to share you with anyone, right?"

"No..no sharing....no sharing!"

"You belong to me, and i belong to you, right?"

"yes! Yes!"

Inch by inch, he slowly slides in the remainder of his length. "You're all mine? You gonna follow my rules and only be mine? You gonna eat, sleep, taste, dream, smell, and breathe only me for the rest of your life?"

"yes! Yes! oh my god yes! mmmm please!"

"say it. say that i'm your everything...."

"yo-you're my everything! my everything!" your voice reaching a high pitch and cracking near the last bit, he was so close to fully feeding his dick inside, you could feel the base of his groin against your rear cheeks.

"you know you're my everything?"

"yes!"

"You know i would do anything for you?"

"Yes!"

Reaching a hand up and around your neck, he pulls your head back to rest against his chest. Burying his mouth into your ear, he whispers....

"You know i'll kill anyone if they ever touch or look at you?"

"yess........yes......" you moaned out. You knew that he wasn't bluffing, he killed before and you believe he'd kill again....all because the man was insanely obsessed with you. you were his and his alone. while his demeanor and actions would scare others, it thrilled and fed your deepest and wildest desires. because of this man, you were saved from the ugliness of the world countless times....because he loved you.

"you like that....dont you?" he smirks as he starts to thrust in more, his base reaching and closing in against your taint.

"yessssss...."

"you like it when the monster comes out?"

"yes......"

"you like it when the monster bites?"

"yes."

"you like it when the monster feeds, sucks, and fucks you?"

"yes!"

Extending his fingers out, and delicately wrapping them around your throat, all in a graceful notion, he bucks his hips, finally.

"ugh! Oh my God!!!" you reach behind and slap your hand against his thigh from the powerful sensation of him burying his cock deep....so deep inside you. Sliding it out, his tip near the opening, before he slams it back in, puncturing that sweet spot.

"UGH!!!! HEESEUNG!!!"

"Heethan baby....." he corrects you, as his lips remained plastered against your ear, whispering deeply and licking your helix.

Picking up the pace, you surrendered fully as you reach up and attempt to pull his hand off your throat, allowing you to lean forward so you could rest against the wall once more. "please..please let me....let me move...let me move.....c-cant....cant stand....ugh!"

Honoring your wish, he lets go of your neck and lets you nearly fall forward as your hands catch your fall and becomes plastered against the steel wall once more. His hand smooths over your back and pushes down on the lower bit, forcing you to perk your rear up.

"Ass up pretty."

Slightly leaned in towards your tip toes, you perk your derriere up and increased the exposure of your womanhood as he gains a clear view of his throbbing and swollen member thrusting in and out of your opening, skin on skin melting with eachother, creating a mixture of fluids, yours and his.

Thrusting faster and faster, he fucks you harder than you had imagined, it felt so good...too good. the sound of the lockers rattling and shaking as he slams into you, pelts his hip against your ass as his groin slaps against the skin of your suppled cheeks, staining them pink and red from each hit.

"mmmmmmmfuck!!!" you screamed out as your body bounces back and forth, your breasts jolting in quick motions as they jiggle from his high momentum.

"yeah? you fucking like that dont you?" he scoffs out. "touch it baby."

Doing as he bids, you reach in between your legs and caressed the part of his shaft that remained exposed with your two fingers, rubbing it vigorously as he continues to pump the remaining inches inside you, squelching the juices in and out.

Dripping, you felt the essence of his labor and your desire trailing down your leg.

"Oh? Pretty baby looks like she wants to become a mommy." he teases as he thrusts even harder, pull you back up and into him as he had done before.

"ugh! ugh! plllllllleease!" you moaned out as you grab onto his arm, which was swooped around your neck, placing you in a gentle chokehold. Your throat rests against his inner elbow, as his hand reaches your ear, where he gently moves the hair away and buries his face in once more. With you nearly standing upright, back plastered against his chest, his thrusts goes in straight and upwards, trailing in deeper than before, the momentum was so strong, it caused your body to become lifted as you shift back and forth between your tip toes from the slight bit of levitation, all due to his thrusting force.

"ugh! ugh! ugh!"

"yeah, fucking moan some more you pretty thing." he darkly whispers as he increases his pace.

"ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh-ugh!" your moans increased to match his momentum.

"you ready to get pregnant?"

"yes! yes! yes! fuck me! heethan fuck me!" you gasped out repeatedly, your voice airy and light as the pleasured tears stream down your face, exposing how fucked out you looked from taking him in repeatedly. "please......please cum...cum...inside...please fuck me and cum inside..." you begged. Just as you finished uttering out your words, he wraps his arms around your waist and lifts your body entirely off the ground, with his shaft still nestled inside.

"ahhhh!!!" screaming out from the shock of being fully levitated in his grasp, not to mention how deep his shaft went in upon lifting your weight, he flings you over behind against the other wall, where a bench nearby was stationed. Not once did his throbbing member exit out of your cavity, his finesse was so above reproach, he could effortlessly move you without ever breaking contact. Lifting your leg by swooping his hand under your kneecap, he places it on the bench as he leans you forward against the tile wall, while simultaneously pulling your rear closer to him.

the repeated slapping of skin fills the entire locker room, he went even faster. His dick looked as if he was melting into your opening as the blurred view of your skin meshing with his becomes the highlight of his day. You became even more wet, allowing him to slide in and out easily as he goes in faster, deeper, and harder.

"ugh! i'm-i'm gonna cum!"

"cum with me baby." he gasps out in a deep groan as he reaches up and places a hand on your shoulder, while the other firmly grabs onto the side of your waist. He was both, pulling you in and holding you steady.

"cum for me, and i'll cum for you......"

tapping against your sweet spot, along with the feeling of his thick shaft in between your thighs as he thrusts in, you snapped. Screaming out, your walls gyrate and your thighs and rear cheeks shake vigorously.

"oh shit....." he gasps out, softly smiling at the view before him. Your body was losing control, jolting in all directions. Had it not been for his grab on you, you would have broken contact, yet he remained you steady so that he could finish.

Seeping inside, he releases every last bit of his seeds inside your belly, slowing down his thrusts as he catches his breath. with your body still jerking from the immense orgasm, he rubs his fingers up and down to coo you, calming your nerves and your heart rate.

"theeeeeeere.......good girl......shhhh..." he whispers out as he thrusts in slowly......slooooooowly.....

whimpering from the feeling of his thick member entering and re-entering, your body begins to go limp as your hands drag down from the tile wall. Catching you by reaching around and palming the center of your chest, he flings you up and against him, sitting you down on his lap as he takes his seat on the bench behind. Leaving his thick cock inside you, he keeps your legs slightly wide open as he rests your back against your chest, your hair plastered on your skin from the bit of sweat accumulated by the performance, he hugs you around your waist. Kissing your ear, he softly and gently repeats his pecks as you drift off into a blissful slumber, keeping his shaft nestled and warm in between your walls as he takes his time to recover. Once you were out cold, he chuckles to himself as he lifts your hand and admires your fingers.

"ah fuck baby......the effect you have on me.....even if its just the sound of your voice, you have a way about you that makes the monster hungry."

Enjoyed this piece? Show love and treat your girl to a cup of coffee. ♥️ ☕ Ko-fi: ko-fi.com/reinbow

#heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #enha x reader #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung hard hours #heeseung fanfic #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #enha heeseung #yandere heeseung imagines #yandere heeseung #heeseung yandere

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lackadaisicallizard · 1 year

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hello! in tlg, there's a scene of reg learning hindi for james, but never one of james finding out; how do you think that went?

Ooh yes that! Them learning each other’s languages is so special to me.

Please bear with me because I don’t speak Hindi (or French), but this is how it went:

The Long Game

An additional scene

“Come on you bastard,” James shouts at the TV, his voice double the volume of any reasonable human in an enclosed area.

Regulus is sitting sideways on the sofa, leaning against the arm with his legs resting in James’ lap. He looks up from his book; even after eight months together, his boyfriend’s ability to be completely enraptured by people running up and down a field truly puzzles him.

Sure Regulus looks at the screen every now and then, but he’d be lying if he said it was for anything but the close ups of fit players in shorts.

“Are you wining?” Regulus asks.

“Not if Erling Haaland can’t kick a ball straight for once in his fucking life.”

Regulus raises his eyebrows, doing nothing to keep the smile off his face. James’ eyes are still glued to the screen, and quite frankly his whole energy right now is really rather attractive. There’s not a lot that can make James angry, and his set jaw and piercing eyes are a sight that makes Regulus want to make him forget there’s a game on at all.

He’d never do that though, he knows how much it means to the older boy, and so he makes himself content with just watching the emotions play across his face.

The other team scores a goal then and all hell breaks loose. Regulus is fairly sure he hasn’t heard that much profanity come out of one person’s mouth in his entire life.

Effie appears in the doorway then, her hands on her hips.

“James, dhang se bolo aur chillao mat. I know you’re an adult but this is still my house.”

James has the decency to look apologetic. Even with a game on, he can’t ignore his mum.

“Sorry, Mum. We’re losing.”

“Phir bhi, gaaliyan kam se kam honi chahiye, theekhe?”

James shrugs, “Main koshish karunga.”

She looks disapprovingly at her son.

“I’ll make sure he does more than try, Effie,” Regulus promises.

Effie smiles at that. “This is why you’re my favourite. Use shaitaani karne se rokna.”

“Ek namumkin kaam,” Regulus comments.

Effie laughs. “You’re not wrong there.” She gives James one last stern look before disappearing back down the hallway.

Regulus goes to read his book again but feels James’ eyes on him. He looks up to see a look of complete disbelief.

“What?”

“You just spoke to my mum.”

Regulus’ mouth twitches. “Is that not allowed?”

“Regulus.”

“Yes?”

“You understood and spoke to her in perfect Hindi.”

Regulus is properly smiling now. “Is that a problem?”

There’s a moment of silence and Regulus can almost see the whirring of James’ brain. He then splits into a wide grin, the warmth spreading to his eyes almost immediately.

“You learned Hindi for me?”

“You learned French for me.”

James shakes his head, his expression soft. “I love you so much, Regulus Black.”

The older boy puts his hands on Regulus’ knees before leaning in, waiting for him to lean forward and meet him halfway. Regulus does so gladly, his love for James warm on his lips.

“Say it in French,” Regulus says, voice low.

James’ smile is back. “Je t’aime chaque jour davantage.”

Regulus takes his hand as he speaks. “Mai tumse humesha pyaar karunga.”

“Only forever? That’s not nearly long enough.”

And Regulus kisses him, because how else is he supposed to respond to that? Especially when he agrees. Forever is not long enough to love James Potter.

As they pull apart again James speaks. “Regulus, I love you so much and you learning Hindi for me means the absolute world and we will definitely come back to this moment, but-“

“James-” Regulus interrupts and James pauses in his rambling. Regulus smiles. “You can get back to the game, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ll have plenty of time later to seduce you in multiple languages.”

James takes an audible deep breath. “Fuck me, I’m so lucky.”

“Don’t forget it,” Regulus winks at him before picking up his book again, settling back down on the sofa as he does so.

“Regulus.” James asks just before his attention is once again consumed by football.

“Mm?”

“We can talk about Sirius while he’s in the room now.”

And oh, the French and the Hindi is sexy, but that suggestion? Well, that’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard.

#marauders #james potter #jegulus #regulus black #please forgive me for the translations #I’m doing my best

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princessleechan · 8 months

Text

“Choi Seungcheol must die” Chapter 30 + [BONUS 18+ WRITTEN SCENE]

Masterlist

📌chapter tags: MDNI, SMAU, inspired by “John tucker must die”, John tucker!seungcheol, college au, revenge fic, written scene under cute (2.6k w.c.) smut tags under cut off, lost friends, mystery mornings, and heart been broke so many times i....

Thank you @highvern for helping me out a bit!

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Warning: Virgin sex, awkward sex, fingering, banter

Although things go according to plan, nothing prepared you for the events that would transpire the rest of that night.

You don't expect to find comfort in the person you've been bickering with for the better half of the last few months, and you can say the same about finding him drowning in his heartbroken sobs. His typical snarky demeanor decidedly gives way to a gentler, more subdued tone. It speaks volumes, underscoring that beneath even the fiercest of faces lies a simple, human vulnerability.

"Sorry, this is the first place I could think of. I just wanted to get out there."

Chan's apartment is cozy; fit for two people–barely–and has everything you could possibly need. The bare essentials like dish soap and nothing more.

Heading straight for the kitchen sink, Chan lets the faucet run, capturing the cold stream in his cupped hands. His damp palms collide against his face, washing away the evidence of his anguish. His fingers rip through his hair, locks clumping together in damp ropes; heartache radiating through the quiet space.

"It's alright. I wouldn't have been able to provide somewhere good either. Head's kind of all over the place," you respond, softly chuckling.

He turns towards you, cheekbones glistening under the play of water and fluorescent lighting. His lips curve into a subtle smile, a sight that retains its beauty amid the unfolding turn of events. "I get the feeling."

"It's funny," You muse, absentmindedly surveying the intricate details of his residence, each corner telling a story of his history living here. "We hardly see each other in person, having only ever texted, and now I'm in your apartment."

"Yeah? I guess it's kind of funny. Funnier than the shit we saw today."

The image briefly flashes in your mind before you dismiss it, shaking your head like an etch-a-sketch. "I’m surprised you saw that. Yeah, um, that could've gone better. Things got a bit theatrical because of it."

"I liked it," Chan shrugs, crossing his arms and leaning against the kitchen counter, "He got what he deserved and I stand by that."

"You would," you jest, slowly approaching him. "Haru must really have a hold on you."

He reveals a bittersweet smile. "Yeah, she does."

"Damn, things are really messed up," you express in disbelief. "What’ll happen now? We return to our normal lives and pretend this didn’t happen while Seungcheol’s in shambles?"

"Well," he responds, pushing off from the marble surface and shuffling into the living room. "I always figure Haru will eventually see the truth that he was just some guy not cut out for her. Show her that the guy meant for her is closer than you think, you know? Me."

"And then Jun…"

His chin jerks as you approach him. "It's never been me. No matter how many times I’ve tried convincing her. And I was so sure it’d turn around this time."

"I thought Jun and I would have something," you fiddle with your fingers, "I didn't know how off I was. Like I never even had a chance."

Chan shakes his head in disbelief. "How did things end up like this? Feels like we're stuck in some bad romantic comedy where everyone's paired up with the wrong person."

You shrug, "I wish I knew."

"To think that we were the ones who could have benefited the most from this, only for it to fail, huh?"

"We're a pathetic pair, aren't we?" You laugh bitterly.

He echoes your laughter. "Yeah…"

At that moment, your eyes exchange a blend of empathy, a silent understanding of the disappointment you both are consumed by in that moment; an unspoken acknowledgment of how awry your lives have become.

"It's crazy that he met someone like you," he admits, avoiding your eyes.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, you're beautiful," he looks up, his gaze sincere. "Even before all the scheming. It's surprising Jun didn't try to approach you first."

Heat creeps against your cheeks, flustered by his honesty. "Maybe that would've changed things, hmm?"

"Maybe," he smiles. "I'm sorry things didn't go as planned… and I'm sorry that I blew up on you before."

You shake your head, a mixture of understanding and regret in your expression. "You didn't mean it. We were both hurt and devastated… I suppose I projected that onto Seungcheol when I had the chance."

"And it's amazing, the best expression I see on his face. He looked human for once," he adds with a light-hearted chuckle.

"Still, I feel a little bad. Maybe I was kind of harsh. I was just so…"

"Frustrated? That everything you worked towards didn’t go exactly how you want?"

"Yeah. I admit that my feelings right now are a little jumbled up, but I still really like him.."

"Maybe this was a sign for both of us to move different paths. Do something we otherwise wouldn’t do to…get over this?"

You tilt your head curiously. "Do you think we can actually do that?"

“I think you can.” He shrugs, crossing his arms. "I, on the other hand, might take some time."

You extend an open palm toward him. "Shake on it? That we’ll move forward from this."

Chuckling at the ridiculous offer, he reaches out and accepts your hand, fingers curling around yours with a gentle, reassuring grip. The warmth of your hand melds seamlessly with his own, sending a subtle shiver down your spine. You notice how his palm envelops your slightly smaller one, a natural alignment that feels surprisingly right.

When you look up, a subconscious voice prods you with questions threatening the gravity of this premature pact. And all of a sudden, things escalate from there in the blink of an eye. You could never explain how your mouth ends up on his; too lost in the softness of his lips to wonder how it can feel so natural.

For a fleeting moment, Chan snaps out of his trance, distancing himself with his hands planted on your shoulders. His eyes search for answers, blinking frantically as if committing sin for the first time. "W-What are you doing?"

"I-I don't know. I thought maybe this is what you had meant?"

"No, not exactly, but—"

"Do you not want to? Did I make it weird?"

"No, I–,” he pauses to think, lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. “I've never had someone kiss me like that before. I'm not really sure how to process it."

"Well, you can reject me, and I can move on?" you tease, tension thick in the atmosphere.

He shakes his head with parted lips, rapidly closing the space between you with sudden determination. “Instead…”

His mouth meets yours cautiously before chasing after your pace; hands finding your body eagerly, cataloging your figure for the first time. The coolness of your exposed skin registers beneath his fingertips, palms gliding across your soft curves.

You lean into him, softly moaning as your lips part open, and you taste his experimentation. When your hand finds the wet tips of his hair, you comb through from behind, deepening your union before stumbling backward into the single sofa.

Before you could clumsily fall backward, Chan claims your hip to pull you out of the way, only to clutch you like a personal vice. You're startled, releasing from him momentarily to read his intentions, and instead finding him dazed and disoriented.

“Wait, what are we doing?” You ask sincerely, catching your breath.

Chan ponders your question slowly and a metaphorical lightbulb flashes above his head before he blurts out, “I’m a virgin!”

Your eyes slightly widen, taken back by the words coming from his lips. “I didn’t mean—I mean me too, but you probably figured that out.”

His eyes grow as big as saucers. “I don’t know why I said that, that’s not probably what this was—“

“It can be,” you look down, batting your eyes, “If that’s what you wanted?”

“Is that what you wanted?”

You look back up, gulping down a lump in your throat. “I wouldn’t mind it.”

“Are you sure? Swapping virginities?”

You groan. “Swapping—god, what are you in? High school?”

“It’s a serious question,” he answers defensively, “I don’t wanna be—I don’t wanna put you in a position that makes you uncomfortable. It should be something we both want.”

You nod gingerly, “I want to.”

“Really?”

“Mmh-hmm.”

He squints at you. “You haven’t been drinking—“

“No I haven’t,” you interject, irritation simmering beneath your reply from all the questions.

“So we’re really doing this? And you don’t think you’ll back down?”

His shirt wrinkles in your hold, forcing him to meet your eyes as you assert, “We deserve this more than anyone.”

You feel like a pair of sloppy sexually deprived teenagers.

Everything feels new the moment you enter his bedroom, glued to one another like flies in a sugar trap. Clumsily, Chan manages to tug off his shirt and press his bare, taut torso against you; every inch of his skin blistering against your own.

You gasp as he crowds you onto the bed with the simple maneuvering of his lips, urging you to lower yourself into the comfort of his worn-in scent in his sheets. He crawls over you, arms bracketing your figure and backing you up against the bed frame before he escapes your liplock. You finally look at him; sweat kissing his forehead, pink heat covering his entire body, and his erection almost bursting at the seams of his jeans.

You’ve never seen one so close before, unable to look away from its bold presence. Chan instinctively lowers his hands, blocking your view. The pink travels up to his ears and cheeks, lips quivering as he warns, “You’re staring.”

You swallow your nerves, “Well, you know. I’m…taking it all in.”

Chan snorts with amused laughter.

You roll your eyes, “Stop it.”

“You walked into that all on your own.”

“Just do the damn thing already.”

Chan’s moments of shock continue to expand. “You want it already? You don’t want, like, foreplay or anything?”

“I don’t know! I’ve never done this before.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s just make sure you’re wet enough. So uh, do I have permission to undress you?”

You feign a semblance of confidence, hoping to mask the underlying apprehension. “Y-yeah, whatever.”

He leans in to reach for the zipper on the back of your top, gradually sliding it down. The cool touch of the metal ghosts along your spine, sending shivers cascading through your entire body. Holding on to your gaze, you watch as he finishes laying you bare and tosses the articles of clothing aside. Chan takes his time marveling, noting every blemish and curve, retaining it to his memory bank and he grins. “You really are beautiful.”

“Shut up,” you huff before kicking him gently.

He laughs into your lips before moving on to your bottoms and slipping the fabric down past your legs. You can tell his gaze shifts facing you only in your underwear, like crossing foreign territory, Chan seems hesitant to tread lines. “You’ll tell me if somethings wrong, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Okay, I’m going in now.”

“Alright.”

His hand lingers to the height of his chest. “Here I go, with my fingers—oh do you give me consent—“

“Yes! I give you consent. Just please hurry up.” You wince. “I’m nervous enough as is, but I trust you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Finally, his hands make it underneath your underwear, finding your wet fold immediately.

You quietly gasp, “Oh, well that’s really new.”

He looks back up at you curiously. “If I fuck up—“

“I’ll tell you,” you reassure.

“Right. Okay.” Chan says more to himself than you.

He presses two fingers against your slit, letting them sink in soak in your arousal. His gaze fills with anticipation as he watches your reaction each pass of his fingers discovering more and more. His digits move deeper inside, softly stroking you and massaging fluttering walls, earning a small squeak you attempt to silence with your fist.

“Did that hurt?”

You shake your head furiously.

“Then it felt good?”

A nod.

He gives a relieved smile. “Good.”

His thumb strokes above your heat, somehow finding the thing so many people joke about being impossible to locate, and Chan did. Out of all men.

The back of your head knocks against his bed frame, suppressing your moans behind closed lips.

“You like that too?” He asks, circling around the raised flesh.

You nod again more gingerly. “Yes…”

“Am I moving slow enough?”

“You can move faster…”

“Faster?”

“Mmh…”

“Okay.”

It takes some time before Chan finds a comfortable pace, but once he reaches it, you grow limp under his touch. Your eyes flutter in response, small gasps leaving you. You continue to shyly guide him. Faster, harder, deeper. And finally—

“Oh gosh,” you twist the sheets underneath you, “that’s so good, keep going.”

He does as you ask, moving at your desired tempo. You writhe uncontrollably, hips bucking to chase his fingers. Nothing could stop the expressions between your lips, calling his name without meaning to while heat festered all over your body. Pride blooms within him and he's determined to see you through.

His efforts are rewarded when he feels you clench around his fingers. As excitement fuels him, he lets his last thrusts penetrate the deepest they’ve gone, and he hears what a climax sounds like for the first time in person.

You distance yourself with an empty kick, taking in the overwhelming sensations before you letting yourself continue. “Chan, oh my god…”

“Was that…did I—“

“Yes, you idiot,” You move quickly, grabbing him by the back of his neck to reconnect, and dress down until there's nothing between you.

Your bodies become a singular system, forging an invisible bond.

His hand wraps around his exposed cock, generously stroking himself to grow bigger, harder, thick enough to assure your satisfaction. Bigger is always better, right?

“That hurts a little bit…” you resound honestly.

The tip of Chan’s cock hardly makes himself known at your entrance, adjusting to your untouched heat stretched around his size. He gently pulls out, rubbing the condom-covered tip against your dripping slit.

“Sorry.”

“It’s a good pain,” You clarify, “Just take it slow.”

“Okay.”

Gradually, Chan divulges deeper with your permission, hearing the bliss of your moans as you part way and give in to his length. You clutch his arm, steadying yourself with short breaths, counting the beat of your heart.

“It hurts?” He asks, eyes brimming with concern.

“I want it to move inside me.”

Chan swallows, forcing his attention back on the task at hand, stretching you out as he rolls his hips. He moans at your walls clenching around him, absorbed in the embrace that made him longingly ache for more.

You softly whimper, rolling your head back and accepting him, tensing up your lower body. “Mmh-hmm, so that’s what it feels like…”

“It’s good?”

“It’s the start of good.”

He scoffs, not too impressed by half-compliment. “Thanks?”

“W-we’re getting there. Are you ok?” You chuckle, feeling his length wedge deeper in your walls.

“I’m nervous, honestly,” He says, writhing. “But you feel really good.”

“So do you.”

Lowering down, he connects your lips with his smile, moving languidly as he rocks inside you. Your legs border his sides, claiming his shoulders and pressing yourself closer to him. Sighs slip between kisses with each desperate grind against his hips, pushing him deeper. The curve of your back harshens, fitting into his figure and taking every snap of his hips. The pad of your fingers digs into his flesh as you buck into him, his soft words of praise whispering into every liplock.

The end is blurred between shattered expectations and unspoken mourning. Between the sheets of his bed you connect again and again in hope to chase away the pain.

Navigating the realm of intimacy for the first time was expected to be awkward, and, in some ways, it was. However, with Chan, someone you find more like-minded than originally anticipated, a sense of comfort that alleviated the untamed anxious thoughts. You realize it’s what you needed these past couple of months.

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