#the lil cloud glasses too

[i-do-not-know-what-it-is]

gods im obsessed with them (I WANT TO BE THEM SO BAD)

[scudslut]

Sins and Honey Flavored Sweetness

daryl x fem!reader

wordcount: 4.7k

warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut under the cut, perv!daryl (not really, he just has a lil crush), male masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, oral f!receiving, mutual pining

a/n: i have never written something so descriptive ohmygod. do be warned lol, hugs and kisses byeee <33

Daryl knew there were unspoken boundaries when it came to you.

A thin line of loose salt, that whispered to him. Beckoned him huskily to dust his fingers through and have a taste, but daunting enough for him to keep his soles rooted in the dirt, salivating from a distance.

It wasn’t because you were already spoken for in any way; if anything, you kept your romantic interests simmering farther on the back burner than he did, which spoke volumes in itself. Or because you were younger than him, a couple of years wasn’t anything to turn a nose up over, especially nowadays.

It was, however, the place you held amongst your people. You were like bright, shiny gold within the group, dared not to be corrupted or led astray. The heart that kept everyone’s beating, even in the darkest of times, soothing hope into the atmosphere with your infectious smile.

Oh, and you were Rick's younger sister... which he hated to admit, only tempted him more. And he wasn’t quite sure as to why.

He’d mulled it over too many times to count, noting everything about you that allured him so intensely.

He liked the contrast between you two; like sun rays peeking through the clouds after a mid-summer storm. You were soft, fresh as clean linen and he was dark, brooding. He often fantasized about taking that sweet innocent nature of yours and painting it with his essence. He knew it was wrong and constantly shamed himself for having such perverted thoughts about his best friend's sister. But, god, how could he not?

Not when you pranced around him daily, teasing him with your velvety, feminine voice and kind touches. Touches that sent brisk shivers down his spine, sure to leave him breathless and bothered — another thing he secretly liked. You were addictive in that sense, he’d distance himself the minute he felt the familiar rush coursing through his veins and then crave it immediately once it was gone. A drug he couldn’t help but relapse from.

And it didn’t help that you were always so keen to assist him, doting on his every injury or problem with such gentle attentiveness and sincerity. That might be what he liked the most. It was fascinating how pure you remained in a world so plagued, always ready to nurture. It soothed a deep, restless, and scarred part of him, finding solace in it.

He'd come to learn you were like that with everyone though. So, he found himself grappling with things to deter your attention his way, playing dumb and clumsy just to have your sweet scent fill the nearby air. He felt like a horny teenager with a hopeless crush. It was absolutely ridiculous and yet, here he was once again, feet dangling off your kitchen counter as you searched the cabinets for some aspirin to aid in his 'headache'. 

It wasn't a complete lie per se - his sensitivity to light gave him troubles quite often but, whether it was enough to complain about or not, could be debated.

Nonetheless, he sat for you patiently, listening to your quiet humming as you searched about. He loved when you did that, singing your soft melodies under your breath mindlessly. It was such a girly thing to do, but it was comforting in a way, an airy blanket warming the silence.

"Ah, here it is!" drew him out of his thoughts, and he cast a glance at your bright smile of accomplishment. You popped the cap open swiftly, shaking out 2 little white pills, and handed them over with a glass of water.

“Let me know if you need any more. They should kick in soon, but I know how tough migraines can be,” you soothed, your sympathy never faltering. He bowed his head quickly, not wanting you to see the flash of guilt that surely crossed it. "Thanks," he mumbled as he tossed his head back, swallowing them both with a shivered grimace.

Wiping the water droplets from his chapped lips, his eyes found yours again and noticed a small smirk hidden in your features. “What?”  

You let out a chuckle, reaching for the glass he held to wash, “Oh nothin’... just don’t think I’ve seen you cringe like that before, is all.” 

His brows furrowed at your statement, “So?” he questioned further.

“Walkers, blood, rotting flesh… never. But an itty bitty pill?” Your laugh grew louder, finding the situation even more amusing as you explained it to him. “Whatever,” he scoffed, hopping off the counter with a smirk. He knew you would be expecting him to leave after that, you had helped him with his ‘issue of the day’ and there was no reason to linger any further. But he did.

Daryl scanned your frame as you washed the few dishes that were in the sink, chewing on his thumb habitually. You wore a white, long-sleeve shirt with a faded band logo printed on the front and some beaten-up blue jeans that seemed to cup your ass perfectly.

His mind wandered before he could stop it, imagining how soft and warm your skin must be underneath all those clothes. How soft and warm your hands would be wrapped around him, or better yet, your pretty lips taking him deep with a moan. He felt his own jeans tighten slightly and quickly diverted his gaze to the floor, clearing his throat as if it would erase those thoughts from his brain.

“Something else you need, Daryl?” You glanced over your shoulder, wrists deep in soapy water. 

“Nah, uh, thanks. I’ll see ya later,” he said and beelined for the door praying to god you didn’t see his flushed face and half-hard cock poking through his pants. He was so fucked. Couldn’t even look at you anymore without sprouting boners and picturing you on them, milking him greedily. 

He rushed down the porch and across the lawn, bursting into his shared house with Carol just next door. He didn’t even glance toward the kitchen to see if his friend was home, desperate for a cold shower to level him out. The house was dead quiet anyway, leading him to assume Carol was out for the day.

"Such a fuckin idiot," he cursed himself under his breath as he made his way down the stairs to his room. You probably knew honestly. Could tell how pathetically bothered you got him, and just put on a friendly face to keep from embarrassing him.

He left the bathroom door open in his distress and hastily shed his clothing, stepping into the tepid water. Immediate relief flooded his senses, feeling the cool stream wash away the sweat and grime the day had caked on. Pouring some homemade soap he was given into his hand, he scrubbed at his skin, determined to rid himself of your previous interaction along with the dirty thoughts that plagued his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about you that way, it just wasn’t in the cards.

For starters, you would have to want him too, (which he knew would never happen), and even if you did, how the ever living fuck would he explain that to Rick?

‘Oh hey Rick, I have a massive hard-on for yer sister, you okay with that?’ Fuck no. Just thinking about that conversation had him cringing in awkwardness and he shut the idea down instantly. 

But there you were still, invading his thoughts with your dreamy laugh and perky attitude. Why did you have to be such a goddamn tease?

He leaned forward, resting his hands on the wall trying to regain some composure. He gulped down deep breaths of moist air, willing his body to calm itself down, but it was fruitless. The image of your body, pushed up against the wall under his hands, wet and flushed, bubbled to the surface. He groaned. Daryl knew what he had to do. It wasn’t the first time he had gotten off thinking about you, and he damn well knew it wasn’t gonna be the last, but it still felt wrong each time, pumping his cock when you were just next door. His body craved the relief though, relief only indulgence could satisfy. 

He hissed as he dragged his fingers along his shaft, gripping at the base and beginning to pump slowly. He was painfully hard at this point, each squeeze raking shivers over his damp skin while he choked out quiet moans. With his opposite hand, he flicked the water to a warmer setting, pitifully hoping the heat and steam would resemble something close to your body against his. God, if only you were here.

He sped up, swiping his thumb over his sensitive tip with each pass, sending jolts throughout his body. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned deep and husky, not a care for the noise filling the empty house.

You were there, clear as day in his mind, moaning along with him as he pounded into you, cunt gripping him like a vice. Your breath was hot and pitchy against his ear as you begged him to fuck you harder, to go faster, to cum deep inside you. His cock twitched at that, he was already so close.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he whined, humping erratically into his long-forgotten hand. The muscles in his stomach quivered in bliss as he stroked himself, lost in his detailed imagination. You were cumming, trembling around him in languid spasms with his seed spilling out of you, and Daryl was over the edge, tossing his head back moaning your name as he unloaded, letting the steamy water wash it away. 

It took him a few minutes to recover, catching his breath slowly and trying to avoid the guilt that would soon be settling in. What would you think of him if you knew what he did behind muffled walls? How he thought of you in such dirty ways, when you’d only ever see him as a dear friend. He wondered what you might be doing now. Traipsing around your cozy home, oblivious to his rapid, lustful heart meters away.

The water was beginning to run frigid and he let out a defeated sigh. Absentmindedly, he reached past the curtain for a towel and stepped out, drying his hair off roughly and then wrapping the towel around his waist, turning to the bedroom for fresh clothes and much-needed sleep. His mind ached to be thoughtless, consumed by the abyss of unconsciousness.

He should have known the world stopped playing fair long ago.

In a single moment, his heart stopped and his stomach dropped to the fucking depths of hell.

There you stood, feet frozen to the floor with his crossbow in hand, like he willed you into existence. He stuttered, his mouth opening and closing like a blubbering fish. He was sure his eyes were the size of saucers, he could feel them ready to pop out of his skull and run away. There was no fucking way this was happening.

Several beats passed. The silence deafening between you both and for a moment, he honestly debated stepping back into the shower. Pretend you were a figment of his tortured imagination and just hope you’d go away. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen ghosts.

“You uh- you forgot your crossbow when you rushed out today,” you finally broke the silence, solidifying your genuine presence. He glanced down to the bow and then back at you, lost for words. Did you hear him? He moaned your goddamn name, quite a few minutes ago though… had you been standing there long? Were you angry?

His racing thoughts were interrupted when you stepped towards him, leaning the bow against the doorframe and moving closer. Instinctively, he took a step back, “Thanks,” he replied shakily, but you kept moving closer. He noticed your gaze then. It wasn’t on his face, but on his abdomen, at the hem of the damp towel hanging off of him. Your eyes had a gleam to them. Something dark and lustful.

No. Surely, he was reading you wrong. 

“Daryl,” you spoke, and he audibly gulped, nervousness and absolute embarrassment flooding his system, “is there something you need to tell me?” 

He didn’t answer you, instead deciding to burn a hole into the floor with his shame. He couldn’t look at you. You knew. You had heard him and were teasing him about it and here he was, a coward who couldn’t even admit to it. And you had every single right. He crossed that salty line years ago, with his first sinful thought about you. Feasted on it, deluding himself into thinking all was okay as long as his actions didn’t physically involve you.

He barely registered your advances when he finally raised his head. You were so close he could feel the heat of your breath against his burning skin, the luscious scent of vanilla and pine filling the air.

“Can I see?” you asked quietly.

He nearly choked on his own spit. Your hand was skimming along his stomach lightly, suggestively toying with the towel that covered him up. “Huh?” His mind was blank. 

“Can I see you?” you repeated, and all he could do was give you a curt little nod, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to just yet, but rendered acquiesced. Your hand pulled at the fabric softly, letting it drop to the floor revealing his manhood to your hungry eyes. Nothing was making any sense. Surely, you did not feel this way too. Surely.

There were those whispers again. He shouldn't have let you do that. He should be recoiling, shielding himself from your gaze but he was statuesque, like you had drank the life out of him with one simple look.

"Were you thinking about me touching you?" Like you had to even ask. The answer was written in plain sight, right there on his forehead and in his bashful eyes.

"M'sorry, I-" he had no clue how to even begin this kind of apology, remorse coursing through his veins rapidly. The dots weren’t connecting, not yet. "I know it's wrong, I shouldn't have-,”

And then he felt you, pressing your lips against his softly — timidly as gentle hands feathered across his waist, coaxing him into you. Your kiss was buttery, lips so smooth and sweet he wanted to drown in them. You tasted like fresh honey and vanilla ice cream, hints of minty toothpaste caught on your tongue. It was intoxicating to say the least, swarming his brain with a muted buzz and he whimpered, much to his surprise, melting into your touch quicker than he would like to admit.

“Y/n, y/n, nah we can’t,” he heard himself say as he came to his senses slowly, but he wasn’t pushing you away. Why wasn’t he pushing you away? You couldn’t, right?

“Please,” you whispered against him, low and sultry. Who was he to deny you? God Daryl, get a grip.

“Y/n, no,” he repeated, allowing his tone to take some authority even if that was the last thing he truly wanted. You stepped back from him then, a hurt expression painting your features and he felt his heart squeeze. “Why?”

His brain was scattered. This felt like a nightmare; another cruel joke sent his way to haunt him for the rest of his life. There just always had to be a price, didn't there?

"He doesn't mind, you know?" you whispered and his eyes were on yours instantly. You traced soft shapes across his stomach, sending those shivers down his spine and effectively turning him into putty.

"What’re ya talkin' about?" He needed to regain his composure, he could barely breathe with you this close, eyes raking his naked frame with desire.

"Rick... you and me. He doesn't care," you stated, "thinks it's cute actually... my crush on you."

Your crush on him?

"He trusts you, Daryl, with everything. You're pretty much the only person he would want me to be with." He hadn't thought of it that way, only ever assumed voicing his attraction to you would result in his head on a platter, or his dick… or both.

You began peppering his neck with small kisses, trailing them down his chest and over his puffy nipples. He hissed when you nipped at one, licking over it after, soothing the burn. "Ya sure?"

You nodded.

"Ya sure ya want me?" he asked dubiously. His question was answered when you grabbed his hand gently, guiding it inside your cotton underwear, letting his calloused fingers trace your soaked folds. He could have cum then and there, spreading your slick up and down between his fingers like it was liquid gold. Fuck me.

"This all fer me?" he panted, succumbed to a state of disbelief at your evident arousal. You were so wet around his fingers, pulsing and bucking slightly with each feathered stroke. "Were ya listenin' ta me?"

Hair fell over your face as you nodded sheepishly, gazing down to watch his fingers massaging you. You bit your swollen, cherry-red lip, “Couldn’t help it, you sounded so- so good.”

Now that... that got him going. Imagining your pretty cunt dripping in your panties, listening to his gasps while he fucked himself to the thought of you. Who knew the golden girl would be so naughty?

Daryl felt his confidence build, watching you fall apart for him from such simple touches. The last wire holding him back snapped and he needed more. He had waited for this moment for so fucking long.

You whine as he retracts his hand, only to be completely shut up when he places the thick digit on his tongue, sucking greedily and sloppily. It was better than he ever could have imagined, similar to the honey of your lips but so much more sweet. He went back for seconds. And thirds. Until he was dropping to his knees, deciding to lick the goddamn plate clean.

You enveloped him in the best way possible, lifting one of your thighs over his shoulder as he tugged on your tight jeans, pulling them down enough to fit his head. His tongue pressed flat against your clothed pussy, and he sucked, tasting a mixture of your sweetness and residual laundry detergent on his tongue. His moans burned the back of his throat, desperately trying to hide them but you weren’t having it, tugging on his chocolate locks for more. “Don’t do that. I wanna hear you, honey.” Good lord. He silently thanked each lucky star of his that the house was empty before emitting a guttural groan between your thighs. If this was all he got from you, a little taste of the sugar you were made of, he would die a very happy man.

He took your clit between his lips, rolling it with his tongue. Your underwear was so wet with your arousal and his spit that it was practically see-through, just calling for him to pull aside. “Please,” you gasped.

“Hm? Wha’s that?”

He’d heard you just fine. He wanted to hear you again, and again. He was greedy and you were so damn sinful, “Please, need them off, need you.”

So, he complied, as any sane man would, shimmying them down your hips as he sucked and nibbled each inch of newly exposed skin. You watched him intently with half-lidded eyes, rocking slowly to let plush skin engulf his senses like a cloud. He felt you playing with his messy hair, taking small strands between your fingertips and moving them behind his ears to see him better. The gesture struck something deep within him. You were so kind, so focused on this moment and him, he’d be damned if he let it continue on the hard damp floor of his bathroom. No fucking way.

He stood abruptly, catching you off guard. “Bed,” he muttered, capturing your lips again in a haste. He couldn’t get enough. He didn’t want a minute to pass where he wasn’t tasting some part of you. Any part of you. Sweet, sweet honey.

You led your bodies backward till your knees hit the mattress, wasting no time as you crawled up to his pillows, taking him with you.

This moment right here, this feeling… he wanted to bottle it up. Freeze time and just stare, immerse himself into every tiny detail. It felt almost criminal to continue. You were a vision, panting and squirming beneath him; so much electricity and anticipation bouncing between your yearning bodies. Could you really want this just as much as he did? Was he truly that oblivious, all these years? Whatever that answer may be, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up. Not with you.

Your hands on his face coaxed him back to reality, molding into your touch like clay. Eager lips chased his as he pulled your shirt off and as much as he wanted to freeze time and memorize each freckle of you, the more skin each other touched the more obscene the kiss became. An unartistic jumble of spit and hands and moans and thrusts.

In all the time spent pining silently for the other, you both could care less about grace.

No, he needed to hear you. Listen to every octave of moan you had in you, all at once. He needed to know each and every spot that had you whimpering and begging, this second. If time did decide to stop at any given moment he needed to have you, be you, feel everything you had to offer, and soak in it till his skin pruned.

His lips sucked and bruised their way down to your navel, and then past, kissing up your folds with lustful intent. The sounds you made above him had him seeing stars and he wanted more. His tongue slipped past your lips, finally diving into the hive of your sweetness, rolling his tongue languidly over your clit. Your hands were everywhere around him, fisting at the sheets, the pillows, and then his hair as you desperately tried to push him closer. He didn’t mind. He’d gladly suffocate between your thighs, a death he’d welcome compared to the ones he fought from outside every day.

He dove lower, smoothing his tongue over your entrance but not delving past quite yet.

“Daryl,” you gasped above him.

Looking up between your legs, he caught a glimpse of your face tossed back in pleasure and he groaned, having to ground his hips into the mattress below to relieve some pressure. “What d’ya need, sweetheart?”

He’d give you anything. The moon if you asked for it — anything to keep those pretty sounds coming from your lips. “You, you, please you.”

“How so?”

He knew he was teasing you. He’d drawn back from your glistening slit, pressing little pecks everywhere that he could reach. Your hips, your pelvis, the little crease between your thighs and your cunt. That spot drew a deep moan from you, so he focused on it, sucking and licking till it was bright red and your hips were rolling so violently he wasn’t sure how he kept his lips on you.

“In, please,” you choked out, tugging him by his shoulders to move back up. He wasn’t done yet.

“What? Ma fingers?” he toyed further, continuing his kisses everywhere but where you wanted him. “Hm?”

He brought his thumb up to your clit, pressing lightly at first, rubbing lazy, torturous circles. His lips were on the inside of your thigh, so close to your entrance but seemingly so far. He knew you wouldn’t take much more of this, you were practically sobbing above him blubbering nonsensical curses about how much you ached.

“This pretty cunt wanna be filled, that it?”

His thumb pressed firmer.

“Uh huh,” you nodded, begging him. Oh, that sound would surely be the death of him.

He finally brought his lips to your supposedly aching entrance, delving deep with his tongue. The noises he made as he lapped on your honey were flat-out pornographic, and you writhed below him, drinking everything he was giving to you. Honestly, he didn’t know how much more he could take. He wanted to draw this out for hours, make up for every bit of lost time but seeing you like this, so needy for him had his resolve shattering by the second.

With a final peck to your weeping folds, he crawled his way up back to your face. You latched on to him instantly, sensing his give and taking absolute advantage of your moment. His hips rolled into yours slowly as your tongues danced and he hardly had to guide himself with how wet you were, his tip finding your entrance easily and slipping past. You moaned rolling your hips again and he nearly bottomed out, a long deep groan ripping out of him. If he thought your lips were buttery, lord save him.

Perching himself on his forearms, he held still, watching for any signs of discomfort. He assumed you hadn’t been with anyone in a while and he certainly knew he wasn’t small, if he’d grace himself with any sort of compliment.

Sensing nothing but pleasure as your walls pulsed around him, sucking him in further, he gave, snapping his hips harshly into you. Your moans were lewd on his lips, traveling down his throat and feeding the fire that burned in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he groaned again, spiraling from the fact he was actually inside you this time. Not in his hand, pretending you were fucking shower water.

No, you were beneath him, latching onto his muscles like your life depended on it. He drove deeper, hitting a spot that had you gasping for air. He hit it again, and again, needing to feel you explode around him. He watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he pounded into you. God, you looked so pretty like this. All cock-drunk and needy.

He brought his thumb back to that spot on your clit. He needed you to cum soon, he wasn’t gonna last much longer seeing you like this and there was no way in hell he was going to finish before you. Your hips stuttered beneath him, walls squeezing around him and he knew you were close.

“Come on, pretty girl, you got it,” he whispered in your ear, sucking the lobe gently between his teeth. That must’ve broken you, because then you were cursing, spasming for him which triggered his own orgasm. Your cunt milked him, his seed spilling down your thighs exactly how he had pictured earlier and it was a fucking sight. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he had imagined this whole thing.

He fucked out both through the waves of release, and a bit past, dropping his head into your neck to muffle the obscene groans coming from his lips. He didn’t want it to stop, but your overstimulated senses ached for reprieve.

“Dar?” you whispered once you'd both caught your breath, guiding his stubbled cheek from its hiding spot. When his eyes met yours, they were filled with so much adoration and happiness he had to hold himself back from whimpering. Never in a million years would he thought he’d get you, and here you were, looking at him like the sun shone out of his ass. The same way he looked at you for years, it was jarring to see it reciprocated. How had he missed it?

You leaned forward, tenderly capturing his lips with your own, soothing him as you always did. He knew there was so much you wanted to say, that he wanted to say, but you didn’t need to talk about it tonight. Tonight you would simply soak in each other, a gift you both thought you’d never get and one you would never let go.

He felt you giggle against his lips, and he pulled back with a lazy, fucked-out smile, "What?" he mumbled curiously.

"How's the headache now, big guy?" you teased playfully and he realized then, you'd known he was fibbing today. Saw right through his measly excuse to spend time with you.

He blushed to the tips of his ears, bowing his head to hide it, "Oh, shuddup," he mumbled, attacking your neck in kisses and nips.

Your cheeky ass was gonna pay for that tonight.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you want to turn back the clock and jungkook wants you to stay.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / angst, fluff / word count: 5.8k

content/warnings: mistreatment of service workers / oc felt inappropriately touched by a customer (only mentioned in passing) / (oc works part-time in a restaurant) (then quits) / another dive into oc’s lore / allusion to death / grief grief grief / lots of crying :( / jk wants to move in together :") / mention of s*x (24/7=heaven?) / mention of period blood (they’re in diff contexts js to be clear lol) / u will get pissed and cry and laugh it’s fun <3

playlist! knees - iu ; chinese satellite - phoebe bridgers ; love wins all - iu

> in which masterlist

note: contains lil flashblacks from the giving up drabbles ^^ can be found in the timeline masterlist above this incase u haven’t read them and want to ^^ listen to love wins all when jungkook tells oc to wear their seatbelt (trust me). tried to encapsulate the epiphany of oh. everything’s going to be okay because i am loved when i’m at my lowest. as always reblogs & feedback are appreciated :") come chat!!

—

the rusty swing-set creaks as you unsteadily swing back and forth, staring lifelessly at your white socks and shoes stained with burnt orange. you look up to the sky but the moon and the stars are shrouded by the clouds. not even your favorite snack can poison your sadness with optimism. mouthful of bungeoppang, but you taste nothing, and every swallow only adds to the heaviness weighing on your chest.

your shift should be ending by now, which means you probably should be heading home, but your limbs have given up and refuses to move.

jungkook’s special ringtone ceaselessly disrupts the night scene’s quiet, but there’s no point in answering his calls when you know no words would come out of you.

“are you an imbecile?! you can’t understand basic instructions?!”

“ma’am, i’m so sorry. i’ll take it back and give you the right ord-”

“we’re fucking starving! move faster!”

you flinch as the bowl collides with the tiled floor, producing an ear-splitting sound that reverberates throughout the entire restaurant. you want to give the woman the benefit of the doubt and believe that she just shoved the bowl a little too harshly due to her frustration, but you have a hand over your mouth not due to shock, but the inexplicable pain of having your skin burnt by the piping hot soup… and she’s just… there.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry! please understand. she’s just in a bad mood. she’s not- she’s not usually like this.”

you stand on your spot, frozen and speechless, as her husband profusely apologizes. you’re only jolted out from trance when you feel him wiping your legs with crumpled tissue papers, a little too farther up for your comfort. a fleeting tug-of-war ensues when you forcefully rip them away from his hands. you thank him despite not meaning it.

you grip the edge of your skirt as you sit on your heels, picking up the broken shards of glass scattered across the floor. a concerned co-worker swoops in with a broom and you instantly jump the opportunity to save yourself from the mortifying stares, mumbling another thank you as you take your leave.

“you said table six.”

“____, i’m sorry. that was a fault on my part.”

your manager observes your current state. his stare lingers at your feet.

“but they don’t know that! she literally burnt me!”

“look, we don’t have to take this too far. it couldn’t have been that hot. we can see you’re still walking.” his condescending tone makes you feel so small, but it fuels the anger inside of you. “you don’t have to pay for the damages, so let’s just put this behind us.”

you gasp in disbelief, and it borders on a laugh. you feel crazy. you can’t believe this is actually happening to you. he can’t be fucking serious.

the workers in the kitchen remain quiet as tension arises, minds a tornado of thoughts but mouths remaining shut in fear of getting on the bad side of their superior.

“well you…” you hastily strip off your apron, bunching it up into one big ball. “don’t have to pay me anymore, because i fucking quit! i hope this place burns down!”

and you ensure that it hits him on the face before you turn around to march out of the kitchen. on the way out of the restaurant, you nonchalantly grab a bottle of water from the fridge, twisting off the cap as you push the door open. you leave a wet trail behind your steps as you pour the cold water over your feet, a poor attempt to soothe the sharp pain of the injury.

you know it will be alright eventually; you will heal, but this… this is leaving a permanent scar on your dignity.

with a vexed groan, you retrieve your vibrating phone from your pocket.

LAST EVICTION NOTICE— you do not even bother reading the rest of the words that come after that.

“fuck!” you scream, throwing the bottle at the nearest wall, hands coming up to your hair to roughly pull in frustration. the heels of your palm dig into your eyes and your knees give way to the ground. “this is a nightmare.”

it dawns on you that you’ve finally arrived at a surface on the rock bottom that you so awfully dread. you find yourself standing here— infront of the atm machine, staring blankly at the large number displayed on the screen. this money isn’t yours. this didn’t come from your blood, sweat, and tears. it’s an amount that you’re supposed to accept as a payment for the eulogies you had to deliver. you swore you would never do this, but desperate times come when you’re forced to swallow your pride and allow it to rot you from the inside.

you’re once again faced with the ugly difference between surviving and living.

you grab the cash, hastily pushing them inside the pocket of your jacket as if you’re being burnt by them. you feel so nauseous; if only emptying your stomach would untangle its knots.

you don’t need anything from anyone. this is the first and the last time, you swear to yourself in place of your defeated oath.

you don’t want jungkook to see you like this, helpless and hollow, the antonym of the sun he willingly flew too close to. you look pathetic seeking for solace in an abandoned playground, unfortunate soul stuck at fifteen, in denial of the passage of time.

but there goes your lover running towards you, calling out your name, and you begin praying for yourself to disappear into thin air.

much to your disappointment, no wiser being grants your plea, and now you have a man tucking you in his safe embrace, uncaring of his knees being bruised by the ground.

does he need to surprise you when you least anticipate his presence?

“i’ve been looking everywhere for you! i went to pick you up at the restaurant but they told me that you quit! what happened?”

he pulls away, tenderly cupping your cheeks in his warm hands.

“was it your boss again? it’s him, isn’t it? what did he do?”

jungkook dies a little inside. your glassy eyes study his face, a clear picture of distress and concern, but at the same time, they seem so far away… like you’re not certain if you’re truly here.

you unconsciously squirm— your feet retract themselves, escaping underneath the swing; and your ankles twist, and twist, one hiding behind the other.

this doesn’t feel like being stripped naked.

you feel like you’re being turned inside out.

“what’s wrong? baby…” he utters sadly as tears drip from your lashes—one by one— even they are lost and hesitant.

your distant stare remains.

he doesn’t know if you’re even aware that you’re crying. it’s a frightening sight and he doesn’t know what else to do. he holds you in his arms but you feel too stiff for this to be comfortable. the time passes, and he lets it do so in silence.

he waits for you to come back to him.

he waits, and waits, and waits.

“jungkook… i want to go home.”

“okay. i’ll bring you home, baby.” he strokes your hair, breathing out in relief. “yours? or mine?”

only for his world to crumble into pieces.

“my mom…” you whisper, breathless, releasing yourself from his embrace. “i want to be with my mom.”

and only then does he see traces of emotions written on your face.

“i miss my mom so much.”

the crack of your voice gives him an opening to catch a glimpse of your heart, that is but a mosaic of broken parts. pain, grief, longing… the past two years haven’t been enough to make him well-acquainted with the anatomy of your afflictions. he has only witnessed you speak of your family with a proud and affectionate beam; old stories that spark the agent of joy. and despite knowing that you must’ve been battling your pain all these years all alone, he couldn’t bring himself to meddle with how you handled your grief. however, if he’s going to be completely truthful, he was terrified of this— of seeing you so unmoored and broken. his pain is no comparison. quite frankly, it is an insult to yours.

“i miss her so, so, so much. what do i do? i…” you sobs become uncontrollable, overcome by the weight of the world crashing down on you.

how is it possible that you feel nothing and too much at the same time? is what you would often ask before, but today you realize that your pain simply goes beyond what any of your human parts is able to fathom.

“this is too hard… it’s too tiring. i can’t- i can’t. i don’t want to be here anymore. i’m always so scared. i don’t know what i’m doing anym-”

“shh, shhh, baby- baby, breathe for me-”

“how did my life end up like this? i don’t understand! the world- it’s so cruel- i can’t stand it.”

jungkook wipes away your tears, but it’s no use. once you break down, it becomes impossible to remedy. nonetheless, that doesn’t deter your boyfriend from trying. he gathers your weeping and trembling vessel in an attempt to glue you back together, and in while doing so, he also wills himself to be strong for you.

“why did she have to go after them and leave me all alone here? am i not her child too?”

the obtuse questions you’ve been too afraid to ask out loud are being brought out in the open, spilling out from the torn seams of your soul as they’ve become too agonizing to annihilate over and over and over again.

you know the answer. you know she didn’t want to leave.

but you can’t help but to be angry at the fact that her heart gave up. you don’t understand why it had to happen and why you’re being grinded in the mouth of the world.

“i’m tired, i’m so tired. it’s so unfair… i need her with me too…”

jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, gently rocking your tangled bodies — a defense mechanism. you’re succumbing to defeat as if it’s been long overdue; even your voice is giving up on you.

if he had to imagine, the earth must have shared his current dread when it witnessed a solar eclipse for the first time, wired to assume the worst of perpetual darkness.

“jungkook…”

your weak fists desperately grasping at the fabric of his hoodie— the final thread you are hanging on. your words break into stutters and hiccups, salty tears slipping past your lips and stirring their bitter taste.

“i just want to go and be my mom’s child again.”

and he would truly fucking hate to try and get into the implication of your words, but if jungkook is going to be completely truthful— he is terrified beyond words can say. of this; of witnessing you slip away from everything you’ve ever known; of losing you. maybe he’s being selfish, but whatever it takes, he will make you stay.

he swallows the lump in his throat, hurriedly drying his eyes with his sleeve before facing you.

“listen to me, okay…?” his voice isn’t enough to pull your head from underwater; he lightly taps your cheek, even though it breaks his heart. “hey, hey, hey. look at me, baby- look at me.”

he searches for your eyes, begging them to focus on him. and it’s silly, what he does next, pressing a kiss to your lips as if this is a fairytale. but then it works— you tilt your head to subtly nuzzle your cheek against his palm— and he has to quickly recover from being taken aback. you effortlessly make a slave out of his heart.

“you never stopped being her child. and that will never happen! because even with them being gone, you haven’t stopped trying your best to be a good child and older sibling to them. i… i’m a witness to that. every single day. are you hearing me?”

can he get some sort of sign whether he is doing this right or wrong?

“you’re not alone here because you have me. you do know that, right?”

and you want to believe him… you do. but just like how you’re clinging onto him right now for dear life, you can’t forget how you had to beg him to stay.

“so stop working all these jobs! please, i’m begging you! it must also break your mom’s heart to see you torturing yourself like this. it’s not healthy! just focus on studying and let me take away your burdens, please?”

you stop breathing; your features soften like you’ve made it out of a nightmare.

“jungkook…”

“let’s live together, baby.” he sounds sure; he sounds steady, but the waver of his eyes beseeches you. “you’ve been so good to me, even when i didn’t deserve it. please… let me love you in my own way too.”

“stop. i told you… i’m still thinking about it.” you say meekly, avoiding his intense gaze. “i mean, let’s be honest. what would your family even think of me? your aunt already hates me. what if she uses this to prove that she was right about me and-”

“fuck what everyone else thinks. i couldn’t care less.”

the reminder of the disrespect you were subjected to because of him has him seething all over again. his jaw clenches in anger, and he feels obligated to take a deep breath so he can keep himself composed. growing up, he was always taught to be the bigger person, but he simply can’t implore himself to do that if it means turning a blind eye to your hurt.

“i won’t let her get away with that type of bullshit so don’t even bother thinking about her anymore. i’ll take care of it. we can’t let that get into our heads. right, baby? we said that?” his thumb caresses your cheek softly, and you hold on to his wrist, silent as you try to understand him through the thick haze clouding your mind. “i want to be with the person i love. how could that be so wrong?”

you slowly shake your head in response, a little hesitant.

“i won’t leave again. no matter how hard you push me away, i will stay within your reach.”

and here he is, kneeling infront of you, seeking to make true of what he solemnly vowed to you.

are you going to take this away from him? after everything you’ve gone through together?

he is the only thing you have left to lose.

“i love you.” you whisper, initiating the hug this time.

you’re holding him tight, like you don’t ever want to let go, and it brings jungkook to the brink of tears once more.

“i love you so much.”

he sweetly kisses your cheek, but when you pull away to give him that look, a wordless command for more, his lips finally meet yours for the first time in forty-eight hours. they slowly curve into a smile, not at all surprised that he’s tasting sugar. he’d go through hell and back to experience this kind of kiss one time, only to do it all over again.

“let’s go home?”

you blink at him cluelessly. you don’t know why he’s wearing a dimpled smile out of the blue, neither do you know which home he is referring to. nevertheless, you intertwine your fingers with his, choosing to save yourself from this forlorn neverland.

there’s just… one teeny… tiny problem…

“shit,” you mutter to yourself, freezing on your tracks.

“what’s wrong?”

you awkwardly glance down at your shoes, the origin of the squeaky sound that was impossible to be missed by your ears. after inspecting you from head to toe, a worried expression morphs on his face, and you can only show him a shy wince in response.

“i don’t want to make your car dirty.”

“baby…”

his chest feels so much heavier. he is nearly blinded with red. he wants to scream and be infuriated. what the fuck happened back there?

you merely shrug, sending him a forced smile. “do you still have those extra slippers?”

—

“jungkook, i can do it myself.”

he clicks his tongue, his hand around your calf gripping. “stay still!”

you watch him from the passenger seat, your legs dangling from the edge as he carefully takes off your shoes and socks, yet again kneeling on the ground.

“does it hurt a lot?”

“not… a lot.” you answer through gritted teeth.

perhaps the stinging never did quell; it was just pushed to the back of your mind when more painful things surfaced succeeding it.

“who did this to you, huh? i need to go back there and make them pay! what kind of decent human being would do that?!”

“a miserable woman in a miserable marriage.”

in her eyes, you may be naive and she, the decades old wiser— but who is the one with a lover who would wash not their dirty hands, but their feet that have walked a million miles?

“i feel bad for her.” you comment absentmindedly.

you’re too far deep in awe watching jungkook gingerly clean your bare feet with his hands and a bottle of cool water, doing what you were meant to do earlier, if only granted that you weren’t erupting with rage.

“____, you’re too nice.”

“you’re too nice.” you argue. “also, those shoes are hopeless. just throw them away.”

he glances at you with fondness, shaking his head as he softly pats you dry with a clean towel. you stifle a gasp. it’s no longer as bad as before, but your skin still feels warm and raw. this wasn’t in the job description. you decide that you can practice empathy, as well as your strong belief in karma, at the same time. at this moment, you hope that the universe is already crafting tricks up its sleeve, because you’re in a world of fucking pain.

“there you go. wait until we get off the car before you wear the slippers, alright? and you’re not allowed to wear tight shoes.”

he rises to his feet, not wasting the opportunity to steal a kiss.

“yeah, it was wildly uncomfortable.” you mumble against his lips, tugging at his collar to properly respond to his display of affection. “thank you.”

“wear your seatbelt.” his eyes shines with a glint of with uncontainable excitement. “we’re going home.”

—

you stir as jungkook gently shakes your body awake, his muffled voice gradually becoming clearer as you gain your consciousness.

“wake up, baby. we’re here.”

you tiredly rub off the sleep from your swollen eyes, discovering your boyfriend waiting for you where the door of the passenger seat should be.

“let’s get you some more rest.” he places a chaste kiss on your forehead, before standing aside to make way for you, offering his hand as a gentleman.

you must still be dreaming. you assumed he would bring you to his apartment, but you do not recognize this place. this is a different parking space, a different parking lot.

“um… t-this is…” you stumble on your words, feeling lost. “where are we?”

“home,” he smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes and turn them into little crescent moons.

you must still be dreaming. the clock attached to a nearby pillar strikes midnight, and unbeknownst to you, a brand new day awaits beyond the dark and empty sky.

you were so thoroughly convinced that you’ve been living a life past the point of salvation… but life stands before you overflowing with hope and glowing with ardor.

you take his hand and allow him to whisk you away to another world.

—

this is beginning to feel real, jungkook thinks as he presses the elevator button. earlier’s excitement becomes interweaved with nervousness. he’s a little dizzy as the giant box ascends. if you feel his hand’s growing clamminess, you don’t show it, your clasp still as firm as before.

“you bought another house…”

“hmm, but this one is a secret.” a confession that is yours truly. “this one is ours.”

your eyes wordlessly speak with each other. neither of you imagined following your hearts could materialize your future plans to the present time. what goes beyond dreaming of beautiful things is still foreign to the both of you, but jungkook is here, willing to free fall with you.

the elevator dings.

he guides you through a well-lit hallway, to a door, and you pay close attention as he punches in the passcode— another set of numbers you ought to have memorized alongside birthdays and anniversaries and id numbers.

your heart races but everything else moves in slow motion. the door opens and you get swallowed by the need to remember every moment so vividly as if you’re reliving it.

the first time you set foot into your own apartment,, the empty space daunted you despite its modest dimensions. however, right now, your head is tracing half of a circle, from left to right, just to study this large space in its entirety— and all you can think about are the endless possibilities forming intimate images of a sanctuary in your head— a place where fears and sadness can co-exist with tenderness and joy.

beside you, jungkook patiently holds your hand.

“this one is ours…” you repeat the words, more so to convince yourself, and they drip with disbelief.

you follow his lead as he walks to the other half of the room, bare feet sliding across the floor.

“this is the living room, and the other side is the kitchen.”

he faces you with a wide grin, the kind he wears when he wants to tell you something he is proud of.

“i was thinking that if we get a big television bolted on the wall…”

he gestures to the blank canvas, letting go of your hand to draw an invisible rectangle on the air with his arms fully outstretched.

“then we can easily watch even from the kitchen.”

he puffs up his chest, side-eyeing you expectantly.

“genius, right?”

“and greedy.” you blink. “i don’t think that’s safe to do while you’re cooking.”

“but i’ll be very, very careful!”

“that’s the bare minimum when you’re holding a knife.”

“okay! i look forward to arguing with you about that on a different day!”

his enthusiasm doesn’t waver. in fact, it is fueled. how could it not? when you’re starting to sound exactly like a couple who lives together?

he captures your wrist and tugs you towards the other side of the room, but you pull him back with a noise of protest.

“are we not going to address…” you hang on to your words, eyes wandering to the floor where there are signs of living. “whatever is going on here?”

a single mattress with a single pillow; a folded blanket neatly sitting on top of it. surrounding them are bottles of water, a laptop, a speaker, and a basket of what you assume are skincare products.

“i’ve been sleeping here lately…”

“i can see that.”

“i didn’t want to buy furnitures yet while you haven’t given me an answer… i just thought that if we’re living together, then we should decide on those things as a couple.”

…he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…”

his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh.

“going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

jungkook feels your stare. oblivious of your thoughts reigning chaos, he tilts his head in question.

how long has he been planning this?

“you okay?”

you blink away the tears brimming your eyes. you shake your head, clinging to his arm. “where were you taking me?”

“this is the kitchen!”

a smile of contentment graces your lips. you’re guilty of admiring the pure, unadulterated joy on jungkook’s face instead of what he is passionately endorsing to you.

“this is the fridge!” he presents to you, swinging the door open. “but there’s nothing inside.”

“what are you saying? there is something.”

the two of you peer at the green can of soda, chilsung cider, left at a far corner. the refrigerator light casts over your curious faces.

“oh, that’s still there?”

the animated sound of your giggles prompts him to look at you, and he couldn’t be more glad to be laughing with you again, bellies aching at the same time.

“do you want it?”

“it’s not peach.”

“let’s move on then!”

there are cups of ramyeon and packs of dried seaweed on the countertop, the photo of his dinner that he sent last night still vivid in your memory. your hand daintily brushes across the white marble, stealing a feel as jungkook drags you to a new space.

“this is the second kitchen and laundry room!”

he waits for a reaction as you survey the room and its overhead cabinets.

“it’s not supposed to be the pantry…? eh, you know what? cooking and doing laundry are more of your thing so you can have them however you want.”

you turn on your heel to walk away, and jungkook follows behind you, celebrating his victory by punching the air and whisper-shouting a yeah!

“what’s here?”

you reach another hallway beside the living room.

“what’s here?” he zooms past you to open a door. “bathroom. there’s a bathtub! but i still need to install grip bars so no one will slip.”

he needs to stop saying things that make you want to make him your husband on the spot.

“and we have my favorite part! the master bedroom, of course!” he swings the door open on the other side. “where else would we spend the most time in?”

“wow, really? i thought you were also endorsing the living room as the bedroom.” you jokingly quirk an eyebrow.

“nonsense!” he cheekily chides you. “you deserve better than that.”

you take a step, peeking inside the empty room that you estimate to be as twice as larger than yours. you can’t say that you care so much about its size, because behind the white curtains, you reel at the prospect of the natural light shining over your face every time you wake up. your mornings have been gloomy since you arrived at seoul four years ago.

he sneaks his arms around your waist, your back resting against his chest, and your being feels so light you might just begin floating when he lets go.

“let’s stay like this for a while.”

“okay,” he puts his chin on top of your shoulder, his soft smile becoming permanent.

the two of you stand at the bedroom’s doorway; the cusp of what could be your entire lives.

“what’s that other room?”

“which one?”

“i don’t know. i see it from the side of my eye.”

he cackles at your humorous nonchalance. “i have more to show you. there’s a guest room… if we decide it to be.”

“cute. i have somewhere else to sleep when i’m mad at you.”

“that’s fine,” he replies after a beat of silence. “at least i’d know where to find you.”

“don’t make me change my mind.”

he cries out your name childishly, burying his face by the crook of your neck. he hugs you tighter. he wants to sleep every night drowning in the sweet scent of your hair. if he had to choose, it would be the most peaceful way to go.

“we have a walk-in closet too!”

“i expected nothing less.” you giggle, not a stranger to his lifestyle. “what’s exciting is that we can finally have a big bed.”

“but i like our small beds.”

“cuddling isn’t all that fun during the summer. trust me, you’d eventually want space.”

“nuh-uh! that’s what aircons are for!”

you roll your eyes at his persistence. “then why did you choose such a huge apartment if you wanted a small bed?”

“so we can have all the space to slow-dance to love songs.”

jungkook, ever the charmer. the butterflies in your stomach come alive beneath his embrace.

“why are you suddenly quiet?” he laughs. “was that too cheesy?”

“no!”

“really?” he spins you around, and heat creeps to your cheeks when he leans in so close that you can perfectly distinguish the brown in his eyes. “so have you given it more thought?”

“given what more thought?”

“there’s nothing to be scared of. it’s only the two of us here, see?” he tells you like overeager puppy. “will you move in with me?”

if this is a dream, you wish to never wake up from it. to have a person care for you this deeply and unconditionally, you want to believe that you have done something right to deserve it.

“i just don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

his eyebrows knit together in defense. “what does that mean?”

“the thing is… yeah, sex 24/7 and cuddling and having first times together, that sounds amazing and all… but living with me would probably drive you crazy.”

a tired yawn almost interrupts the end of your sentence, and you cover your face out of courtesy. you sniffle and wipe your teary eyes with the back of your hand.

“i’ve lived on my own for so long. i’m messy and clumsy and i’m used to having everything my way… i mean… i’m willing to compromise, but i can’t promise i won’t be insufferable as hell about it.”

“ah, seriously! you scared me for nothing!” he exclaims, throwing his head back with a groan. “baby, i’ve been living with six other men for the past decade. you know that there was a time when we even slept together in one small room. can you imagine how that must’ve been like for a bunch of teenage boys…? you? messy? think about it again. living with you can’t possibly get worse than that. you don’t have to worry about me! really, i can take it! watch me!”

“but i bleed every month.”

“i’m a man. seeing a little blood doesn’t faze me.”

you make a face. “it’s actually a lot.”

“yah, why are you acting like we haven’t been together for two years?”

“it’s different living together!”

“it’s only natural! i don’t care!”

a noise of complaint bubbles in your throat when he shakes you by your shoulders, coaxing you with an whiny “please baby.”

your chest deflates in defeat. “sure, i guess… as long as we have the big bed, and the slow-dancing-”

“done!” he doesn’t waste his breath, not keen on wasting this opportunity. “anything you want, you have it!”

you narrow your eyes. “and i’ll keep my tutoring job.”

“will you punch the next guy that insists you study at his dorm for me?”

“or i can just keep saying no firmly, baby boy.”

and with that pet name, he instantly folds. “okay.”

“okay?”

“okay, since that’s the only one that you genuinely like.”

“you-” your teeth unconsciously finds your bottom lip to dig into, and you inhale sharply. “…you really love me, don’t you?”

suddenly, you’re raising your voice and waving your hands in the air. you’re feeling too many emotions at once; it’s like when you mix all the colors in a palette and end up creating black. you’re angry and happy and you may be fucking crying again.

“you were just picking up speakers one night and a pretty stranger offers you some boring food and now you want to be stuck with me forever?”

your fist throws a restrained punch to his chest, shoving him backwards.

“oh my god, you’re so stupid!”

jungkook finds this too amusing, tries to hide that he is enjoying this but a smirk is plastered on his face.

“you are loved by so many,” he brushes away the hair that has fallen over your eyes. he tucks them behind you ears and tenderly holds your face in his warm hands. “but i’m confident that i love you the most.”

you are the muse in his dreams. your perfume clings to his clothes. you make him the happiest man on the planet and your pain torments him. what is this, if not love?

“and if that makes me the stupid one? then so be it.”

“when did it become a competition?”

“since you got yourself a competitive boyfriend!”

“okay, fine! let’s make it my fault!”

you throw your arms around his neck, peppering kisses all over his face until he’s an uncontainable giggling mess.

“i’m drowning in kisses! nobody help!”

and you hope you’re hugging him close enough that he can feel the love and gratitude flowing through your veins. your eyes flutter shut, and you sigh— tranquility triumphs over chaos.

“are you falling asleep standing up again?”

“no!” you blatantly lie, drawing back with innocence masking your drowsiness. “we still need to go online shopping!”

“what are we buying?”

your face lights up. “appliances first?”

“appliances?” he cheerfully says. “sure! let’s get you new shoes too!”

as he gets dragged to the living room where his laptop is, he mumbles something with an enamored expression. “i should keep working hard.”

—

“yah, why are looking at me like that?” jungkook chuckles upon feeling your poorly concealed stare, diverting his attention away from the laptop over his stomach. “i’m the real deal. the tv is over there, on the screen.”

“just because…”

you snuggle closer to his side, heart fluttering when his arm that is your pillow moves to also hold you. you don’t really mind a small bed. this is the most favorable consequence a nuisance could have.

“i feel sorry.”

“sorry? for what?”

“because i made you sad, didn’t i? i hate that so much.” you sniffle, hand coming up to pat his cheek affectionately. “i know it must be hard for you too.”

“you’re the one who’s in a lot of pain.” he means to firmly speak, but the tremble of his voice rudely refuses to cooperate. “how could you even think of me feeling sad?”

“because i love you. of course i always think of you.” you argue, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. “i can’t do that now?”

he sighs. “you know that’s not what i meant.”

a kiss is planted on your forehead— tender and cherishing.

“let’s be happy, baby.”

the sharp edges of jungkook’s fears are eroded in a way. in a universe that relentlessly challenges you to be optimistic, your heart that is well-versed in loving continues to rise above it all.

you echo his words wistfully. “let’s be happy.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[gabriellessworldd]

Do i make you nervous?

shy, nerdy Armin x bold black fem reader

wc- 1.4k!

☆ warnings ☆: js a lil smth for my armin girlies! very light smut nth too crazy 18+, oral (f receive, you sit on his face 😛), armin is obsessed with you, so when you asked him to be your tutor he thanked his lucky stars.

"Excuse me, Miss L/n, could you stay after class, there's a pressing matter." your chemistry professor Mrs. Clark announced whilst sending you a look after she graded your assignment. "Yea i'll stay." you mumbled opening up your macbook, checking the damage, '13% no. fucking. way.' sure you weren't the best student but it was never this bad.

Class was finally over and honestly you wanted nothing more than to go back to your apartment and take a long ass nap. "Miss L/n, don't keep me waiting! Come here please." honestly you didn't want to hear what she had to say, but if you wanted to pass this class you would have to work your ass off. "Yes ma'am, what's the matter?" you were trying to be polite and sweet so maybe she'd have mercy on you but, that plan didn't work.

After 25 minutes of her lecturing you about your grades, she finally offered some help. "I would suggest you get a tutor, it could give you that extra push you need. Hearing the same stuff from me everyday clearly isn't helping you." She looks at you and shrugs, "You can see yourself out now, enjoy your afternoon." As much as she annoyed you, your professor was right, and you had the perfect tutor in mind.

Armin Arlert. Not only was he smart as fuck but he also had a gorgeous face. It made perfect sense, if that pretty boy had been teaching you chemistry you probably would've had perfect attendance and 100's on all your assignments. You saw him walking off campus and rushed after him, you weren't sure if he would help, but what's the harm in asking?

"Hey Armin!" he turned around looking for who was calling him then he spotted you waving him down. 'is y/n looking for me?' he felt his stomach do an olympic level gymnastic routine (😜) and swallowed the lump in his throat. He was captivated by you, there was just something so perfect about you. The way you laughed, your voice, your beautiful eyes, your entire being had him enthralled.

He walked over to you, "h-hey y/n" he tried not to get too nervous but the small voice crack gave him away. "hi! i was wondering if you could do me a favor?" you batted your eyelashes and smiled brightly. "o-oh! y-yea of course, what's the matter?" he said it almost too quickly, Armin was just glad he could talk to you. You studied his face, it was perfect, the way his glasses sat on his face, the pink tint on his lightly freckled cheeks, even his pink plump lips. 'wait, why is he blushing?' you smiled at the thought, this would be so easy.

"s-so you need m-me to tutor y-you?" he stumbled over his words, an hour and thirty minutes alone with you, luck really was on his side today. "Yup, that's it! Think we could start today?" you checked the time, it was 3:47. "You could come to my house now if you're free! There aren't any distractions and it would be just me nd you!" There was no way Armin was turning this down, "yes that works for me." 'fuck yea i finally made it through a sentence without stuttering' he smiled softly showing his teeth, and your knees nearly buckled.

You opened your door, the scent of vanilla and strawberries clouded Armin. Your place was comfy nd clean, "You can sit at the table over there, I need to shower quickly if you don't mind!" He nodded his head 'i can't believe im in y/n's house right now' he pulled out his textbook nd laptop, not that he would really need it.

"Thank you so much for waiting!" you walked out of your room in your pj's and matching house slippers. "You want anything to drink? I've got dr pepper, pineapple fanta, nd water." Armin watched you walk to the kitchen, your small shorts shrinking with every step, "u-uhm dr pepper is fine. thanks." You sat back down with the two drinks, your boobs bounced slightly in your exposed cheetah print push up bra. you noticed Armin's face heat up and slightly turn pink, you decided to tease him.

you leaned over the table and showing more cleavage and placed your hand on his arm, "Do you mind explaining this to me? I don't get it" Armin tried not to make eye contact with you and took a sip of his drink, but when he finally gave in your seductive eyes almost killed him. He choked on the dr pepper, "um y-yea it's dea-" "Wait.. do i make you nervous?" you cut him off, not caring about chemistry anymore, that assignment could wait.

You scooted closer to Armin and leaned in close to his face, "you're a very pretty boy Armin, did you know that?" You looked at his lips and back at his eyes, "n-no I've ne-never-" You went to kiss him and he immediately took the chance. His soft hands instantly squeezed your tits, and you ran your fingers through his soft blonde hair. The kiss was sweet but it was also passionate, it felt desperate like you both needed more. Armin slid down the straps to your top and bra, freeing your boobs. His soft hands pinched and rolled your nipples, you softly moaned into his mouth and he slipped his tongue in. But he still wanted more.

Armin pulled away from the kiss, face flushed and cheeks red, with a light sheen on his lips from your lip gloss. He lowered his mouth to your right nipple, slipping it in while still playing with the left. Your hands were still tangled in his hair, tugging at his locks. Armin left hickeys all over your chest, wanting to mark you, he needed to know that this wasn't a deluded dream and that you were right there letting him touch you. He looked up at you while sliding your tit out of his mouth with a pop, "c-can we go to your room?" his face was filled with lust, he looked so divine. "of course" you stood up and grabbed his hand, leading him to your room. Armin was anxious obviously, but the was something he needed.

You laid in your bed with your legs propped up on Armin's shoulders as he sloppily ate you out. "Fuck Armin! right there please!" He sucked on your clit, he needed you to cum, he wanted to taste how sweet you were. "o-oh fuck armin, mmhm, right there" He came up, his lips covered in your arousal, " I want you to cum in my mouth y/n." He went back to sucking your clit, you felt a familiar pressure build up in the lower half of your stomach,"a-ah mm armin. That feels soo good!" You could feel yourself about to unravel as he pushed his tongue in and out of your hole. "Cmon y/n, c-cum for me, please." he felt you pulse on his tongue and pull his hair, he started getting sloppier.

Your thighs squeezed his head as you felt your high coming. "ah Armin 'm gonna cum, fuck!" you moaned out as he sucked on your clit, making you throw your head back and squeeze your eyes closed, mouth dangling open. You felt yourself squirt and looked down at Armin watching him lick up everything.

"Can, can you s-sit on my f-face?" He wanted you to say yes, he needed you to say yes. You looked at him puzzled, "You want me, to sit on your face?" "Yes. please y/n." You nodded your head at the blonde, Armin quickly sat down, laying down fully when he saw you stand over him. You straddled his face, not fully sitting down all the way. "Y/n sit down all the way please, I promise I'll be alright." You listened and sat down.

"o-oh fuck armin, oh my god please!" his nose rubbed your sensitive clit as he continued tongue fucking you, his groans vibrated against your core. He loved the way you moaned, it sounded so heavenly, it was his new favorite sound. You needed more, you started to slowly grind on his face, "c-can you go faster y/n please." You picked up the pace, his tongue worked wonders, it was like Armin knew exactly what you liked. "a-ah Armin! 'm too sensitive, gonna cum again" You were on cloud nine, his tongue continued the ravaging pace. "c-cum for me sweetheart." The overstimulation and sloppy licks to your clit drove you over the edge "Fuck! ah Armin!" your vision went clouded as you came down from your high. Armin was satisfied, this was all he needed, to taste every bit of you.

a/n ☆: hiiii my lovebugs!! firstly i js wanna say i'm so grateful for all the interaction with "Never get yo bitch back!" also next part will be coming soon! lmk if y'all wanna get tagged in my future projects!! (y'all like the color switch for different characters or js keep pink?)

-with lots of love, gabrielle <3

[iplayghoul]

𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞

pairing:: onyankopon x reader

wc:: 2.6k

warnings:: umm starts off as soft sex, they get a lil crazy (my fault), tongue sucking, squirting, cunnilingus all that. nothing too crazy. using 'mama' and 'ma', reader has braids and acrylics.

note:: heyy.. how yall doin 😅 work below the cut.. dont beat my ass

“You remind me of the sun, ony’,” you mumble, cheek pressed against his bare bicep with your head resting soft against the picnic blanket as you look up at the night sky. He's like the sun to you. “mm, yeah What– does that mean, pretty?” His voice is deep… just above a whisper and in your peripheral vision you see him looking at you but your eyes are fixated on the stars above. “I dunno, your skin is always so warm when I feel cold but– I gravitate towards you all the time. Like all the other stars do. You exude something… mmph, what m’ I saying rightnow.” You fumble, chuckling lightly at your lack of words.

“do you believe in destiny? like ‘written in the stars’ n’ shit? Hm?” Onyankopon speaks up, you feel an emotion behind his tone you can't quite describe. It sounded like… uncertainty, insecurity. “Well, you know how my exes were… I'd like to think those were just unfortunate circumstances that I'm tryna grow from, baby. I don't wanna think the universe puts us through that on purpose… y'know?” You sit up, pretty little night dress falling down to cover your thighs. Your hands holding you up as you look around the night sky. The full moon tonight facilitated an impromptu shoving of a picnic blanket onto the balcony, warm glasses of chai tea emptied and hot in your bellies as you laid together to watch the moon.

Onyankopon rests his head with his hands behind his head, admiring you. He clears his throat, “I love you. Y'know that?”, “I do know that, you know I love you too?” You look at him over your shoulder before turning over and pressing your palms onto his stomach, he groans in faux pain. “Mhm,” He purrs, sitting up to clasp your hands in his own, tugging you onto his lap. “I know that, mama,” the moon was so bright. It illuminated the darkness around you both on the balcony and glimmered in his eyes. You stare. His moistened lips glistening in the light, you scoot closer to him. Chest pressed against your breasts and he sits handsomely, basking in your gaze and touch. Pretty white french tip acrylic nails with bow decor caresses his neck, scratching the back his neck and playing with his ears. Ony’ shivers lightly.

“Why you touchin’ on me like that, hm?” He bites back a smile when u tug at his earlobe. “Gimme a kiss,” You murmur, lips sealed by the clasp of his against yours. He pecks your lips several more times, Onyankopon really liked the texture of your lip gloss on his lips. Hands drag down his chest, following the tiny lines of his wife-beater: twirling the drawstring of his sweats.

“Do you wanna–”

“No,” Your eyes meet his, and Ony’ watches you as kind as ever, with his stupid handsome face. “No, baby,” He kisses his teeth, “Not g'na fuck you out here. Not on the balcony,” his cheeks deepen with dimples as he offers you a low chuckle.

“‘M not asking you to fuck me.” You roll your eyes teasingly,”And what's wrong with out here . . . we got blankets and pillows, s'comfy baby,” He's offered a sweet smile, the lavender rubber bands on your braces reminded him of the colours of the night, so he looks up at the sky.

The moon colours dusted blue and purple hues onto the clouds that bordered it. Reflecting and sparkling in your eyes and your face. Shit . . .

“What I'm asking, is that you make love to me, Ony’,” You whisper, resting your head in his neck. Onyankopon sucks a deep breath in between his teeth. “Grab some f'them pillows.” He uttered.

Ony’ scoots forward, shamelessly staring at your ass as you bunched up the pillows scattered across the balcony and stuffing them behind where he previously sat, blankets included and teacups pushed far aside. “Lay back right there,” , “Mkay . . . ,” You whisper, eyes flickering to his position while he only eyes you, fixing your braids behind your ears and tucking yourself comfortably back into the mound of pillows and blankets. “Mhm, pull it up,” Onyankopon turned to you and gave your night dress a light tug, eyes still focused everywhere else but your own.

You shuffled, clutching the little thing up above your hips, pretty panties scrunched up between your legs . . . you wore some random ones with rainbows on it. “Take it off, ma’,” Onyankopon ordered, his mouth muffled by the hand on his chin, finger pressing into his lips while he watched you. Gingerly, you hook your acrylics beneath the band slipping the panties off. Flustered, your legs remained snapped shut, though your puffy cunt still pushed itself out, feeling tickled and tingly at the touch of the cold air. It was the type of wind that blew before a cozy storm. And you nibble on your bottom lip. Ony’ grabs your knees, prying them apart. He watched how the moonshine glistened against your pussy.

He pushed your legs back ‘till your knees brushed the blankets behind you, “Ony’ don't stare,” a grumble escaped you, body warm. He hummed. Leaning down, Ony’ spread your pussy further with his thumbs before offering your clit a kiss. You gasp softly, expecting the upcoming stimulation anxiously, wishing he could just skip this part n’ pull his dick out. You drop your head back into the pillows, eyes to the stars and moon when you feel Onyankopon's tongue swirl over your hole before dipping in gently. He likes to take his time. He does this a few more times and you whine, eyes falling shut when you feel him drag his tongue over your clit. Then, he's going in; he's licking up n’ down your cunt, sucking your clit into his mouth n’ tugging it to let it snap back into your pussy. You moan freely, thick into the air. The clouds above moved with the wind and suddenly the moon sent glows onto your face, so much so that you opened your teary eyes to see what was so bright on your face.

Onyankopon groans vibrations into your pussy when he sees your face, overcome with pleasure under the moonshine. He dips his face into you, licking circles about your cunt, kissing and suckling, and spitting, and slipping his tongue deep in you. “Ony’, Ony’ c'mon,” You whine, hands dancing behind his neck, pushing his face deeper into your cunt when you feel your clit throb hard. He makes circles around your clit, kissing it and once sucking it into his mouth. “Right there, right there,” You ache when he tilts his head and tongues a spot of your clit and you start grinding your body into his face. He thinks he might suffocate in the best way possible. Little glossy pearls of tears glide down the sides of your cheeks and tickle your ear. Head pressing back into the pillows when the rest of your body arches forward to Ony's mouth. You spread your legs so wide and they stiffened, all you feel is his tongue around your clit now pushing out undisturbed by your folds and you grab your braids tight. He stuffs two fingers inside you while maintaining his motions on your clit, sloppily fucking them into you, twisting them with each stroke and you think your ears are actually ringing. With it, you let out a sob and squeal, “Fuck! Fuck, oh-my-god, Ony–,” then it was silence, “Breath, mama, breathe,” Ony groaned, and suddenly you were gasping for air, cumming hard.

Your lips were quivering, feeling somewhat numb while Ony’ offered you some slow calming strokes with his fingers as you mellowed down. “Shit, you still want s’m cock after that?” He gave your clit a final kiss, seeing your bleary eyes as you sniffle and sigh. Your legs ached when you tried to move, closing them slowly. “Gimme a minute,” you pout and flop your head back down into the pillows, collecting yourself a bit, eyes blinking wearily. “S’ sensitive, m’ sorry,” Ony’ only re-fluffs some of the blankets and pillows that were now pushed askew, lifting your lower body by your legs while he pushed them back beneath you.

“Chill out,” He whispered, shifting to lay beside you and look at the sky. “S’ finna rain soon,” He announced,”Mhm, yeah,” You push your legs out, throwing your arms above you for a big stretch, squeezing your thighs tight to block your exposed pussy from the cold air. “Want head?” you peep at Ony’ who rests his hands behind his head. He shakes his head ‘no’ and stretches. You observe him and openly stare at his hard dick printing out of his sweats. Leaning forward, you rub, ever so gently, along the shaft while he watched you.

“‘Kay, get over right here,” Ony’ sat up moving from his spot, gesturing for you to situate yourself there with a quickness and brushing your hand off him. You huff, teasing, and pull your night dress back down as you crawl on your hands and knees to the pillows. Lay on your back and braids adjusted, Ony grabs your night dress, tugging it back up your body and kissing his teeth. “Keep playin’,” He gives your ass a playful smack and you giggle.

Grabbing your ankles, Onyankopon pushes your legs all the way back. What you'd like to call, ‘knee headphones’ the way they were in line with your ears. Some traces of creamy white release cooled under the air, clit puffing out and hole aching to be stimulated again. Ony’ adjusts himself above you, leaning close and tugging his sweats down, letting his pretty, dark dick fall out and slap your thigh. Fuck, you might cry. Little beads of pre-cum dripped from the tip, he was already girthy, yet his cock got thicker and meatier towards the center of the shaft. “Y'gonna go slow?” Ony lines up, pressing his tip into you and smiles,”Yea, mama, i’mma go slow,” He sinks and drawls out a long, ”Fuck.”

His heavy hand grips your thighs, pressing you down into the pillows. Onyankopon adjusts himself over you, letting his weight hold you down while he all but throbs in you. Legs now thrown over his shoulders and dark brown eyes staring deep into your own, fighting your weighted eyelids. “Bet’ not run, ma',” Onyankopon observes your face, licking his lips and giving you a quick peck, he resists indulging you when you pout and instead kisses about your damp cheeks and neck. “Oh-my-god,” you squeal when he begins to lift his hips out of you.

Onyankopon's hands cage your head, and the closeness leaves you nowhere to grab; thus your hands are left to mindlessly flop back onto the pillows. Nice and easy . . . proper n’ slow, he begins to rock his hips into you, “Why you suckin’ me in like that, mama?” He groans low. Ony’ let's his forehead rest on yours while the tip of his dick nudges the spongy mound inside you. “Ony’ your fuckin’ dick,” you whimper, “W’ssup wit’ it, huh?”, Onyankopon pressed his lips to yours in a wet kiss, grinning when he sees your pretty little eyes welling with tears. “Deeper–,” a sniffle, “Want it– deeper, shiiiit,” And he gives you just that, digging his fat dick deeper with each antagonizing stroke. Your cleavage bounces beneath your chin with each thwack of his hips into yours, tits having been firmly mushed into Ony's chest and you feel like you're gaping. Thighs burning n’ cunt stretching as he slowly builds the well in your tummy to milk you. “Mhm, watchu’ wanted?” You only groan and bite your lips, eyes screwed shut as you lay limp on the pillows getting fucked. Onyankopon gives your cheek a few slaps, “Answer me ‘fore I stop, don't play,” You force your eyes open and see Ony's eyes locked on yours. Brows furrowed and mouth ajar, that pussy felt fuckin’ good. “Yea, s’ what I wanted– daddy, fuck,” You let out a bratty sob when sloppily fucks into you faster before slowing again.

“Stick y'tongue out,” Onyankopon hums lowly, and you're not sure if you can focus on anything besides the smack of his hips and the squelching coming from his cock. You still comply, tongue lolling out from your mouth with heavy breathes. Ony’s dick throbs inside you, and he slurps your tongue into his mouth, suckling on it before locking your lips to his, tongue massaging yours. “Takin’ that fuckin’ dick, mhm,” His lips glide over your cheeks, fucking into you with fervor. He mumbles a chant of, “Shit, shit, shit,” pummeling you with his cock, reaching depths in your cunt you hadn't even discovered before. Ony’ seemed determined on knocking the fucking wind out of you and stuffing your swollen, little pussy full of dick. “Oh–,” wails escaping your lips, “Ohmygod unh, f– daddy, fuck,” you continue to mewl.

Your hands frantically grasp any and everything, your braids, Onyankopon's back, your ankles, the pillows; entire body gyrating as he fucks you. Onyankopon tongues your neck, licking about your ear, kissing your cheek. Your cunt feels sticky, s’ sloppy and warm and your entire body feels hot all over. Your eyes roll back and he's got you so trapped under him getting pounded that you can't even arch up into him. Cunt remaining spread at just the right angle and makes your legs quiver. Onyankopon let's out a tight groan and you feel the curve of his cock digging you hard. “G'nna make me fuckin’ cum. Squeezin’ on me like that, mama.” His sharp words muttered right into the shell of your ear making you clench hard. “Mu'fuckin’, sloppy pussy,” He lifts off you and pushes your legs above your head, crossing your ankles as he holds them together for leverage.

“N– Oh, no,no,no, Onya–!” you uttered out with gasps at the new angle. “Take it, take it, take it,” Ony’ murmured. Just like that, warmth squirted out of your cunt, dripping down his abdominals and pooling right between you where the hilt of his cock slapped into your folds as he kept drilling himself into you. “Mmmmph,” You can't help but cry and moan, cheeks feeling a bit warm with embarrassment yet it's overcome by the exponential throbbing of your clit. Your hand started tapping the pillows, shaking as you tried to tap out of whatever Ony’ was serving you right now. “C'mon,” He whispered, “I gotchu’.” It's like he senses it, thumbing your clit lightly.

“Need it! Need– it, daddy, shit,” You peer up at him.

“I know you do, baby, give it to me,” His commands echoes in your head, over and over. You're gasping, body jiggling off the pillows and slapping back up into his, “‘M . . . fuck, daddy,” sobbing and failing at formulating your words.

“‘M cumming, I'm cumming, oh my god.”

Your hips stiffen up and with each pelting thrust Ony’ cussed above you; a harsh wind blows and you think the coldness against your hot body makes you gush all over his cock while he cums alot. You blink the tears out of your eyes when Onyankopon fucks your cum mixture back into you a couple more times, before pulling out quick to avoid you being too sore and pained for him to move then plopping beside you on the pillows. Your legs fall carelessly below and all you hear besides silence are his harsh breaths and his deep voice asking you something you can't yet register, your clits throbbing too hard.

The moon really did look pretty tonight. Onyankopon does remind you of the sun. Shit, you felt like you were sitting among the fuckin’ stars.

[notiddygxthgf]

❛ Talk to me, baby. I'm goin' blind from this sweet, sweet craving, whoa-oh. Let's lose our minds and go fucking crazy. I-I-I-I-I-I keep on hoping we'll eat cake by the ocean. ❜

★ pairings: choso kamo x f!reader

★ synopsis: you and choso find a way to beat the heat.

★ c.w.: sexual tension, PWP, porn without plot, happy ending! au?, idk everyone's happy lol, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, cowgirl in the backseat, creampie, blowjobs, choso has mommy issues lowkey, and the reader caters to them lowkey. dom/sub undertones, choso doesnt know how to deal with his horniness lol, old fashioned, nasty ass sex, just read it you'll love it.

★ a/n: hi baby girls!! I have been holding onto this one for a MINUTE bc I wanted to make sure it's perfect. im doin a lil bit of a kinktober, so send those requests in! I hope u all love it as much as I do. bitchz w mommy issues wya???🗣️🗣️

★ w.c.; 8.6k

masterlist

CHOSO LOVED THE BEACH. Not for the reason one might normally proclaim such affection for an otherwise family-friendly pastime, but it was a valid reason nevertheless. He used to hate it, actually, especially when Getou and Mahito would drag him out there on the hottest day of the summer for their stupid villain conventions. He was quite comfortable at home in all of his layers. But there was something about the beach these days, something that had him reconsidering his bias. 

Call him classless, call him perverted. Whatever it was, there was this strange pull towards the beach that had him in a chokehold. He just couldn’t quite place it.

“You’re staring,” Megumi remarked.

Choso’s brow quirked. Letting his head loll to the side, teetering just off the edge of his beach chair, he offered the following words to his brother’s friend. “No, I wasn’t.”

He totally was. The way his sun glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as you walked past the two was a dead giveaway. But, shit, you looked too good to be true. You were this pretty little thing, strutting around in a pretty pink bikini, soaking in the rays of sunlight, and you were bringing a drink to your friend, Maki. Looked like a lemonade. Also looked like booze. It could have been anything, in all honesty, he wasn’t looking there. 

If there was a god out there, he hoped they would forgive him for his ravenous gaze. He had always had a little thing for you, if you will, but the moment you had walked onto the beach today he found himself completely enamored by you.

As you bent down to set the drink in the sand, the bottom of your small pink bikini slipped inward, revealing the smooth, sand-dusted skin of your plump little butt. Then you plopped down on the beach towel next to your friend and popped open the bottle of sunscreen.

Choso watched – rather shamelessly – as you sprayed some of it onto you arm, rubbing it in. You held the canister towards your chest at arms length and released some more of the sheer spray onto the skin there. It trickled down, catching the light of the sun, dripping down between your breasts–

A pair of hairy, pale legs obstructed the view. 

“Found a sand dollar,” Spoke none other than the world’s quirkiest little brother, Yuuji Itadori. In a rather fitting slow-pan up to his face, Choso took note of the dorky goggles that he had popped over his eyes. He was shirtless. You would think that the man would have learned that you don’t need to go deep sea diving at the beach by now. “You guys coming?”

Megumi took the words right out of Choso’s mouth. Or, actually, ‘word’ might be more fitting. 

“No.”

“I’ll pass,” Choso sighed, repositioning his sunglasses over his eyes. Silently, of course, he cursed his brother for putting on such a show in front of – what was he talking about? Choso Kamo… letting his desires cloud his love for his brother? He usually wasn’t this bad. “I thought I threw those out on you?”

“I bought new ones,” Yuuji muttered. He practically tore the goggles from his face, sending locks of pink hair standing up in the air. Tossing them to the side, he plopped between Megumi and Choso on the picnic blanket.

“Of course you did,” Megumi, who had, for a brief – but beautiful – moment been alluded into believing his friend had decided to keep his remarkable lack of social awareness to himself, reached into the cooler they had filled earlier that day and produced a much needed refreshment. 

“Hi!”

Choso, Yuuji and Megumi all turned their heads toward the sound.

It was you. His ‘crush’, as Yuuji had embarrassingly called it. And, shit, you looked even prettier up close. Your hair looked so soft. So did your–

He shook the thoughts away. 

“Sorry to bother ‘ya,” You lowered your head apologetically. You extended your arm out towards the three men. Clutched in your small hand was the bottle of sunscreen you had been using before Yuuji had caught Choso’s attention. “My friend is out cold. Could you just get my back for me?”

Choso felt his face grow red at the mere prospect of being so close to you. He had never had the courage to actually reach out and touch you. He felt as if, for some odd reason he didn’t quite understand, his touch would have killed you. You had always been so sweet to him, offering him small talk, refreshments, and friendly jokes when it was just the two of you away from the group.

“Not a problem, Sensei,” Yuuji replied rather quickly. 

He reached for the bottle. Before he could grab it, Megumi jabbed his elbow harshly into the back of Yuuji’s neck.

“Bitch, ow,” He hissed.

The glare Megumi shot him could have been heard from ten miles away. Choso sighed, refraining from shaking his head.

“I think he’s sick. I’ll bring him to the infirmary,” Megumi added quietly, standing up rather abruptly and taking Yuuji with him. 

Yuuji babbled mindlessly the whole way back.

Highschoolers.

Choso looked back to you. Just you. Alone. He felt his hands get all clammy again. He blamed it on the sun. You were holding the bottle expectantly. 

“Uh… I can… I can help, if you’re okay with that,” He looked away, internally kicking himself for fumbling so hard. 

You only tilted your head at him. Your eyes were so pretty, wide open as they lingered over his body, his eyes, his nose. Your gaze was a wildfire spreading over the expanse of his face.

It was then that he realized he was very, very shirtless.

“‘Kay, thanks,” you smiled softly.

As you laid down on the beach blanket, Choso felt his heart race even faster. He could hardly believe this was all happening – hell, part of him wondered if he had overstepped by offering his services to you. The sun beat down on your skin, his head, the sand – he blamed the warmth flooding his face on the weather. 

You were laid on your stomach only a few inches away, completely oblivious to his moral dilemma. 

He took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself while he reached for the bottle of sunscreen you had set onto the blanket beside you. With hands that trembled ever-so-slightly, he uncapped the bottle and squeezed a small amount onto his palm. The sunscreen was cool to the touch – so, not wanting to cause you even the slightest bit of discomfort, he warmed it up between his hands.

He then hesitantly placed his hands on the smooth valley of your upper back. 

You gasped, twitching beneath his palms. 

“Did I hurt you?” He asked quickly, withdrawing his hands.

“No, sorry,” You sighed, shifting on the blanket and then relaxing once more. “Your hands are cold ‘s all.”

Choso felt the blush coming on all over again. He hoped you wouldn’t turn your head back around and see him like this. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, averting his gaze. 

“You’re all good, hot stuff,” You offered. “You can keep going.”

His face burned like hell at your compliment. He knew you were that way with everyone, dropping little ‘babe’s and ‘honey’s to your friends and fellow sorcerers. He wasn’t anything special, anyway. Surely, you weren’t talking to him.

He replaced his hands on your back, touch delicate like your skin would crack if he pressed too hard. He started with broad strokes, making sure to spread the sunscreen across your skin evenly. His fingers splayed out over your warm, soft skin, moving in circles. He massaged the sunscreen into your back with a tenderness that surprised even himself.

He wasn’t sure what this stuff actually did. He had seen some of Yuuji’s Jujutsu friends slather some on earlier. Judging by the name, he assumed it protected them from the sun. From what, though? Could the sun hurt some humans? He didn’t really understand.

“You’re wondering something,” You asked, seemingly sensing his pensiveness by the way his hands slowed. “Ask away.”

Choso bit the skin on the inside of his lip, “This lotion…” he asked, “What does it do?”

“Sunscreen?” You hummed. “It forms a layer over your skin so you don’t get sunburnt.”

“Sunburnt…” He reiterated. 

“Yeah, that shit hurts,” You added. “I’m guessing Itadori never gave you the run-up on beach necessities…?”

“I guess not,” He remarked quietly.

“I can show you how to apply yours if you want,” You said.

Choso’s heart felt like it would burst. “Okay,” he said, pausing slightly. “I’d like that, thanks.”

Then he was back to his job. His hands smoothed over your back, dipping down a little lower until his thumb brushed against the strap of your bikini. He felt suddenly aware of how soft and warm you felt beneath his touch. 

He was dangerously close to the knot in the string that held your whole getup together. He worried for a moment that the dainty bow would come undone – by some strange, supernatural turn of events – despite him making a great effort to move around it. 

Choso’s breath hitched when his finger caught on the string, making the knot snap against your skin. He froze up, heart pounding in his chest, perfectly still over your body. The string felt like a fragile barrier between your warm skin and his cold touch, between your body and the thoughts that raced through his mind.

He wondered if you found him weird and off-putting. His gaze flickered up to your face, leaning over slightly, searching your face for any sign of discomfort. 

But when he looked into your eyes, he found you were looking at him with the same curiosity. You smiled at him, pretty lips forming a reassuring expression, wordlessly encouraging him to keep going. 

Slowly, unsurely, Choso continued his ministrations. He trailed two digits down your spine, stopping at the string. He felt a knot beneath the skin there. He knew sorcerers put themselves through rigorous training. He didn’t doubt that you were feeling sore from the mission you had just come back from a few days ago.

“You’re tense here,” He said quietly.

You turned your head to look at him, “Yeah?” 

“Right here,” He pinpointed the exact area with his knuckles, pressing deep into the tissue. 

In response, you moaned quietly, back shifting beneath his touch. His shorts seemed to get just a little bit tighter. 

Calm down.

“You got magic hands, Choso,” You quipped, though your voice was strained as he passed over the knot a second time. “You could be a masseuse.”

He felt his nerves subside only slightly, though he felt flustered by your words.

You got magic hands.

You could be a masseuse.

Unbeknownst to him, the sensation of his touch created a pleasant tingling beneath your skin. You closed your eyes, letting him take the reins.

Choso continued to work his fingers over your back, feeling the tension slowly melt away beneath his touch. He had used up the last of the sunscreen to cover your lower back, the skin just above your bottom, and he realized his job was done.

“I think that should do it,” He said softly, voice tinged with reluctance as he removed his hands from your back.

You sat up, stretching, turning towards him, eyes sparkling, “Thanks, Cho, you’re a lifesaver.”

You’re a lifesaver.

A shy smile tugged at his lips, “Of course.”

Then, to his surprise, you asked. “You’re sweet. Mind if I sit with you?”

Choso felt his heart skip more than one beat. His eyes widened. He looked at the sand, the shoreline, anything but you. “Sure,” he said.

Smooth, dumbass.

You grinned and pushed yourself up, saying, “I’ll be right back.”

Choso took a moment to collect his thoughts as you left. He was getting ahead of himself. Way ahead of himself. Stll, you had chosen to spend more time with him. You wanted to sit with him. 

Conveniently, only a brief moment after you had stepped away, Megumi returned with Yuuji in tow. Choso quirked a brow at the speed of their return.

“That was quick,” he remarked.

Megumi shrugged, “Took him to get ice cream on the boardwalk instead.”

“You get her number?” Yuuji asked.

“I was doing her a favor,” Choso’s calm facade broke. With wide eyes, he hissed, “Pervert.”

“Dumbass,” Yuuji sucked his teeth.. “Look, tonight’s the night to make a move. When else would you find yourself alone with her like this?”

And before Choso could respond, you came back, holding a speaker in one hand. “I brought snacks!” You smiled.

Some time around sundown, sometime after Getou had summoned up one of his low-grade curses to start a fire, the beach day transformed itself into a fireside chat. It was a picturesque scene. The sky was a canvas of blue, with hues of pink and orange painted over the horizon. It was mostly empty there, now. The waves lapped calmly at the shore, a quiet noise that seemed to accompany the quiet chatter of friends gathered around a fire.

There was laughter, groups of people indulged in conversations. Everyone seemed so calm, so happy, it almost seemed to good to be true.

Megumi and Itadori were caught in a cock-off with Maki. Nobara stargazing on her and Maki’s beach blanket. Gojo and Getou were talking in his direction, but not necessarily at him.

“I just think you have an unfair drinking advantage because you’re a man,” You were saying just off to Choso’s side.

The mood was light. Everyone seemed to be content. 

Choso, however, couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from you. The warm, fading sunlight seemed to caress your features from the side, highlighting your pretty smile and making your eyes shimmer. He found himself completely and utterly enamored by you.

You and Getou had cracked open a bottle of Tequila about an hour ago. Getou’s boyfriend long-term-long-distance-low-commitment-casual-boyfriend, Satoru Gojo was red in the face, slouched against the bare chest revealed by Getou’s unbuttoned floral shirt. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Gojo chuckled, letting Getou top off his fourth shot of the night.

Getou denied any relationship with Gojo. Their eyes betrayed them, though. The connection was evident in the loving glances they exchanged. 

You had a faint flush of your own, though you had only taken two shots so far.

He tried two of his own, only because you didn’t want to do them alone. He had never been big on drinking. He just didn’t want to seem like a pussy.

“Why don’t you pour me one so we can test that theory?” Nobara nudged you in the side.

Choso watched the scene unfold with mild interest.

“Because you’re a minor,” You said.

Nobara pouted, leaning back onto her blanket. “Not like I’ve never drank before.”

Maki chimed in over her shoulder, “Got vomit stains on my carpet to prove it.”

“Shut up,” She bit back. 

You handled the situation effortlessly. “I don’t condone teen drinking,” You began, your voice softening as you continued, “But. I know the four you will probably go hit up one of those beachside bars tonight with your fake IDs anyway.”

“Fake IDs?” Gojo looked at Megumi out of the corner of his eye. Megumi did not look back.

You clapped. Choso’s ears perked up at the sound.

“That being said!” You raised your voice a bit. “I would rather you drink something less potent. Under adult supervision.”

You turned to Getou and Gojo, who exchanged knowing glances before nodding their approval. Choso couldn’t help but be impressed.

“So who wants a Malibu rum spritzer?” You clasped your hands together.

Excitement rippled through the group, and all of the kids, yes all of the kids, Including Yuuji, eagerly raised their hands. 

Choso shot his brother a disapproving glare, one that dissipated the moment you leaned in, laying your head on his shoulder. Your voice, soft and smooth like your skin, enticed him as you sing-songed, “Let the kid live a little.”

It was rather remarkable, actually, how quickly his defenses melted at your gentle persuasion. He sighed in resignation. “Alright.”

You grinned up at him, effortlessly stealing his breath away. 

“Great,” you said, getting up from your spot without another word. “I’ll go get them from my car. Don’t wait up for me, I walk real slow.”

Turning your attention back to Choso, you looked at him with a warmth behind your gaze he couldn’t quite place. “Choso, sweetie, could you help me carry the cooler?”

His heart soared at your request – at the prospect of you wanting his assistance. He got to his feet quickly, eager to help. 

The sand felt cool beneath his feet as he followed your lead. 

The moon hung low in the sky as you and Choso strolled through the parking lot, searching for your jeep. The temperature had dropped quite a few notches from earlier, cold breeze rustling through Choso’s hair. 

When you spotted your ride, you said, “There it is!”

Choso followed wordlessly behind you. He was still quite nervous that – for the second time today – it was just you and him… alone. Yuuji’s words echoed through his mind.

“When else would you find yourself alone with her like this?”

You popped the door to the backseat open, sitting on the floor – your truck was raised a bit off the ground, so it didn’t put you too far below him. 

“My legs are so fucking sore,” You sighed. You dusted your leg off with the backside of your bare foot. When you peered up at him through those long, dense lashes of yours, he felt himself fall for you a second time. 

You asked him, “Mind if we take a little break?”

Choso nodded along like the dumb little dog he was for you.

You pushed yourself up and away from the truck, gesturing for him to get inside. It didn’t take much at all for him to step into it and take a seat. You settled in right next to him – perhaps a little closer to Choso than was strictly necessary. He couldn’nt help the pleasant shiver that went down his spine at the feeling of you sitting next to him; so warm, so soft, so perfect.

You let out a contented sigh and leaned your head on his shoulder once more. “I got tired of bein’ social,” You confessed.

He tried hard not to quirk a brow at the admission. Am I an exception?

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” He asked sincerely. He tried even harder to ignore the warm weight of your small head on his shoulder.

So close.

“No,” You hummed quietly. The interior light faded away, gently submerging the two of you in darkness. He could still see your face, your eyes – the way they seemed to sparkle as they looked up at him. “You’re different.”

Choso’s heart took the liberty of skipping one, two, three beats. 

You continued without allowing him time to come up with an adequate response. “Can I be honest with you, Choso?”

His cheeks flushed. Still, curiosity piqued, he muttered, “Of course.”

Your voice was soft and vulnerable when you replied, “I think you’re really hot.”

If his face wasn’t hot, it sure was now. He turned away even though he knew you couldn’t see him blushing. 

She thinks I’m hot?

Does that mean she likes me?

You had nothing but sincerity in your eyes while you gazed up at him. “You feel the same way, don’t you?”

He bit his tongue, answering honestly, “I do.”

He hated how calm and collected he sounded. On the outside, he was the image of composure. On the inside, he was dying a hundred times over. 

You grinned at his admission. “Can I ask you something else, then?”

His lips suddenly felt very dry. He tried his best to focus on the street outside, counting landmarks and objects like his life depended on it – two seagulls, five wooden posts, two dim street lights.

“Sure,” he said.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked. “I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

And, dammit, when you asked him like that – he could practically feel the last of his resolve crumble beneath your gaze, beneath the weight of your head on his shoulder, beneath your gentle touch on his knee that he hadn’t noticed until now.

You were so close. So close that if he turned his head, angled it down just slightly, your noses would touch. He felt your breath, warm and steady against his neck – a calming symphony that contrasted the trembling mess he had become,

Yuuji’s words played on repeat again. Tonight’s the night to make a move.

He was such a fool for you. Still, he considered himself to be a man of restraint.

His voice was small and scarce, hardly above a whisper when he breathed out, “Yeah.”

Time seemed to slow down as your request hung out in the air. He could feel the anticipation building, buzzing. His heart pounded against his ribcage like a mallet to a gong. He had spent months wondering what would happen if you – by some odd, small chance – returned his affections, and now, with your vulnerability laid bare, he couldn’t resist any longer.

He considered himself to be a man of restraint, that was, until he peered into your wide, longingful eyes. 

With a barely noticeable nod, Choso turned his head just slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. Just as he had anticipated, your noses brushed together – he could feel the warmth of your breath on his lips. 

You were magnetic.

And in that final, heart-pounding moment, your lips met in the middle – in a gentle, tender union. Choso’s hand seemed to find its own way to your cheek, touch soft as he cupped your cheek. He felt for some odd reason that you might vanish altogether if he let you go.

He wasn’t entirely sure if it had been you or him who deepened the kiss. Either way, he felt himself melt into the seat. The world outside seemed to fade away, ceasing to exist in your presence. None of it mattered – not the empty, public street, not the group of friends waiting on the beach for his return.

Yuuji. 

Choso pulled away with a shuddering gasp, pressing his forehead against yours. He licked his lips, panting, “The drinks… We– we should probably– uh… get those.”

He feared that if his heart beat any faster he would explode.

You made no effort to put any distance between you and him. In fact, you put your hands on his shoulders, moving yourself so that you were situated comfortably in his lap. 

“There’s no rush,” You hummed. “Getou and Gojo are probably off sucking face somewhere, and those kids have been keeping themselves entertained just fine. Who would notice?”

His eyes were everywhere but your face. For a half-curse, he found himself to be no better than a man, hungry eyes wandering over your body – your eyes, your lips, the subtle curve of your waist, the fabric of your bikini that seemed like it was hugging you just right.

You seemed to have caught him in the act. 

“Do you wanna touch me, Choso?” You asked, and it sounded like an invitation.

Still, he worried he was reading too deeply into things. Doing his best to refrain from making you feel any sort of discomfort, he swallowed, “I…”

He was about to fucking explode – both metaphorically and physically, judging by the way his shorts began to tighten again at your words.

“You think I didn’t see you staring today?” You continued, letting your fingers slip into his hair. 

He wanted to freeze up, wanted to feel some form of remorse, but when you were massaging his scalp so gently, so lovingly…

“I’m  sorry,” he lied.

“Don’t be,” You giggled, and he felt his stomach do a fucking flip at the sound of it. You leaned in close to him, close to his ear, and whispered into it, “I was staring, too.”

He felt like such a virgin, thighs tensing up at your admission. He thought of you on the beach again – sneaking sideways glances at him, at his body, at him…

He felt his resolve break when you pressed a soft kiss to the shell of his ear. 

“Kiss– Kiss me again,” he breathed, feeling slightly lightheaded from all of the attention you were giving him. You placed another kiss to the corner of his jaw. “Please… kiss me again.”

You pulled away, pressing your nose right up against his again. Your breaths were shallow and ragged now – strange. “You want me, baby boy?”

Baby boy. Baby boy, fuck.

He licked his lips, “Please.”

And then your lips were on his without so much as another word. You ate him up like a starved woman, teeth nipping at his lower lip for entry.

The last of his restraint flew out the window.

The kiss was electrifying, sent sparks shooting through his veins, fingertips tingling as they found their way to your hips. It was a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. He could taste you – the sweetness of your lipgloss as it smeared messily over the lower half of his face, the beat of your heart thrumming beneath his touch, the scent of sunscreen that lingered on your skin.

He found himself getting lost in the moment.

He deepened the kiss further, gripping your hips, your lower back with a bit more confidence. For a moment, he could forget about his responsibilities, his past. It didn’t matter; not now, not when he could feel your body pressed up against him, hot and soft and compliant.

His face burned when he felt that familiar tingling feeling – he knew he was getting hard beneath you, he could feel the way your hips lifted when you adjusted yourself over the tent in his shorts. 

However, to his surprise, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you pressed into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing yourself even closer. He felt dizzy, sliding his tongue across your wet lips, exploring your mouth. You tangled your fingers in his touseled black locks, rolling your hips against his slowly, hesitantly, like you were testing the waters. 

The jolt of electricity he felt from that small movement had him pulling away. Even in the midst of the fervor, Choso was acutely aware of his own impulses. He feared he was getting too far ahead of himself; if you kept rubbing yourself against him like that, he was gonna cream his fucking pants like a middle schooler.

“Wait, wait– ah–” He grunted, leaning back against the seat.

“Hmm?” You hummed – still, you only slowed down a little bit.

His mouth hung open. It felt so good, the friction, the feeling of your warmth rolling up and down the thin layer of fabric separating the two of you. Fuck — why did he tell you to stop, again?

He fought hard to regain his composure. “I– I’ve never done this before,” he stammered.

“Really?” You asked, teasingly, almost, like you knew the effect you had on him. You rutted up against him again, a little harder. “You’re a natural.”

He could feel you – the thin cloth covering your nether regions left little to the imagination. You felt so warm, so welcoming. He ached to pull the thin fabric to the side and sink into you.

Fuck. Stop. He turned his head away, at war with his impulses.

Again, for a half-curse, he felt like nothing more than a man. A weak man, and it was all your fault.

The whine that left his mouth felt anything but natural. “Won’t– What if someone sees us?”

You said nothing. When he looked back at you, you were undoing the knot behind your head – the one holding your bikini together.

His eyes went wide. If his attraction to you were any more obvious, his jaw would have been on the floor. 

“Let them watch,” You grinned. Then you let your top fall over, breasts spilling out like something out of a porno. 

He was in awe. You were perfect. There were little bits of sand stuck to the skin where your bikini lay only seconds prior, faint tanlines already forming over your skin. He felt his mouth water.

“You can touch them, if you want,” You answered his unasked question.

And he wasted no time, gently cupping one of your tits with his large, warm palm. He gave it an experimental squeeze. Then another. Then his thumb wandered down to your nipple, giving the bud a gentle flick.

You whind, hand sliding up the back of his head. 

She likes that, he noted.

So, deciding to take his experiment a step further – and for the sake of conserving time, he began peppering kisses to your hot skin, to the valley between your soft, plush mounds. He held both in his hands, rolling his thumb over the hardened buds to compensate for the lack of attention.

He wanted nothing more than to take his sweet, precious time with you – committing every curve and valley of your body to memory. But, alas, he knew you were on a time crunch. Any minute now, someone could find the two of you here, like this.

He kissed his way back over to his hands. Then, finally, he wrapped his lips around that place he knew made you feel good. 

Sure enough, you arched into him, pink, swollen lips parting to release a pant of his name, “Choso, baby.”

He flattened his tongue over the tip of your nipple, rolling over it in slow circles – then quicker ones, until he felt the spit gathering between his lips and your skin. You responded in kind by rutting against him a little faster. He had never felt a burn quite so delightful in his life.

He can’t quite help himself from letting out a little whine when you tug on his hair. The flavor of sunscreen and salt lingered on your skin. He felt hot– you were hot, oh so hot.

Before he could return the favor on the other nipple, you pushed him away. You looked disheveled, pupils blown wide, hair frizzed up.

“Y’feel so big,” You gasped, still humping his hard cock like a dog in heat. You stopped, but only to sink into the space between his legs and the back of the driver’s seat. Splaying your fingers over his thighs, his shorts, you panted, “Wanna taste. Can I?”

He could only blink up at you. This isn’t real.

“Of course, baby,” He replied, throwing the nickname from earlier back at you, already reaching for the strings of his swim trunks when you batted his hands away. Your enthusiasm made his head spin.

He let you take the reigns – watching with hungry, lustful eyes as you undid the bow yourself. You reached for the waistband of his shorts, tugging them down and letting his dick spring free. 

It nearly hit you in the face, how big the thing was. He had never actually thought about it that way, at least, not until now, when you were gazing up at it with wide eyes and wet, parted lips. 

Your eyes were on his tip, glistening with a bead of precum, then wandering down the shaft as the two of you watched it drip.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

You didn’t bother pulling his pants the rest of the way down, or even acknowledging his comment. No, the moment the waistband was out of the way, you were swallowing him whole.

Choso exhaled sharply, nearly doubling over at the sensation of your warm mouth closing in around him. He felt the muscles in his abdomen tense with the strain of it – he thought he could cum like this, with your lips stretched around him, and he didn’t really think he would mind testing that theory.

His skin was hot. He burned for you.

You pulled up. Sucking him back into your mouth, you hollowed your cheeks. Then you throated him again, right up until your nose brushed his navel. He felt himself throb in your mouth.

“Fuck, ‘s good,” He heard himself whimper weakly, tangling a trembling hand in your hair while you picked up the pace.

And you went at it like you were made for it. Up and down, up and down, fitting him all the way in until the head of his cock bumped the back of your throat. Over and over again, until his vision blurred a bit at the edges, mind a little hazy with lust.

You were sucking and slurping on him so lewdly – fuck, he could die like this. 

You didn’t show any signs of stopping, either.

He moaned – much to his embarrassment – actually moaned. You were working him rather quickly up to what he knew would be an earth shattering (albeit poorly timed) orgasm. 

You made a noise in response, though it was broken up by the nasty, dirty sound you made every time you gagged on his dick. You peered up at him through half-lidded eyes, through long, wispy lashes, leaving a trail of saliva running down his thighs that he didn’t even mind.

Choso caressed the side of your face, biting his lip. “Mmh,” he panted, “You do it so well.”

In response, you put a hand over his. You directed his gentle touch to the top of your head, instructing him to push down. Hesitantly, gently, he began to guide your head, bobbing you back and forth on his length while you sat back and let him use you. 

He noticed that you were struggling to fit the whole thing in your mouth. He saw that there were tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but he knew you were determined. He used his thumb to wipe your tears away, tucking your hair behind your ears to keep it out of your face.

With a shudder and a whine, he pushed your head down a little further. You gagged on it again, swallowing him down, tightening your throat around him like you were made to suck dick.

If this was to be his last night alive, he would die a happy man.

His legs felt weak, as did his arms. You took over, gently assisting him in fucking your mouth. 

“Ah– nnh, you’re–” He licked his lips, guiding your head while allowing you to continue setting your own pace. You were making him feel so good, so hot.

You pulled back for a moment to slurp unceremoniously on his tip, letting spit drip down his shaft. You wrapped your hands around him, working what you couldn’t fit into your mouth while your tongue did tricks on his tip – circles, shapes, letters, he didn’t even know anymore.

He felt like he was going dumb.

Just as he leaned his head back into the seat, you pulled off, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Got carried away,” You giggled breathlessly. “Sorry.”

Then you were climbing right back into his lap, bracing your hands on his shoulders, kissing him with a ravenous hunger. 

“I’m not gonna blue ball you, don’t worry,” You licked your lips. Reaching down, you slipped the fabric of your bikini thong to the side. “I want you.”

“H–...” He trailed off, fighting to catch his breath – better yet, to regain his surroundings. “How do you want me?”

In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to feel you sink down onto him, to feel your warmth envelop him entirely. He wanted you to ride him past the point of hypersensitivity. He wanted you to use him until you were satisfied – like some sort of fuck toy.

He didn’t care anymore. He had left his inhibitions at the door. 

“Wanna fuck you right here, like this,” You muttered against his lips, licking a stripe from his chin all the way to his cupid’s bow. You guided the head of his dick between your folds, smearing your slick all over him in a way that made him arch up. “Wanna drain that pretty cock of yours, wanna cum all over it– can you do that for me?”

You were so nasty… so dirty that he found himself a red, blushing mess at your words. But, still…

For you?

Anything.

“Yes,” he groaned. He felt like he was going to melt if he waited another moment longer. “Fuck, please, use me until you’re satisfied.”

He hadn’t even thought about saying it. It had slipped out.

You paused, blinking down at him with wide, lustful eyes. Finally, you said, “you’re such a good puppy, you know that?”

He would be whatever the hell you wanted him to be.

“G’nna let me ride you, pretty boy?” You cooed, sliding your hands up his torso, up his bare chest, up his shoulders while you hovered over him. 

This was moving quickly. Not like he had any objections to that, of course. Clearly, you didn’t either. As you positioned the tip in line with your dripping cunt, sinking down onto him, he felt his eyes roll back into his head.

He gasped, letting his eyelids fall shut. He didn’t even care that he was losing his virginity in the backseat of his coworker’s truck like some cheap whore. He would let you take it, take more, take everything you wanted from him.

You lifted your hips and then sank down on him again, eliciting a strangled grunt of your name from him. The filthy squelching sound your cunt made as it squeezed him in threw him for a loop.

He leaned forward, shivering, burning his head in your neck. “S’too tight,” he panted, though he let you continue working on him with a remarkable amount of ease – sliding back and forth in a way that had the both of you panting for more. “Fucking– shit, ah–”

“Chosooo– ‘S so big,” You moaned his name like it was made of honey, fucking yourself down onto his dick, letting all of the sinful noises flow from your lips. “Fuck, feel it in my guts.”

He would have thought you were lying to him if it weren’t for your spectacle earlier.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he breathed. When he looked up at you again, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. You were the image of pornographic beauty – sinful, beautiful, sultry. Your brows were scrunched together with concentration, legs trembling around him as you slowed down to savor the way he worked you open.

“Pretty baby,” He mused, running his hands over your stomach, your hips. “You keep goin’ like that ‘n– fuck– I won’t– Last long.”

“Mmh,” you giggled.

Then you picked up the speed a bit, like you hadn’t even heard what he had just said. You were rising and sinking on his dick with newfound purpose, chasing after the promise of paradise like a wild animal.

“Look at me,” he begged, eyes half-lidded and desperate, tongue running across his lower lip. “Fu-uck– please, ‘M...”

You obeyed, meeting his gaze with such a fiery passion that he almost wished he hadn’t asked you – feeling that coil in his gut grow a little tighter when your hazy eyes were on him. You bounced obediently on his cock, up and down, up and down until you were a grunting, groaning mess. 

“Mm… fuckkk,” You sighed, hips faltering a bit. “Feels good, Choso.”

Choso felt his hips twitch beneath you, hands tensing on your backside. Then, slowly, he began to meet your thrusts midway. His ass lifted off of the seat, legs spreading a bit further apart while he used his strength to continue fucking you senseless.

He was mesmerized by you, by the way you clenched and squeezed him, by the way your mouth lolled open to make way for broken cries of his name, by the way your tits bounced in his face whenever he thrusted up into you.

He worried for a moment that he was being too harsh with you. 

“Harder– please!” You gasped, clawing at his shoulders, at his chest.

Still, he obeyed. He fucked you dumb, hips snapping up against your ass with such strength that the whole car lurched forward. Your head came dangerously close to the ceiling.

But he didn’t have the guts to stop. Not when you were screaming for him, repeating his name like some sort of mantra. He was as weak for you as he had always been.

“Choso– Choso–”

The feeling of your warm, wet walls massaging the head of his cock had him whimpering into the crook of your neck. It was a hot, gummy abyss he wouldn’t mind getting sucked into for the remainder of his life. 

“You like that?” He asked you, spare hand sliding up from your hips, past your breasts, to your neck. 

He knew now that you liked it rough. He could provide that. 

So, with no further warning, he gripped your hip roughly, sliding into you at full force. You cried out his name again, fingernails digging into his skin. 

The car bounced every time he pounded up into you. Faster, faster. 

It felt like you were squeezing him for dear life. 

Choso cried out, a broken whine as he slowed his thrusts for a minute to a much slower pace. Feeling your perfect pussy clenching around him, he nearly doubled over from the sudden pleasure. “Please,” he gasped, laying his head back. “Fuck, that’s good.”

You bit your lip, sliding up until it was just the tip left inside of you, and then slamming back down onto him at full force. You repeated this action a few more times, lips parted to make way for the sinful… sultry moans that passed from between them. Clearly, you were relishing in the way he squirmed and gasped beneath you.

He couldn’t blame you. He knew that he, too was doing everything he could to commit this scene to memory, wild eyes raking over your body, over the junction where you met him. The way you were riding him… shit, he didn’t know he would be able to make the walk back. 

You looked so obscene like this, all fucked out, dumb on his dick.

Throwing your head back, you groaned.

He was gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. Fuck, he knew that– cursed strength and all. But he couldn’t bring himself to slow down.

“So f-fucking good,” he stammered. He sought out your lips again, snapping his hips up against your ass mercilessly. For someone who had been so concerned about being discovered a little while ago, his quiet grunts and gasps turned into moans and whimpers against your sore lips. Louder and louder.

Admittedly, though, he was more focused on the noises coming out of your own mouth. You were practically screaming for him.

He had no idea that sex could even feel so mind-numbingly good. For him, especially, but for you…?

You froze up rather suddenly, hips spasming wildly, toes curling up on either side of his thighs while you gasped brokenly. 

“FUCK!”

There it was.

He felt his face burn. You cried his name again, bouncing up and down on it, wildly chasing after that high. “Choso– m’close–”

“You gonna cum, pretty girl?” He hummed, once again throwing your nickname back at you. He grinned, knowing full and well that he had cracked the code. So he kept that same speed, same pace, same everything while his fingers dropped from your neck to the mess you had made between the two of you.

He knew what to do now – surprisingly enough. He had done some… internet research after his brother had broken the meaning of his feelings down to him (along with what Choso was to do when his crush came to fruition). 

What? Curses didn’t make love. Sex was transactional.

He was curious about how sex was on the human side of things.

He ran his tongue over his thumb, reaching between the steamy, sweaty union of your bodies to find your clit. He pressed down, rolling over the nub in quick, expert circles. 

One look up at you, and he knew you were close to your breaking point. You looked like you were about to pass out, letting yourself be thrown around on his wild hips like a ragdoll. You were too weak to move, so you sat there and took his dick like a good girl, eyes glazed over with pleasure while he fucked you dumb.

You looked like you were in love.

Choso sped his ministrations over your clit up a little faster, feeling the knot in his own stomach begin to grow faster than he wanted. He was in another world, out of this plane, hypnotized. 

All he could see in that moment was your angelic face above him, face scrunched up in pleasure – and partially in pain, as he bullied his cock into your cervix – sweat rolling down your neck, your breasts, your voluptuous body.

“Mine–” You gasped out, clawing at his shoulder blades while your back arched. “Oh– fuck! Th’s dick ‘s mine, mmh?”

It was.

He nodded. But, clearly, that wasn’t good enough. Your hand shot out to grip him by the neck, painted fingernails digging into his throat. 

“‘S yours,” He gasped back into your mouth. “All yours, I swear– ah–”

You were so hot. It made him feel things– feel like he was dying over and over again in the best way possible.

That along with the way your hand gripped his throat – using your small thumb to cut off his blood supply for a few seconds too long before loosening your grip, letting him gasp for air as the blood came rushing back – he felt lightheaded.

The way your pussy was spasming around him certainly didn’t do anything to help. He knew you were close, shit, but could you hold on a minute?

You were gonna make him cum too fast.

“You’re mine, yeah?” You asked again, keeping your grip strong on his neck. “All mine?”

“M’yours,” The cursed womb grunted against your neck. His brows were furrowed in concentration. His teeth nipped at the sensitive skin, careful not to leave marks. “All yours.”

He meant it. Even though he would have said anything you asked him to at this point, he really meant it. He hoped you knew that.

Judging by the way you came a moment later with a stutter of your hips and a strangled cry of, “Cho–”, he assumed you understood. 

Your cunt was a warm, wet, death trap, walls milking his cock for all it was worth. 

Shit, he thought. You really weren’t lying about that.

His dark eyes were burning into yours, burning with a desire so intense he felt he might burst at the seams if he kept looking a moment longer. 

“Want you to cum inside of me,” You commanded him, holding his head in your trembling hands. “Fill me up, please, I need it.”

His eyes widened, blinking down at the white ring you had made around the base of his dick. His eyes flitted back up to you, pleading with you to let him go. Pleading for you to give the soul that you stole from him back,

“I can’t–” he released a trembling breath.  

He thought of himself as a father raising a child. Right now, it didn’t seem so bad.

“Please, ‘m on the pill,” you begged him, gazing into his eyes like you knew he wasn’t strong enough to refuse. “Wanna feel it dripping out of me. Think about it– what– ah– what would they think? … If they knew–”

You gasped when he delivered a harsh smack to your ass, slowing his strokes so that he could savor the way you sucked him in. “If they knew we snuck off to fuck? That– that I had your cum dripping out of me while they ask what took us so long?”

“Fuckk,” Choso groaned, hips trembling beneath you. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, cheeks burning. His breaths – and yours – had fogged the windows up.

You squeezed around him one more time, placing a tender kiss to his lips. You muttered into his mouth, “Do it f’me… please, Choso.”

“Mmh–!” And that was all it took. Choso rolled his hips up into you one more time, twitching, whining, feeling your warmth spasm around him as he spilled into you. He drove as deep up into you as he could – holding onto you for dear life while the coil snap, and he came so hard that his legs gave out. Lots of it. 

So much that he felt it drip out.

You sought another kiss from him, sealing your lips together. When you pulled away, you giggled, “Good boy. Good puppy.”

“God,” he shuddered, falling back against the headrest once his orgasm subsided. You fell against his chest, snuggling up to him.

And Choso, not knowing what else to do, pressed a kiss to the top of your head. To his surprise, you didn’t immediately leave him in the dust. Instead, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, basking in the warmth of your post-coital bliss. 

You broke the silence after a minute or two. 

“So…” You began, trailing a finger up his bare chest. “Help me carry that cooler back to the beach?”

And Choso, breathless, felt himself begin to laugh.

The two of you came back onto the beach. Choso was carting the cooler behind while you walked ahead, waving your friends down. 

As you approached, Itadori remarked with crossed arms, “The hell have you guys been?” His hair was done up into two, pink, little pigtails. It was clear as day that Nobara had a hand in his current hairstyle.

“Oh!” You had grinned rather awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “We– Well, we realized we didn’t have as many spritzers as I thought. Had to make a run to the liquor store.”

Itadori raised a brow. Still, if he noticed something, he didn’t say anything about it. “Uh huh.”

Choso bent down to set the cooler onto the ground, back turned to the group.

Getou peeped up from his paperback novel, lips twitching at the sight of Choso’s back. He nudged his counterpart, Gojo.

Who nearly spat out his drink.

You sat on the beach blanket nearest to Gojo and Getou. The moment your butt hit the sand, you practically collapsed into the ground. 

You could feel eyes on you. So, begrudgingly, you rolled over, throwing Satoru a weak glare. “What?”

He only nodded towards Choso.

You turned around, following his gaze. It settled over his back. He bent down, picking a few spritzers out of the ice. It was then that you noticed the harsh red claw marks on his shoulderblades. 

Subconsciously, your gaze drifted down to your hips, to the skin where purple imprints of Choso’s fingertips stood out as clear as day.

You gasped, then, clamping a hand over your mouth.

“So,” Gojo began casually, handing you a shot. He leaned in, ocean blue eyes twinkling as he teased you, “Was he gentle? He seems like he would give it rough.”

You turned to his not-boyfriend, brows furrowed. “Suguruuu…”

It was with no great amount of satisfaction that Getou looked up from his novel. “Satoru,” he sighed languidly. “Not in front of ths kids.”

Gojo ignored his not-boyfriend’s remark. “Was it big?”

You sank back into the blanket, feeling the heat of your embarrassment burn your cheeks as your words from earlier came back to bite you in the ass.

Who would notice?

a/n: hello there my precious little sugarplums! I hope u enjoyed the first installment of my kinktober writings ( which will prob continue throughout the fall bc I started hella late ). send in requests! there's no part two to this, but I would write one if enough ppl requested it. yk the drill though, comment ur thoughts/wishes below! I love reading them. reblogs are alway always always appreciated bc my reach is ass on Tumblr...

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

credits: cover artist(s) unknown??, dividers: @bpdier, @cafekitsune

taglist: @missphanosaur18 , @bontensbabygirl, @megumissunshine, @chocoyanchan, @littlelovebug98, @lucisimpongod, @xochyw, @jaegerstan222 , @electro-supremacy, @mellytheteddy, @clover0310 , @soraya-daydreams, @priussy, @insanehumantinker, @staygoldsquatchling02, @nonksity, @hinata7346, @chososwhoresblog, @mindurownbussines , @hearts4sid , @simplefools , @ynjimenez

wanna join the taglist? | like this story? read more! | requests open!

[lundenloves]

Dad!Simon reacting to his oldest daughter having a small crush on a boy at school! Overprotective dad!simon having to be scary (ofc not towards his lil family) but in private with Wife!Reader he’s emotional because his little girl is growing up 😭😭 fluff mix with tiny angst

Thx! Love ya Dad Simon series 🖤

dad!simon masterlist | taglist

ANON! This mf would get migraines over the idea of his sweet little baby girl and a boy. I’ve had quite a few asks about this, all along the same lines (crush, boyfriend etc) so just decided to make one of all of them. Unless someone wants something dead specific, shout me!

Everyone grab your binoculars as we observe from a safe distance.

He almost choked on his drink, dropping the glass to the counter with a cringe inducing clink. One that echoed around the now silent kitchen as his eyes caught onto his wife’s. “A what?”

His eldest daughter threw her arms in the air in battle of her mother. “Why would you even say anything to him, oh my god.” She groaned frustratedly, attempting to storm away but cut short when Simon had cleared his throat.

“Why didn’t you tell me.” He leant his palm on the kitchen counter, looking down at the girl who was slowly growing to look like her mother instead of him. “What’s his name?”

“Because you’re like this.” She gestured to him, whining a sigh and turning to her mother. “Tell him, mum. He always gets involved.”

Simon laughed, balling his hand into a fist and habitually hitting down on the counter with his movement. “I’m only asking, love.” His arms then crossed over his chest, feet a length apart from another. “What age is he?”

“See!” She shot a hand toward him, widening her eyes at you. “He can’t help it.”

“Well, I need to know what—“

“Simon.” You held a hand out to silence him, a slight tilt of your head telling him to let go. “Invite him for dinner, darling.” The warmth in your voice made Simon itch from the other side of the counter, a half-hearted glare piercing into you over what you had just asked.

“No.”

“Why?” You knew exactly why.

“Because dad will just fu- interrogate him.” She left the room, walking down the hall as she continued, “Which he doesn’t even get to do. He’s never here anyway!” Her words were spat out and Simon tsked, turning back to you when she had stomped up the stairs.

“He’s her age.” You said quietly.

“You knew?” He whisper-shouted as you took a step toward him.

“Of course I knew.” He humphed when you had wrapped your arms around him, humming into his chest. “That’s what mothers are for.” A long sigh left him at that, pulling back from you and rubbing a hand through his hair and down his face visibly stressed.

“I need a cigarette.”

“It was always going to happen, Simon.” You smiled, following him outside and nudging his shoulder playfully. “Leave her be. What’s the worst that could happen?”

He eyed you through a sideward glance.

“She’s not going to get pregnant.”

“If she’s with a little rat—“

“Stop.”

He lit his cigarette, taking a long inhale before shrugging. “That kid is not stepping one foot into this house.” The smoke escaped his mouth with each word, creating a momentary cloud around him. “Not when i’m here.”

“She’s growing up.”

“Too fast.” Simon shook his head with another long drag, the two of them stood in silence.

Being a father to a teenage girl was a new era of problems. Ones he was yet to even learn about never-mind tackle, and this was apparently one of them. The boyfriend dilemma. He was not immune to the dad feelings, resulting in many a phone call to Johnny who somehow knew everything. The man didn’t even have a family.

“Just invite the kid, see what happens. He’s hardly going to pull out an M9.”

“I’m not having him ‘round.”

“She can go to his then.”

“No she fucking can’t.”

In result, he was invited over. On one condition with his daughter, so was uncle Johnny.

Him and Simon were stood in the kitchen when the scrawny kid walked in. You had convinced your husband that holding his knife wasn’t a great idea, twirling it around his fingers before forcefully sticking it into the chopping board.

“Alright, son.” Johnny slapped a hand onto the kids back, ultimately welcoming him but also shoving him toward Simon.

“Sorry. That’s my uncle.” His daughter would point with her eyes, steering him away from her dad and to the seat furthest away. Many a death-stare had been shot across the table toward her father, all returned of course if it wasn’t for you stomping on Simon’s foot underneath it.

It was a mess, to say the least. Bar Johnny’s flamboyant stories that kept at least a drop of fun.

this was supposed to be a lot shorter but LMAOO you can’t convince me ghost wouldn’t recruit soap in this whole thing. THIS is canon. so many thoughts, such little brain.

simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @freakonfilm @crowbird @misshoneypaper @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @abbugaduu @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog

if you weren’t tagged i couldn’t get your blog!

[aniesvision]

distraction (bff!colby x f!reader)

based on a request! (im sorry it's not exactly how u asked for but i'll do more fics with colby and try to use all your requests, for now i hope u like this one 💕)

warnings: little angst at the beginning, mentions of break-up and cheating (not her or colby), crying, kissing, making out, fingering, oral (f! receiving), handjob, p in v, pet names (baby, pretty girl), kinda rough (?), slight dumbification, spanking but just a lil bit, all fours!, orgasm denial, praising, pleading, backshot.

a/n: hi! I had this in my notes but in portuguese, so I tried to translate it, if the writing is different that's why! i hope you guys enjoy it, and just the usual reminder: english is not my first language!

synopsis: you go through a breakup and decide to drive to your best friend's house to distract yourself, but he surprises you with his choice of distraction.

note: Colby's purple!

🪻🪻🪻

Although I had always loved rainy days, the gray clouds covering the sun and the drops of water soaking the concrete streets, today I couldn't see it in a positive way. Traffic was at a standstill, a thunderstorm was falling on the glass, and the sound of my music was being drowned out by the loud noise of drops contacting the roof and windows of the car.

In any other situation, I would've just parked, turned up the sound and enjoyed the time. But now, I would do anything to stop all this and just get to my destination right away.

The stress of the current situation and the memories of what brought me this far rolled through my mind and all I could do was feel the tears forming and falling on the steering wheel.

It was just a few more damn blocks, just a few more streets, just a little bit more. The crying came as hard and heavy as the rain outside. If there's one thing I've always hated it's feeling weak. To be collapsing in the car, standing in the middle of the street with a storm happening, the feeling of being so close, yet so far from where I wanted to be, was too much.

Not only that, but having just moved out of my, now ex, boyfriend's house after he decided to finally confess that he had been cheating on me for the past few weeks while I had been traveling for work and thinking about how I missed him didn't help at all.

I didn't want to go for so long, I hated being out of the house, out of my comfort zone, and even though I enjoyed my job and learned a lot, maybe I could have avoided it all.

Of course, if he cheated, it wasn't because we were separated for a long time (witch wasn't even the case, it was just two weeks), it was because he was a dick.

But still, I can't help but wonder if things could've gone differently if I had simply refused the trip.

It was only two weeks, which in theory wouldn't be that long. Two weeks, in which I dedicated myself to work and tried to improve my career. Two weeks in which he was always too busy for a facetime, but said he missed me. Two weeks in which I bought gifts for him, in which I texted him whenever it was possible, in which he was fucking another woman in the same bed that I used to spend my nights.

I returned from the trip straight to him, straight to his house, straight into his arms. The hug and touch I wanted to feel so much.

He opened the door and didn't even smile at me. I walked in, asked what was wrong, my heart already felt that something was going to happen, that there was something wrong. I knew, even before he said anything, that we weren't going to stay together after that conversation.

When we sat down and he explained his reason for not wanting to be with me anymore, for making me feel guilty for leaving him alone, apologizing for cheating on me but not seeming to regret it, my heart broke into a thousand little pieces.

I didn't say a word, I just handed him the gift I bought him during the trip, knowing he'd like it, and walked out the door. I hadn't cried until then, even though I was destroyed from the first moment.

My idea was to go to my best friends' house and try my best to forget about all this. But, traffic happened, and the tears kept coming, and I couldn't even pull myself together enough to drive a few more damn streets. I cried, and cried some more, and even more.

I cried until I had no more tears left, and then I felt so tired that I couldn’t even think straight. I took a deep breath, started the car, and drove the rest of the way to his house. I knocked on the door a few times, and as soon as it opened, I didn’t even wait to figure out who had opened it, I just buried my face in the chest of the person in front of me and clung to their body with all the strength I had left.

The person in front of me gently pushed me back. Colby looked at me with concern, his eyes softening as he take in my state. He pulled me into another hug, allowing me to stay there as long as I needed. After a while, we separated.

He locked the front door and explained that he was home alone, but Sam would probably be back later if I wanted to talk to him too. We sat on the living room couch. Colby hesitated to ask what happened, due to my state. I took a deep breath, removed my sneakers, crossed my legs on the couch, and mindlessly played with my fingers while I told him what happened, without looking at him.

-He cheated on me. — I said, simply and directly, my voice slightly hoarse and still filled with sadness.

Colby's eyes widened in shock, and he quickly stood up, stopping in front of me.

-What?? —His voice carried anger.

He was in disbelief, caught off guard by my confession, but it was clear how furious he was.

I remained silent, unable to repeat the phrase that had already been so difficult to say out loud.

-He’s a damn idiot for cheating on a girl like you. Fuck, I want to punch him so bad right now. —Colby ranted, pacing from one end of the room to the other.

It was hard not to break down right there, but it was even harder to cry in front of someone else. Despite having cried in front of Colby before, I didn’t want to shed tears for someone who didn’t deserve them.

-I don’t want to remember it anymore. Can we talk about something else, please? I just need a distraction. —I said, frustrated.

Colby looked at me, the anger gradually turning into understanding. He took a deep breath to calm himself and nodded, extending a hand to help me up before pulling me into another hug.

-Yes, of course. Whatever you want. —He said, his tone softer now.

He stroked my hair with one hand and my back with the other. We stayed like that for a while, not saying anything, just appreciating the closeness. After a few minutes, he pulled away just enough to look into my eyes, studying me carefully, trying to understand my feelings. It looked like he was examining every detail of my face, maybe to gauge how I was doing, simply out of concern.

Colby gave me a small smile, cupping my cheeks with his hands and leaving a gentle caress there. His gesture made me smile back, and I looked at him as attentively as he looked at me.

Without saying anything or even preparing me for his next move, he pressed his lips on mine in a delicate, quick kiss, pulling away in less than five seconds, afraid of my reaction.

I stared at him, not angry, not irritated, not disappointed, just extremely confused.

-You said you needed a distraction. —He explained, his voice low and hesitant, as if he still wasn’t sure if he should have done that, if it had worsened the situation or possibly helped.

I think about what he said. Colby and I had shared a few kisses before at parties when I was single, and he was too. But, at parties, we were in a more appropriate setting for friends to just kiss spontaneously without needing any justification, purely out of desire or a “fuck it” moment.

And now, despite not being at a party, I was upset, heartbroken, and genuinely needed something to take my mind off things. So, the “fuck it” moment happened, and I leaned in to kiss him again.

What was supposed to be just a quick peck, turned into something more when he decided to deepen the kiss and brush his tongue against mine. It was the first time we kissed for real. It wasn't just a simple touching of lips, but a true tongue battle, with our heads slightly tilted to opposite sides.

His hands moved to my hips, pulling me closer, and I wrap my hands around his neck, playing with his hair. He was a good kisser, the synchrony of our mouths was perfect, and the distraction was working way too well, until he pulled away, with a smug smile on his face.

-Do you feel distracted yet? —He asks, in a sarcastic tone, like he wanted to find a way to provoke me as he always do. I roll my eyes with a small smile on my lips, not even thinking twice before responding.

-I think I'm not distracted enough.

He pulled me into another kiss, even more intense than the last one. Gradually, he took two steps back, sitting down on the couch, with his legs slightly open, his eyes focused on mine.

He pulls me by the hands, making me sit on his lap, each leg of mine on one side of his body.

We went back to kissing, not even giving ourselves time to process what we were doing. It felt so natural, as normal as a routine, it felt comfortable enough that I didn't even wonder if I should be making out with my best friend.

The kiss became deeper, more intense. Colby moves his hands to my ass, pulling me even closer, making me feel his already hard member through his sweatpants. In an automatic action, I move my hips, grinding on him and making him separate the kiss to let out a loud sigh.

Our gazes met once again, his pupils were dilated, his eyes looked different, the tension in the air was almost palpable.

He squeezes my ass, making me gasp, and a smile appears on his lips. I didn't know when Sam was going to come back home, I only knew that this was in fact happening when I felt my shirt being pulled off my body and thrown on the floor.

Fortunately for me I wore a nice bra today, which matched my panties. My idea was that someone else would see it, but it didn't happen as I expected.

I didn't know how to feel when my thoughts went to how slutty I was to let someone else see me that way so quickly after my break up, but considering that I trust Colby with my life, and it was visible how fascinated he was, I couldn't case less.

His eyes scan my body, his fingers lightly moving at my sides, almost shyly, feeling my skin. But he wasn't shy, it was obvious from the way he was basically eye fucking me.

- I really want to do this, but I don't want you to feel like I'm taking advantage of the situation to get in your pants. —He says. I smile, grateful that even though we were making out, he still thinks of me with respect.

I take one of my hands to his chin, lifting it with two fingers.

- I trust you. —My voice is firm, although it contains a certain sweetness.

He nods, getting the message, and kisses me again. In one quick motion, he takes off his own shirt, tossing it close to mine on the floor, wasting no time in exploring my exposed skin with his fingertips.

His lips trace kisses from my mouth to my neck, where he leaves some hickeys. My eyes remain closed, feeling every touch my best friend provided.

Without thinking too much, I run my fingers through his skin too, feeling every detail. Even though I've seen him shirtless before, this was different, it was another context and another occasion.

I let my fingers slide down to the waistband of his sweatpants, but before I could pull it down, he switches our positions, laying me down on the couch and doing what I planned to do, taking off his sweatpants and tossing it aside.

He does the same with mine, his eyes looking me up and down, his lips finding mine to another kiss.

Our glued bodies, the friction between our skins and the last pieces of clothing are reasons enough for us to understand that we were crossing a line. Even so, neither of us took the time to stop and ask if we were sure, it was obvious from how unable we were to stop. From the fact that I was already hot, my panties soaked and how hard he was.

There was no room for questioning.

Slowly, Colby's hands find the clasp of my bra, gently taking it off. He stares at my boobs for a few seconds, his mouth agape like he was seeing the best work of art of all times in front of him.

-So beautiful. —He mumbles, before bringing his lips to my nipples and leaving wet kisses there.

He squeezes my other boob with his free hand, making me gasp, which gave him even more confidence to continue.

He gave the same attention to the other nipple, gradually moving his kisses to my belly, stopping just before my panties, looking up and smiling before letting his fingers curl around the elastic.

Even though I didn't say a word to stop him, his eyes asked for my permission, and I answered him only with a quick nod.

He took off the last piece of clothing that covered my body, my skin completely exposed to the eyes of my best friend. A wave of nervousness hits me, making me somewhat anxious about the situation I got on.

Colby leaves light kisses on the inside of my thighs, getting closer and closer to where I wanted, taking his time to tease me. When finally his lips make contact with my sensitive area, his tongue tracing a line from my entrance to my clit, a small moan of pleasure escapes my mouth.

-Mhm, Colby, please... -I whine.

It only served to boost his ego, his tongue moving faster and more precise, my hips moving involuntarily against his mouth, his hands firm on my thighs as he kept his head in between my legs, making me completely forget how strange and maybe even wrong it was that I was so easily surrendering to another person.

-Colby... - His name comes out low, in a small plea for him not to stop, one of my hands intertwining in his hair and pulling him closer, my back arching on the couch.

Even though I can't see, I feel a smile forming on his lips, one of his hands sliding down my thigh. He slides a finger under his chin, pushing in and moving it at the same speed as his tongue.

A few moans come naturally from my lips, my hand holding his hair tighter, my head being thrown back and my eyes closing in pleasure. It was almost impossible not to give in, all the anxiety I felt earlier going away with the knot that formed in my stomach.

-Colby, fuck, I'm... -I try to warn him, his voice interrupting me.

-Cum on my fingers, baby.

A feeling of tension followed by relaxation takes over my body and little by little he withdraws his finger and his tongue from me, looking at me intently.

My only reaction was to hold his face and pull him in for a kiss, feeling my own taste. My hands move until I managed to get the last piece of clothing off his body, leaving us equally naked. I use one of my hands to feel him, his veins pulsing in my fingers, the tip hot and red. The sigh coming out of his lips as he feels my hand working on his member, not letting me continue until I'm done as he uses one of his hands to hold both of mine above my head, his other free hand lining up his member at my entrance and thrusting it all at once.

I bite my lips, trying not to scream when I feel the burning sensation and light pain before I got used to his size, a shaky moan leaving my throat. Colby continues to hold my hands, the other now at my waist, his face buried on the curve of my neck.

-Harder... -I plead, his head tilting so he could see me, a smirk on his lips.

-Yeah? Want me to be rough with you? Fuck you dumb? -His thrusts were faster and harder now, with each thrust he'd get balls deep into me, hitting all the right places.

-Please, please, fuck, Colby. -I cry out as he lets out a cocky laugh.

I didn't even tried to keep my moans low and quiet, they already came out loud and frequent, some curses and pleading being constant acts at this point.

The phrases I never thought I would hear coming from him, and from me to him, were the touches of reality that showed me that it was real, it was happening, I was enjoying it, and that, for some reason, my best friend was making me feel more pleasure than my ex made me feel in all the months we were together.

My fingernails had left marks on his back, but he didn't seem to care.

-Turn around. -He groans, pulling out and turning my body so I was in all fours.

I didn't even had a chance to speak before he was burying his dick inside of me once more, the new position making me feel him even deeper than before. Tears were already starting to form on my eyes.

He grabs my hair, keeping me up, leaning to whisper in my ears.

-Such a good girl for me, letting me fuck you like this.

I whine at his words, my legs shaking and another orgasm building up quickly in my stomach.

-Gonna cum for me again, pretty girl? —He asks, leaning down to kiss my shoulder.

I couldn't even speak at this point, so all I do is hum in affirmation, moans getting louder and louder.

-Hold it. —His demand was low and firm, and my eyes widen in surprise.

-C-Colby, fuck, can't, please, I need it so bad, please, please. —I look over my shoulder, catching his smirk before he pushed my head down onto the cushion and slapped my ass harshly.

-Cum with me, baby.

He slaps my ass one last time and my orgasm snaps, making me release all over his dick with a loud moan of his name. I feel him pulling away and shooting his load on my back, making me whine.

×××

We were already both lying down, next to each other, recovering the air and energy we had expended in the last few minutes, in silence, which was only broken by my laughter.

-I can't believe we did that.

He laughs along with me, shaking his head in denial and sitting up. Colby picked up all of our clothes on the floor, and handed me mine carefully, helping me up next.

-Wanna take a shower? —He asks, with caution in his voice like he wanted to proceed carefully from now on.

I nod my head, and he helped all the way through. The affection he showed was genuine, and I appreciated that very much, especially now.

After we are properly cleaned and in comfortable clothes, we lie down on his bed and he pulls me closer. I put an arm and a leg around his body, getting comfortable, and he wraps his arm around me, hugging me back. I rest my head on his shoulder, feeling his hand playing with my hair.

We stayed like this, no need to talk about what happened, just enjoying each other's company, until Sam arrived. I had to say, once again, the story of my breakup, but I didn't feel so sad to tell it anymore. Not while Colby held my hand and listened to everything intently, giving me the assurance that he would be there whenever I needed him.

a/n: I'm not sure how to feel about this one 😭

[greycaelum]

Hi ! It's me again, I just wanted to add that I think you're absolutely amazing. Your writing is perfect, and out of all the stories I've read about Satoru, I feel like you have the best interpretation of him, and you do a great job of conveying that in your writing. That's why I wanted to thank you for taking us on a journey and allowing us to escape into a world with Satoru!

I also wanted to make a small request, but of course you can ignore this part if you don't feel like it! The Kaleidoscope series is by far my favorite, and I wanted to see Satoru's wife be a little jealous...he's such a simp for her, and only has eyes for her, so she never has to worry about anything, and I love that, but why not have a little turn of events with lots of fluff.

Thank you!

- Machi ⭐️

Kaleidoscope Series—Clouds and Mochi Chapters: { Territorial }

—Gojo Satoru X Wife Reader

𑁍 Genre: fluff, a lil' wifezilla moment with y/n

𑁍 WC/CW/TW: (1.1k)— champagne moments, homewrecker alert, PDA *in capital letters

𑁍 A/N: midterms put the nail to my coffin, but here's a glass of bubbly to that~🥂

Your husband without question is a fine-looking man. Too fine sometimes. But you could never count how many times girls bat lashes in his direction or even try to snag your man away with their sultry clothes almost showing their souls to him.

Your reaction?

Well, normal.

If you were a jealous woman having Satoru as your man is a big no, no. He catches too much attention for his own good. Both by males at work and girls at the sides.

But it never roused an extensive feeling of jealousy or envy in your side. Albeit after years of being with him that is. Others may call it arrogance or simply the steeled assurance between the two of you... But you've never been put in a critical position where you have the urgency of stating your claim over Satoru. They could kneel and lay down his feet but only you can touch your man.

You sip the champagne served for you at tonight's gala. It's an annual social gathering held by the prime minister for the Jujutsu clans. And the Gojo Clan being at the top of the Three Great Families of the Jujutsu society, you must attend for the formalities or whatnots.

What a bore...

Satoru's attitude must have rubbed on you for finding the opulent hall, with glitters and dazzle to be such a stifling event. Your eyes roamed around and found nothing worth noting except for the chocolate fountain Saika would've gone crazy about if she was here.

On the other hand, Satoru is crowded by both men and women. His mere height makes it hard not to spot him in the room. Not to add the newly tailored montsuki you had for him makes him eye-catching.

You had to ask him to let you sit after standing and greeting other attendees for so long. Now you're here sitting on the corner, catching your poise while passing boredom with your glass of bubbly.

Satoru is holding a glass of his extra extra sweet non-alcohol mocktail. Judging by the frequent sarcasm in his words and scrunched of his nose he will come to you and ask to go home before half an hour from now.

That was what you supposed until a younger lady came forward and started talking directly to Satoru ignoring the people around her as she laughed obnoxiously for your liking.

Call it a woman's instinct when you easily narrow to the side of your eyes as she tries to bend a little lower exposing a bit of her cleavage. Satoru didn't react much and continued talking anyway.

You don't know the girl's family background but from her flashy appearance, diamonds sparkling on her, you could surmise that she came from an influential family enough to be personally invited by the prime minister. She's too... gaudy.

It was only when she tried to offer another glass of champagne to Satoru by grabbing onto his arms and pushing the flute towards Satoru that your brow raised. She wasn't able to touch him because of Satoru's Infinity but it still counts as something uncomfortable for a lady to do with a married man.

People never really learned... It's funny seeing them try so hard, but there should be a limit to it.

Satoru's temple creased as well. But he wasn't able to do anything more when a hand grabbed the flute of the champagne being shoved toward him and a familiar sweet jasmine scent filled his nostrils. The sound of your zori heels against the marble floor broke the awkward atmosphere.

You took the flute from the surprised and confused girl and leisurely sipped the liquor before turning to whisper something to Satoru's ear but your eyes never left the girl. His Infinity dissolved the second you held on to his elbow.

"Hey Baby," Satoru hummed with a bright smile on his lips.

"She's. Annoying. Me." You punctuated the word before baring your teeth and sinking them in his enticing earlobe you only let go when you heard a subtle needy whine from your husband. An arm immediately wrapped on the back of your waist to steady you. Satoru mumbled an incoherent phrase as you hummed back in reply.

The small group was stunned and at the same time flushed at the sudden move from your side. You simply smiled and surveyed your eyes on the people, your eyes took their time to watch the young lady with a scowl on her face.

"My husband is non-alcoholic, I will take this drink for him." You downed the flute of bubbles in one go before giving the passing server the empty glass and bending a little to whisper in the young lady's ear.

There's a glint in your eyes that made everyone look away and slowly withdraw to scatter around the hall.

"There's a thin line between brave and stupid." You stood back straight and softly smiled. "Which one are you, little girl?"

She better thank whatever devil possessed you to drink a lot tonight that you're feeling a little too tipsy to argue. An arm snaked at the back of your waist whilst a hand landed on your hips to steady you.

Like a pup with its tail tucked between her legs, she turned her heel, flushed cheeks, and hunched shoulders as she walked to the other side of the banquet.

You rolled your eyes and looked for the nearest seat but a firm grip on your hips reminded you of the towering man holding you upright.

"Loved your little show~" Satoru chuckled as he tilted your dazed face higher so you could stare into his enthralling blue orbs. "My pretty, pretty Baby, so territorial over me, huh?"

You weren't able to answer back as he took your lips for a quick and sweet kiss, in the midst of the crowd, you both stood there. Him, with a victorious and satisfied smirk, and you, tipsy and in a stupor of the outward display of affection.

The crowd turned away, some gasped, some looked scandalized, and some were grinning ear to ear. Satoru and his penchant for lack of decorum is shining so brightly.

You're not teens anymore, you're both married for more or less 10 years, but damn this sweet man for never failing in drawing you in his touch. You gripped his haori. What's worse is you cannot bring your lips to protest.

Satoru sensed this and finally guided you away from the crowd, only after he kissed your temples one more time.

"My Mrs. Gojo." Satoru grinned.

Maybe you never needed to do this little stunt but for some reason this small pettiness makes your heart beat like a teenager head over heels for Satoru... What's more, is that—

That ought to teach them where he belongs.

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld @loml-riri @pelicanpizza @emichou-chan

[ninyard]

I would absolutely love to see something about Betsy and Andrew post Easthaven!

a lil snippet of bee and andrews first session after easthaven that i dont want to get long as hell but will probably end up that way anyway??? (tw drake/thanksgiving/easthaven you know the drill)

-

It was a Wednesday, as it had been a thousand times before, and at ten to the hour Betsy thought about her first session with Andrew.

She thought about his humourless laugh, and how he'd dramatically left the room less than twenty minutes into the session. She remembered how he smelled like stale tobacco and smoke, how he smiled at her, and pushed her limits.

Betsy thought about the second time she met Andrew, the third time, the fourth time. How he'd slowly started to crack himself open and let her in, how he'd allowed himself to trust again.

Betsy thought about their last session before the holidays.

Talking about his family had always been a sore spot for Andrew, uncharted territory most of the time, with far too many boundaries and ‘do-not-talk-about’s to be worth exploring further. They had dipped their toes in on a handful of occasions, tense discussions more often than not shut down as soon as Andrew felt the conversation becoming too close.

They’d made progress, that being said - they’d spent that last session before the holidays speaking about one of the last times Andrew had seen his cousin’s family in person. How interested he was in seeing how their dinner would pan out, about how he couldn’t wait to see the look on Neil’s face when he realised what he’d gotten them into.

(Betsy would not forget Neil’s face for quite some time; stoic, unbothered, with blood on his clothes and no emotions other than Andrew, Andrew, Andrew.)

At five minutes to the hour, Andrew swung open the door with a room-shaking bang. Betsy waited for him to sit down, but he stood there for a moment too long, watching her, and only when Betsy fixed her glasses did she see why.

Betsy had never met this Andrew before.

His eyes did not have much behind them, and it startled her to read his emotionless expression. This didn’t even look like him - it looked more like Aaron, the brother who did not speak, who did not sport the same medicated smile that Andrew had for over a year. It didn't take long for her to realise it was the absence of that medicated smile that made him look so wrong; it was as natural on Andrew's face as the clouds were in the sky. Him stepping into her office without it was as if he'd stepped through the door with a new hair colour, or piercing, or a bizarrely colourful outfit he'd never worn before.

“Andrew,” Betsy smiled. At her voice, he shut the door to her office behind him, and made his way over to the couch at the back end of the room. “We’re overdue a few formalities - happy New Year, for a start.”

He didn’t respond while she made their usual cocoas, and so she filled the silence with meaningless chatter, things that she knew he didn’t care about, but were words nonetheless. She got a better look at him as she placed his mug down, and caught his eyes, glued to her, waiting, watching. Perhaps the light was playing tricks on her, but he had subtle yellow marks on the skin of his face where bruises had faded to almost nothing.

“I don’t think it’s what you want to hear but I’ll ask it anyway,” Betsy checked her seat was clear before sitting down. “How are you feeling? It’s really great to see you.”

It was impossible to tell if the pause that followed was Andrew’s hesitation or reluctance. Was he not speaking because he had nothing to say, or because he didn’t know what to say at all? It was not Betsy’s place to fill that silence, either. If any session were important to hand him the reigns, this was it. He had to do this himself.

It was ten minutes, or an hour later before he spoke. “They shouldn’t have called you.”

“When?” Betsy asked after a pause. When he didn’t answer, she continued cautiously, “In Columbia?”

His lack of a response was response enough. His dead stare, his tired eyes emphasised by un-creased cheeks, his smile nothing more than a hard line across his lips.

“They had no choice,” she said, calm and measured. “You know they had to. You know why they had to."

"They shouldn't have."

Betsy had spent over a year trying to understand Andrew, to figure out whether his smile was genuine or chemically manufactured, trying to figure out what he meant when he spoke in riddles. They'd reached a point of understanding, a point in their therapeutic relationship where she could read him well enough to know what he needed her to say. This felt like square one again. This felt like trying to read a completely new patient.

"Why?" Betsy asked, and she tilted her head ever so gently when he looked her way. "What would you have preferred them to do?"

Andrew paused, and was slow to look away before he spoke.

"I don't know."

It was quiet, and there was something else in the room, something in his voice. Something that told Betsy he meant it. He didn't know. He didn't know what had really happened to him, he didn't know who he was anymore, he didn't know why he didn't want them to call the only person who truly understood, because all of it was far too real. Betsy being there only made it official.

"Talk to me," She said, careful not to change her tone, careful to avoid falling back into the typical therapist mode that Andrew had always despised. "Tell me what you're thinking."

Andrew stared at the wall for a moment before finally moving himself into a more comfortable position, taking off his shoes slower than he usually would, tucking them up beneath him on the couch. He shut his eyes for just a second, and then turned his gaze on Betsy.

"Why did you do it?" He asked, and Betsy felt her stomach bottom out. "Why Easthaven?"

"We agreed on it." She said slowly, trying to hide the defensiveness in her voice, trying to hide the fear that an unmedicated Andrew had started to regret his decision to come off them. "I told you why-"

"That's not what I'm asking." He interrupted with a gentle shake of his head.

When they'd spoken about it, it'd been a messy scrapbook page of pasted reasonings and a scribbled out pros and cons list. There were several different truths as to why Betsy pushed for it, a truth that had been hard for others to understand, but a truth that Neil seemed to understand the best.

"Tell me why." She offered. "Why is that something you want me to answer, when you already know?"

"Because I need to hear it without all the noise."

Easthaven had always been the plan - it was difficult to concisely explain the choice as to pull forward Andrew's timeline of events, but it was something Betsy had had to explain over and over again. To her superiors, to the boards in Easthaven, the courts and parole officers that didn't understand it at all. It had been almost hardest to explain it to Andrew himself, bruised and bloody after a night of retraumatisation and a concussion that left him barely able to focus, who's only coping mechanism was to make jokes to cover the fear that he hadn't even been allowed to feel.

Betsy took a deep breath and took off her glasses before saying, "Do you remember laughing?"

Andrew looked away as quickly as the words had left her mouth. She couldn't read his face well enough to tell if he was remembering, or if he couldn't remember at all. It was a silly question though, she thought, knowing how crystal clear Andrew's memory had always been, but perhaps she wondered whether between the haze of withdrawals and events of that night had led his reaction to become somehow buried amongst it all.

Andrew had kept his past a secret for so long, even to her, that he'd nearly given it his own statute of limitations in a way - nothing can be done about it now. Betsy had promised not to pursue any legal action, perhaps against the protocols she was required to follow, for the sake of his honesty way back in the beginning. For the sake of his openness, Betsy was willing to do anything. Andrew had allowed enough time and distance to pass before he handed over even the tiniest of details about the abuse he'd faced as a child. Enough time had passed that he felt as though they were nothing more than stories. Drake would never be in his life again, whether it be for justice or for some sort of closure, so, to him it felt safe to talk about. Any time he'd found his way into a conversation, the son of the mother that could've been, it was obvious how much it bothered Andrew to talk about it; the way his eyes glazed over recounting the details, the way even the mention of his name stilled him as if he were a mannequin on display. But Drake alone was far enough away from the Andrew that sat in her office months beforehand, and he felt like it was okay to divulge the truth.

But against all odds, Drake had come back.

He'd found Andrew, he'd put his hands on him, an adult now, more capable of fighting back, but still in Andrew's eyes he'd won again. It had been funny to him, the night of, that after so many years he'd finally, naively, stupidly allowed himself to feel safe. He had stopped looking over his shoulder each and every night before he got into bed. He had spoken Drake's name freely in a therapeutic setting without fear of repercussion. Yet he had looked him in the eyes again. Yet he'd felt like that child all over again, and years and years of progress were destroyed in an instant.

And Andrew laughed.

A terrible sound, a joke in the face of shock and trauma, a flick of his wrist as if the bruises that circled it were not enough to tell him that this was not to be brushed away. Betsy remembered sitting across from him that night as if it had been only the night before. She remembered the awful sound of his hoarse laugh as well as she remembered the painfully long drive from her sisters home to Columbia. She remembered it almost as well as the foggy conversation she'd had with Abby over the phone.

She looked across that room at him now, his demeanor that of a stranger, and sighed.

Why had she done it?

For him. Anything else was irrelevant - the season, the courts and their mandated recovery timeline, the opinions of anyone who thought they understood. All of it had been for him.

To keep him alive.

To keep him safe.

"I'll tell you," Betsy lifted up the cocoa she'd sat on the table between them, to rest her lips on the warm ceramic. Andrew watched her as she spoke, and she watched his chest rise and fall after a purposeful deep breath. "But Andrew, I need you to let me finish."

[cera-writes]

Omg, I love your blog! 👁️👁️✨ I really love how you write for X-MEN characters. Today, I’m requesting a song fic for either Remy or Kurt. I think they would both fit Too Sweet (By Hozier). I’ve been obsessed with this song ever since it came out. Thank you! ✨

A/N: THANK YOU <333 I too, am obsessed with this song lol Pairing: Gambit x F!Reader Tags: songfic, Hozier, fluff, mutual pining

Too Sweet - A Hozier Song-Fic

The insistent chirping of birds filtered through the blinds, a jarring intrusion into Remy LeBeau's slumber. Ten o'clock. Ten o'clock before Remy would ever say a word and none earlier. Unlike him, you were a symphony of pre-dawn energy. Your voice, a melodic counterpoint to the morning symphony, cut through his haze.

"Remy! Rise and shine, sleepyhead! I've already been out on my mile run this morning before the sun rose."

He peeked from beneath the covers, your silhouette bathed in the golden morning light. Even in your active wear, you possessed an ethereal quality. It couldn't be said I'm an early bird, Remy thought, a wry smile playing on his lips. You were the quintessential early riser, a stark contrast to his nocturnal rhythm.

"Don' you jus' wanna wake up, dark as a lake, cher? Smellin' like a bonfire, lost in a haze?" he mumbled, the words tumbling out unbidden. You paused mid-stretch, concern clouding your bright eyes.

"Did you sleep well?" Your worry was a balm to his soul, a secret he wouldn't readily admit. You cared about him, the man who thrived in the shadows, a stark contrast to your rose colored glasses. You were too sweet for him, a melody in his whiskey-soaked symphony of existence.

"Peachy, cher," he lied with a lazy drawl, forcing himself upright. You were right. The allure of being the thief in the night seemed to pale in comparison to experiencing a sunrise with you. He joined you on the cool floor, his movements stiff compared to your effortless grace.

"You know you don't gotta pretend," he propped up softly, voice laced with amusement. A heat crawled up your neck. He saw through you, your carefully constructed facade. Perhaps, it was this very quality that drew you to him like a moth to a flame.

As the day unfolded, the contrast between you became even more apparent. Your afternoon was spent enveloped in the warm aroma of chocolate and sugar, your hands weaving magic with the ingredients. Remy, however, sharpened his fighting skills with his staff, the rhythmic clang a stark counterpoint to your gentle symphony.

You offered him a hot cup of joe, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "I remembered you liked your coffee black. Oh, and I just made cookies. Help yourself to a few."

He chuckled, taking a tentative bite. The sweetness exploded on his tongue, a stark contrast to the life he led. "You're too sweet for de likes of Gambit, cher," he teased, a pull in his chest that wasn't from the charged cards strapped to his thigh.

"What does that make you then?" you countered, a playful comeback escaping your lips. But beneath the surface, Remy saw a flicker – a spark of attraction mirrored in his own gaze.

Later that night, when the moon replaced the sun, casting familiar, cool shadows, he found you on the balcony, gazing at the starlit canvas above. This was his domain, the time he craved.

"Couldn't sleep, cher?" he drawled, leaning against the railing, whiskey in hand as he took a sip from the glass.

You shook your head, a smile playing on your lips. "Just thinking."

He joined you, a comfortable silence settling between them. "Maybe," he started, feeling uncharacteristically hesitant, "maybe we don' have to pretend or play dis lil' game anymore. Maybe we can share de sky for a while."

You turned to him, your eyes twinkling like distant stars. "Maybe we can, Remy."

He leaned closer, the scent of tobacco mingling with the cool night air. In that twilight space between light and dark, he found himself lost in the sweetness of your kiss, a perfect counterpoint to his world of shadows.

[tainted-liquor]

⟡'Big Ass Attitude ☆ [21.10.23] - ft. Earth42 Miles G. Morales

☆彡 Ingredients: sugar, kisses, n a lil bit of smiles!

"Mamita, date prisa! Vamos a llegar tarde!" Miles called from downstairs, struggling to make his tie look normal. You groaned, adding the finishing touches to your makeup and gently gracing the shimmery silver brush across your nose and cupid bow. "Uh, yeah, Miles! I can't beat my face any faster," you groaned, throwing your brush back into its drawer with a little more force than you'd like to admit. "Please don't start, lil' girl," Miles replied, his low and slightly irritated voice filling your ears as he made his way up the steps and into your room. He leaned against the door frame as he looked you up and down, analyzing your beautiful red dress before turning his attention to his white collar.

"Oh sure, I won't start! Miles, get the fuck out of my room," You huffed, raising yourself from your ivory desk chair and making your way over to Miles. He gave you a sharp glare, eying you up and down with his mismatched emerald green and deep hazel eyes. "What did I just say?" he warned, rolling his eyes ever so slightly before stepping aside, giving you full access to the black-rimmed mirror on your bedroom door. "Mhm, whatever you say Gonzalo!" you muttered, nodding your head with faux compliance as you smoothed out the smooth and shiny fabric of your red dress. "Where'd you say we were going again love?" You asked, doing a half-turn in the mirror to see what your dress looked like from all angles.

Miles chuckled lowly at your usual snide remarks. It's not that he didn’t care, you just always wanted the last word and he thought it was funny. The way you’d stop him mid-sentence, pressing an unwavering finger to your lips as an indication for him to stop talking. He never got bored of the way you’d grab whatever it was you wanted, eagerly gesturing to whatever the new item of interest was before asking, no, telling him that you were gonna get this one. IT worked out perfectly, with Miles being fine with virtually anything while you dragged him along with you for every bumpy ride you had in store.

The red glittery material twinkled under your room's industrial white lighting, casting soft red highlights on the warm white of your bedroom walls. You fluffed out your curls, leaning on one leg as you gave yourself a final look through the reflective glass. While waiting for Miles to answer, you eyed him through the mirror, watching as his eyes became transfixed on your dress. He watched as the shimmery fabric found purchase on every ounce of skin it could find, highlighting every beautiful imperfection in its shiny path. Dear god, he won.

"Well damn, you wanna borrow it next?" you chuckled, turning around to face him before grabbing your bag from off your vanity desk. He cleared his throat, snapping his eyes shut before letting out a half-amused sigh. "I got tickets to this fancy-ass theater from my coach...something about MVP," he shrugged, holding your upper waist like the most precious gem in the world. To Miles, you were nothing short of something carved and molded from angels; their gentle and heavenly hands spent years perfecting their craft to give birth to the most gorgeous model to ever walk the clouds above. You were too beautiful to walk the heavens, so here you breathe, blessing the world with your beauty.

"You ready to go? We got like 35 minutes, 'n I still wanna watch out for traffic” He reminded, putting away most of the makeup you left open on top of your maple oak vanity. "Yeah, c’mon,” you nodded, quickly shoving your perfume, lipgloss, house keys, and phone into your small handbag. You gasped when you reached the car, earning a soft and concerned glare from your boyfriend. His beautiful face glowed under the soft glare of the moonlight and New York neons, properly illuminating the depth in each of his facial features. “¿Qué pasa, qué necesitas?” He queried, instantly turning around to see what was wrong. 

You looked up at him, deep black irises shining and glittering under the ghostly hue of ‘spotlight’, placing your delicate hands on either side of Miles’s shoulders. “I left my bracelet in the house…can you get it for me pleaseee~?” You whined, leaving a soft trail of delicate kisses along the side of his jaw and right next to his lips, barely ghosting his now-prominent dimple as a love struck smile creeped up on his face. He nodded drunkenly, eyes filled with nothing but adoration as he ran back in the cozy apartment to look for your glimmering rose-gold bracelet. He made quick work of tearing up the entire house, not stopping until he came across the gorgeous piece of jewelry then darting back out the door. Everyone else may know Miles to be a stoic and quiet young man, but that well-kept façade always seemed to crumble when faced by you.

“Thank you, boo!” You chirped, climbing into the passenger seat of Miles’s all black Tesla, courtesy of his uncle for his 17th birthday. The seats were ice cold, creating a numbing clash against the body heat of your skin as you felt goosebumps grow across every inch of your uncovered skin. This didn’t go unnoticed by Miles, who wasted no time in taking off his suit jacket and draping the soft silk across your shoulders in a heartbeat. “¿Estás bien?” He questioned, quickly starting up his car to jumpstart the heat as he reached to connect his phone to the car radio. You nodded, quickly smacking his hand away as you connected your phone to the speaker system instead.

“I give you my jacket…and you smack my hand?” He chuckled, giving you a small eye roll as he used one hand to guide himself out the crammed parking spot. You nodded, smiling at him brightly as you let the bass of ‘Not My Job’ by Flo fill the empty space of Miles’s car. “You always play like…CD osama or something-“

“DD Osama, love” he sniggered, biting back a louder laugh that threatened to leave his lips. You rolled your eyes, gently smacking the nape of his neck as he giggled louder. “Miles shut up you know what I meant” you scoffed, pretending to be annoyed and leaning against the passenger door, watching the city pass you by as your boyfriend broke into a fit of laughter. “Yes ma’am,” he corrected, using his free hand to hold the back of your seat's headrest, gently patting the plush leather to the rhythm of your playlist as you talked his ear off about your plans for the future. “And then, I wanna go into theatrical arts. We should buy a cute lil house for the two of us when we graduate! I’ll decorate it, and it’ll be soooo fuckin’ cute,” you rambled, scanning Miles’s features every now and again to check that he was really listening, and he was.

He clung to every word like a mother clinging onto her energetic baby; filled with pride and joy as her beautiful baby girl scoped out the world around her and mapped her way through the fog. He nodded along, keeping his eyes on the road but still sparing you attentive glances while you ranted about your sudden surge of baby fever and hopes for your future. It hadn't even occurred to you that the bumpy and traffic-clad ride was now long over, with you and Miles having found a spot in the parking lot over 15 minutes ago. Miles was leant over the cushioned arm rest, one hand supporting his head while his other wrist rested on his arm. “Oh shit, Miles, why didn’t you tell me we were here?” You gasped, quickly grabbing your things as Miles ran to open your car door.

“Sorry. Didn’t wanna interrupt you” He beamed, taking your hand in his as he led you out of the ink-stained vehicle and closing the door behind you. You lead Miles forward to the entrance, almost like you had been to the unfamiliar establishment before while your boyfriend followed closely behind you. He chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder while he mumbled dangerously close to your ear. 

“I’ll let you know next time. I love you”

Taglist !♡

@ashsostrange @chessbox @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoist @milesnanana77 @niaurluv @sp1derw1re @ban-al3x @we-loveebony @kae2kaee @dxrlingcc

[kakashixhatakesxwhore]

hi! could you do the husband headcanons but for sasuke and suigetsu? ty <333

aight lets pop a lil part 2!!! thank you for the ask!!

Husband Headcanons II

for Sasuke and Suigetsu, with additions of Shikamaru, Neji, and Naruto (GN!Reader)

Your fav isn't mentioned? Check out Husband Headcanons 1, or shoot me a request!

Warnings: Crude language, swearing, alcohol mentions, cigarette mentions, lmk if this sucks

Masterlist💿

Sasuke

A very extravagant ceremony, but only populated by a select few people (friends and family)

The reception lasted until the sun started to shine over the horizon, leaving both you and Sasuke too inebriated to comsumate your marriage that night - the two of you hust stumbled home, tripping over each other's feet, and then threw yourselves onto the Queen bed you shared, falling asleep instantly

Your honeymoon would be a nice week spent in the Tea Lands of the Land of Flowers, sampling various blends and discovering a whole new world of aphrodisiacs

He would give you the time of day, every day, even a decade into your union

Every night, unless he absolutely couldn't, Sasuke would be with you, adoring you and teasing you, helping you care for any children the two of you may share

After so much time and so many events, Sasuke still finds you to be the most beautiful person in the world, and strives to prove his love to you in any way he can, whenever he can

Be that a prolonged embrace, or conversations that stretch forever, Sasuke would provide all the company in the world to you

On the few days he had to call his own, he would spend every waking second with you, taking you anywhere your heart desired

Sasuke would shower you in material love as well, ensuring that no matter which corner of your home you turned to, you'd see something from him and be reminded of his eternal promise

Suigetsu

He wanted a massive wedding, and to invite every living creature on the mortal plane - you talked him down, of course, getting him to settle on an open ceremony

A good chunk of people sent their RSVPs back, but you were boggled by how many people indeed turned up - it seemed Suigetsu had friends around the globe, all terribly excited to watch a beautiful ceremony and get totally fucked up at the reception

You and Suigetsu spent most of your reception dancing, with you having to discard your shoes an hour or two deep to properly get into your groove

He carried you home happily, just peaking with vigour, describing the rest of your night in salacious detail

To your joy, he delivered, almost having undershot his own capability

In the day to day, Suigetsu finds that it's easier to just not deligate homely tasks - if it's an issue now, it's your issue, Noticer

That said, he doesn't shirk responsibility by feigning ignorance; Suigetsu is actually very helpful around the house, cleaning up the mess before he left any room

Every few months, he'll come home with a huge bouquet of multi-coloured flowers, with one glass flower, hidden in the lively petals

"When the final flower dies, I'll stop loving you."

You have a collection of the glass flowers on your night stand - they greeted you every morning and whispered about love every night, always reinforcing Suigetsu's commitment to you

Shikamaru

You and Shikamaru, being from hauty clans, were sick to death of the arrangement-talks

So, you eloped

At the break of dawn, you and Shikamaru began traveling to the Land of Lightning - you made it to the Land of Hotsprings and got a room at an inn in the Hidden Steam, staying the night, before making it to the Hidden Cloud before noon the next day

The two of you signed the paperwork and paid the fees for an International Marriage License then spent the rest of your wedding day walking around the Hidden Cloud

You had to go back to the Hidden Leaf soon enough, and when you did, you presented the marriage license to your father and told him there was nothing to be done about it - he could keep the dowry and expect no bride price

Both clans were unimpressed by the impulsiveness of your actions, but soon you and Shikamaru were allowed to honeymoon in the Land of Frost, the land which you skipped over in your journey to the Cloud

Despite never making any grand gestures, or writing any sonnets about you, Shikamaru lets you know he loves you in a multitude of other ways

He takes you out constantly, always needing to show you off and find things that you both could enjoy - he's always complimenting you, no matter the audience, just so you know that he thinks you're the most divine sight in the world

The most frequent pastime the two of you share is rolling cigarettes - talking for hours and hours, you and Shikamaru fold, load, and roll the white papers into perfect cylinders

You two would roll too many for one smoker to ever keep up, and you had to stop buying metal tins for storage, switching to folding up paper boxes to put the blems in

It became something of a business, selling the pre-rolled cigarettes in paper boxes to the adults of the village

The dimes you two got for your work and tobacco didn't matter to Shikamaru, he was just content, being present with you in the moment

Neji

Sweet darling Neji would have no choice but to invite the entire Hyuga clan, even though he wanted an intimate ceremony

It's okay, it's alright, so long as you're the one coming down the aisle, Neji would be happy

He cries when he sees you, overwhelmed by loving emotions and hope for a future as bright as your smile

Once the wedding guests left, and the ceremony switched to reception, Neji got to cut loose in front of only his closest friends and celebrate the victory of his union with you

He was insatiable at the bar, for only an hour

Then he was pasted to your side, just waiting for the reception to be over, whispering and teasing you about how excited you must be for the after-afterparty

It was projection, but he was right

You two called off the reception early, antsy to get back to your shared home

For the honeymoon, Neji takes you to the Southern border of the Grasslands and Waterlands - to a village that sat at the junction of a waterfall and a luscious field

The village was breathtaking, and Neji took you all over, even behind the waterfall

Neji's constantly taking you different places, allowing you to take the advantage of his position as a DIPLOMAT (yeah, he didn't die, he needed a job) that he wished he could

After every long meeting, he comes back to you, and will always suggest a walk at some point or another, no matter where you are in the world

But your favourite place to walk, and Neji's, was around the Hyuga compound in the Hidden Leaf, and just outside to where you two met - neither of you could turn down a chance to reminisce

Naruto

Huge ceremony, literally everyone who's anyone is there - Naruto organized firecrackers to shoot off during the uniting kiss, which scared the hell out of you but made him laugh, taking you safely into his arms and placing a reassuring kiss to your lips

The reception seemed to be even bigger, not a soul leaving, and a partying spirit vibrant in the air

You and Naruto wowed the crowd with a series of dances, but settled to watch the communal joy together after a little while

Gentlemanly, Naruto whisked you away from the recption, not wanting to disturb the party but not being able to spend another second not ravishing you like the treat you are

Not just wanting to take you to some stupid Land for your honeymoon, Naruto purchased a sail boat to take you out for a month

On the ocean, the two of you quickly got your bearings and grew even closer than before

You traveled from Land to Land, stopping to port every few weeks to pick up some food and put empty crates back into circulation

At one point, your path crossed with that of a pirate ship - Naruto made quick work of them, ensuring your safety without doubt

It's an entire adventure, out where the horizon blends, melding sky and sea together

Whatever you enjoy, Naruto will not only supply, but try to enjoy, himself

If you like to read, he'll get you every book his wallet can stretch for, and then he'll read the books right after you're done with them, readying himself to talk about themes and motifs with you, even if the concepts don't quite click for him

He's always trying for you - trying new foods, new things, new experiences, new looks

Naruto can't believe you're really in love with him, even after being married for so long, so he feels the need to constantly improve for you, to be the man he thinks you deserve

That's his favourite thing about you: the way you incline him to further his abilities, always encouraging him to be the best he can be

Naruto would just be smitten with you, and always would be, and you would always be his personal cheerleader

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give.

> idol!jungkook x f!reader / angst, fluff, suggestive / wc: 8.3k

> warnings: mention of infidelity (no one did u can breathe ily), mention of a classmate slipping their number in oc’s pocket and oc feeling unsafe, mention of puking, mentions & allusion to s/x, alcohol consumption, making out, boob!e fondle, gr*nding kinda? jungkook is hard™️ they’re so in love it’s sickening

> in which masterlist!

playlist! and if/or when - ruel / hate everything - jungkook cover (gsoul) / hits different - taylor swift / statue - lil’ eddie / i wouldn’t ask you - clairo (i had to get in the zone & this is so oc-coded i need u to listen i’m so srs)

next: in which you don’t want to give up jungkook (even when he gave you reasons to, even if they give you reasons to).

note: this was a journey. happened back in june 2019.!! i’m ripping off the bandaid <3 deep sigh writing this made me realize how my babies have come so far. hopefully will follow up with a fluffy fluff lowkey inspired by the underwear live soonest lols i’m excited for it 2 stay tuned 🫂 reblogs & feedback are much appreciated <3

—

you forgot the walls of the apartment building you’re living in are thin. a small portion of the white paint has been chipped off, it looks like a birth mark, you note — except it’s not, and you’re the one who caused the irregularity.

your favorite glass is scattered across the kitchen floor, reduced to shards and to sparkling pieces almost as miniscule as dust. you don’t know what came over you. you don’t know why you threw it at the wall instead of filling it with cold water to only drink three sips like you usually do.

just when you thought you’ve been faring well in holding yourself together today, a fresh wave of sorrow overwhelms you. your knees buckle as you begin weeping, the loudest you’ve been since this nightmare has started. it swallows the knocking sounds at your door, but it’s still not loud enough to quell jungkook’s quivering voice playing like a broken record on loop inside your head.

“we should end this… i think it’s for the best, before we get drained.”

the rain is coming down fiercely and you’re freezing inside his car, parked outside your apartment. after all, his balenciaga windbreaker can only do so much against the blasted airconditioner. your throat is painfully dry, and your hands and face are numb from the piercing cold. but those are the least of your concerns because you feel like your head had just been dunked in ice water. the sting in your eyes are burning warmer as the seconds fly by and the muffled sounds of the torrential raindrops drum frantically in your ears. they’re clouding the car windows, mirroring jungkook’s tear-stained cheeks.

“i’m leaving again in three weeks. and i’m leaving again next year… and i’ll be gone again soon after that for a long time. i-i don’t know when i’m coming home, ___.” he pauses. the heel of palms press against his eyes, as if that could possibly barricade the saltwater leaking from them. “i never know where my life is taking me and you have your own… there’s too much-too much going on. i think that i’m just wasting your time, that this isn’t- it’s not going anywhere.”

“open the door! hello?! ___!”

“what do you want?!” you seeth in annoyance, swinging the door open to reveal your pesky neighbor.

he scratches the top of his head awkwardly at the sight of the mess that you greeted him with, having not bothered to pretend that you weren’t wailing your heart out.

”hey, i know you’re going through something…” his lips remain parted as he struggles to find the correct word, his right eye twitching voluntarily. “soul-crushing? right now. but i heard glass breaking and i was concerned that you, uhm, might’ve hurt yourself.”

the apparent nervousness and sincerity in his actions pull you out from the isolating disassociation you’ve imprisoned yourself in. you feel humiliated, presenting yourself in your most pitiful form infront of a kid two years younger than you. you envy him for having it together after storming out of his parents’ house while you-

“i’m not hurt. it was just an accident.”

you’re shamelessly lying infront of his face because the truth makes you feel too ashamed of yourself.

he only nods, smiling in relief. “i don’t know how to help make you feel better, so i just brought honey like i used to do before.”

you sigh, the familiar jar of honey and its red checkered lid waving at you like an old friend. has it been a year?

“bro, i told you i can’t accept this anymore.”

“you and your boyfriend already broke up. what’s the big deal?”

you have never wanted to smack someone more, the genuine confusion painted on his face feels like an infuriatingly harsh slap to yours.

“he wasn’t threatened by your honey, you dipshit. we just found out my blood sugar was getting a bit high!”

“oh- i’m so-”

you angrily slam the door shut. the silence you’re left with is suffocating, and you find yourself breaking down again.

he jumps in surprise when you open the door again, yelling- “and we’re not broken up!” before ripping away the jar of honey from his sweaty palms. he’s left completely flabbergasted, an inexplicable heaviness weighing on his chest when he hears your sniffling from the other side of the hard-wood.

“does that mean i can deliver again next week? i have too much in my kitchen…”

he doesn’t receive a snarky answer, surprisingly, so he continues talking.

“and f-y-i, your left cheek is bleeding! you might want to check on that!”

—

“you didn’t even give me any signs…”

you inhale a deep, shaky breath in a fragile attempt of keeping your composure. you want to scream, rip apart this thick tension with your bare hands, and force him to admit that this is just some kind of sick joke. you finally see him in person after months and all he has for you is a gift bag filled to the brim with heartbreak. this is too casually cruel, not something you would’ve expected from your jungkook.

“do you really mean that? or is there something else you’re not saying…? look at me.” you plead, weakly tugging at the hem of his long-sleeved shirt. the horrors of long-distance relationship stories claw their way out of your skin, adding fuel to the fire of your deepest fear. “you didn’t cheat on me, right? that can’t be it. we- we always-”

after you ended your last relationship, you cried at the parking lot of your university and continued living your life the next morning as if nothing happened at all. you did it all for yourself, anyway. he was gradually tearing down your confidence and your dignity; and you didn’t want to become a person the future you would despise for not being wiser, stronger.

and here you are at present day: spending the cozy sunday night solving chemistry problems on your desk. you have a blue bandaid plastered on your face and a cheek full of fruit and honey. and you would say you’re fine, but jungkook wasn’t here to sweetly dote on you while treating your wound. he isn’t here to taste the honey from your lips with that coquettish smirk of his. he isn’t laying on your bed, fighting to stay awake because he wants to fall asleep with you as his pillow.

no matter how hard you try to shut out this thought, it keeps knocking on the door. he’s going to be doing these sweet nothings for a different person when he finally reaches a more stable place in his life. you want to kneel on the ground, beg the heavens to meddle with destiny and never let you hear about it.

because that means he will never set foot in your apartment again, and the personal belongings you left in his room will be thrown out to erase the traces you left behind.

so this is how it begins.

the ugliest parts of you are swimming to the surface, tying themselves around your ankles because jungkook took away the ground from beneath your feet after unearthing your soul and… nothing makes sense to you anymore. if you wake up every morning to tend to your garden, and you look outside the window to learn that the sun has stopped burning, what do you have left?

your lips inevitably curve into a frown, but you inhale a sharp breath, patting your eyes dry before they can smudge the black ink on your notepad. and then you dip a strawberry in honey for the third time.

—

“no, baby, no- that’s not it.”

the dread and insecurity weaved into the cracks of your voice fill him with nausea and panic. he captures your frigid hand with haste, firmly holding it to his pounding chest.

“i would never do that to you. just the thought alone fucking disgusts me… you’re the only one. you’ve ruined me for everybody else.”

“then why are you giving up on me? am i becoming a burden?”

jungkook feels painfully numb, mind floating as the buildings outside the window get left behind him as a mere, passing blur.

“yah, jungkook-ah. are you crying?”

a torturous moment of silence passes as he struggles to find his voice. his tongue is tied, and his lost eyes are betraying the nights he spent practicing how to explain himself to you. back then, the reasoning he curated made sense. but faced with the consequences of his actions, the love of his life’s brain running a thousand miles per hour, recording a tale of woe and heartache on his passenger seat — he has never felt this much loathing for himself and his weaknesses.

you release a shaky breath, patting his rosy cheeks dry with your sleeves. you smile at him kindly, and he watches you in sheer disbelief. he can’t fathom the perpetual luck he’s been blessed with that he met, who he believes to be, the purest soul to grace this corrupted world. they’re damp with your tears, so it’s practically useless, but the sweet gesture is a stray beam of sunlight in the midst of the dull gray clouds.

the comforting rubs on his shoulder extracts him from his torturous thoughts, and only then does he feel the wetness on his face.

“you’ve been holding it back for the past week. just cry it out.”

he nods wordlessly, hiding himself in the fleece blanket from his lap. yoongi can feel a lump forming in his throat as he witnesses his youngest brother breaking down, jungkook’s pain also being his pain. as a group who’s been living together for the past decade, no one will be able to empathize with them as well each other. especially during times like this.

“___ hasn’t called?”

jungkook shakes his head wistfully, wiping away the tears that slid down his nose. he is dying to send you a text message, worried sick, and still used to hearing about your day the same way he is used to sleeping on his stomach.

“hyung,” the sound of the word borders on a sob. “it’s over. this is killing me… it’s all my fault.”

“but isn’t that what you wanted?”

“exactly. so why am i crying?” his hands ball into closed fists. “i’m an asshole.”

“enough of that!” yoongi loudly whines out his scolding. ”we all know you had your reason.”

“but, hyung, i fucked up!” he tenses up, blurting out the acknowledgement that’s been haunting him day and night. “she told me the most romantic thing and i felt so… fuck, i’m so angry at myself. i ruined everything. and i’m scared that i’d end up making things worse if i try fixing it.”

“stop beating yourself up. we can’t solve things this way.” yoongi grabs a bottle of water from the cupholder between them, twisting the cap open before handing it to jungkook. “drink first.”

once he starts drinking, he realizes that his throat has been awfully dry and sore. it’s most probably best for him to rest his voice. he can already foresee the concert rehearsal being absolute hell tomorrow. if he can’t sing, he doesn’t know how else he’s supposed to keep himself sane.

“talk to me. what did she say?”

“you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, do you know that?”

and with that revelation, he loses the warmth of your touch, and he comes crashing down like a wingless aircraft.

“i also need time to think about it. that’s only fair, right? that i get to decide, too…?” you swallow thickly, lips parting as if the words are resisting to come out of your mouth.

he looks at you with an emotion you can’t name, a push and pull between longing and trepidation.

if this was a movie, he would brave the rain and somehow perfectly deliver a poetically romantic speech that would sway your heart. if this was a movie, you would take a warm bath together, make out in the bathtub, and make love on your bed. if this was a movie, the day would end with the two of you tangled up, peacefully asleep and rhythmic breathing in sync. but he knows you. apparently not as well as he thought, but to some extent, he knows you. if he pulls you closer in the heat of the moment, you would feel suffocated and defensive and you would push him away; and he would lose you for good. that much he knows. so he lets you leave and he stays in the car— heartbroken, crestfallen, and regretful, because he might’ve just recklessly thrown away the best gift the universe has ever given him.

“i was thinking about how she never would’ve made this much sacrifices and efforts for anyone else and i feel like… i- it’s all going to waste because our future is uncertain. i can’t be committed to her as much as she is committed to me. and, and i felt like the guilt was eating away at me, you know? i wasn’t thinking straight.” jungkook chews on his bottom lip, a last ditch effort to prevent himself from sobbing. “it just… consumed me? like i was drowning… and all i could smell and taste was the saltwater.”

“i see,” yoongi sighs, crossing his legs and intertwining his fingers infront of his stomach as he finds the right words to say. “that’s a normal response. our brain is a very complex friend… but you know, everything i’ve been through as myself and as a part of our team, hmmm, they taught me that there are times when a problem doesn’t necessarily need a solution per se. you just keep going until the fog clears up and then you move past it.”

fuck, jungkook needs a glass of whiskey. or two. or twelve. he listens intently despite seeming like he’s spacing out.

“this won’t last forever and time slips away from us without us even noticing. you should do what you want to do. if we’re going to deprive ourselves of good things, what will we have left after everything is over? money we can’t spend in one lifetime? there’s no happiness in that.”

yoongi frowns, wishing he could do more to alleviate the weight hanging on jungkook’s shoulders.

“you deserve love outside all the noise, too. focus on the present which you can still control and deal with the future when it arrives. if you do otherwise, you’ll just be tormenting yourself… and i know it’s easier said than done but! do you want to hear something i’ve had on my mind lately?”

with a flushed face and swollen eyes, he tilts his head to curiously spy on his hyung.

“what is it?”

“your motivation to work out after our shows is so you can stay awake and spend time with her. that’s why you fall asleep everywhere else. do you know how scary and endearing it is to watch that? is that what you call ‘not being committed enough’?”

yoongi fails to hide his gummy smile, body vibrating with silent laughter as pictures of jungkook falling asleep standing up flash before his eyes.

“seriously, you punk! you scare me! i just pass out and die straight after while you- really, you’re really unbelievable. i envy you. for being able to love with everything you have until they break your heart. i mean it!”

“but i’m the one who broke their heart this time.” jungkook somberly utters in defeat, bottom lip jutting out and chin quivering.

yoongi encouragingly pats his shoulder, shaking his body lightly. ”you can make it up to her. she’ll reach out before we leave. have some more patience.”

jungkook’s eyes turn into slits, suspiciously squinting at the man sitting beside him. “why do you sound so sure?”

“because she loves you. why else?”

—

you automatically pause from eating cup ramyeon when your phone lights up on top of the journals you’ve been reviewing for the past hour.

“ah, shit! shit!”

you abruptly cover your mouth with your hand, exhausted eyes watering because you accidentally bit your tongue after reading the name of the sender of your newest text notification. you take sips of cold water, peering at your phone as you do so. your hands itch to type out a response, but the screen dies and turns black, another of yoongi’s messages in the same pile of unanswered ones from your friends checking up on you tonight. you can’t talk to anyone right now; you need to get shit done.

after eating your dinner at the convenience store, you come home to a plastic of fried chicken hanging on the doorknob of your front door.

Eat lots and stay healthy! I’m feeding Jungkook well too. Don’t worry. — Yoongi

you peel off the blue handwritten note, sticking it on the cover of one of your books. you carefully carry the food using your free hand, and you can feel it radiating on your skin, the heat of a freshly-cooked meal. you were always worried of being a bother when you occasionally ask him how jungkook is doing on tour, but this made your heart significantly lighter. gaining a good friend after losing your lover, perhaps life can show a smidge of mercy when it wants to.

too bad you’ve always been one to be greedy.

—

“ah, seriously. why did you have to break up with ___?”

“we’ve been through this a million times!” jungkook exclaims in exasperation as he fiddles with the controller, bumping his knee with taehyung’s. “focus. you’re supposed to be helping me forget.”

“i don’t remember agreeing to that.” taehyung responds with a shrug, smirking when he picks up a booster and runs past his friend’s character. “you finally found someone who could put up with you and you let them go? i won’t let you forget.”

jungkook scoffs, eyes rolling upwards. “bro, i should be the least of your problems.”

“nuh-uh.” taehyung tuts with a grin, belly aching with laughter when jungkook’s car jumps over his to steal the lead. he didn’t even know that was possible. he plans on using the same trick against him later. “i’m making you my biggest problem so i don’t have to deal with mine.”

“they’re not married yet. you still have a chance, you know?”

“yah!” he gapes at jungkook in shock, entirely forgetting about the game. “take that back!”

“don’t act like you haven’t thought of it!”

“yeah, but i don’t say it out loud. it sounds too wrong! i still have my morals left!” he cries out, stomping his feet on the floor.

jungkook lightly punches his arm, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “i meant you have a chance if they break up. i have morals too! what do you think of me?!”

“oh…” taehyung blinks. “you know who else have probably thought of that too, though?”

“who?” jungkook boredly questions as he scrolls through the game collection, contemplating about which one to play next.

“all the other people waiting in line for ___.”

the realization renders him motionless, stirring up the possessiveness coursing through his veins. for the love of god, he doesn’t want to be petty but that struck a nerve. he wants to storm out of the house and look for you, beg on his knees for you to take him back.

“aish, hyung, you’re driving me crazy! why would you tell me that? are we torturing each other?!”

“are you crying? yah, jungkook-ah.” taehyung watches his hunched figure with a guilty wince, hesitant hands rubbing the expanse of his back. “i’m sorry- i’m sorry… do you want a hug?”

jungkook stays quiet, head hanging low to hide his face crumpling with anguish. the loose but affectionate hug that he gets pulled into prompts him to fall apart, catharsis blossoming in his ribcage and turning his bones into jelly.

he hears obnoxiously loud sniffles, and he abandons taehyung’s shoulder to look at his face. “are you crying, too?”

“stop ruining the moment.” taehyung groans, forcefully pushing down his head again.

namjoon comes out from his bedroom in search for another extension cord, still sipping on the half-empty iced americano he took from the fridge only ten minutes ago. the heartfelt scene on the couch causes him to halt on his tracks. how did they go from playing games to crying together? he silently observes the two members for a moment before deciding to approach them.

“what am i going to do with the two of you?” he grunts, ruffling his hair in frustration. “shall we go out for drinks to disinfect your wounded hearts?”

the mention of alcohol makes them perk up, jungkook’s tearful doe eyes sparkling at the prospect of temporarily erasing the pain that has uncontrollably spread throughout his system. he wants to drink until he forgets that he has hands, until he forgets what it feels like to touch you.

“thanks, monie-hyung. i’ll have my appetizer.”

and the iced americano gets snatched away from namjoon’s unsuspecting hand within the blink of an eye.

—

“this is not a barbecue restaurant.” you stare blankly at the orange neon lights spelling out the name of the night club your friends secretly conspired to bring you to.

“___, loosen up! the fastest way to move on is to find someone else. this is the best place for that.” aera turns around from the passenger seat of the taxi, her red lips painting a thrilled smile. “just forget about jungkook. we all knew this shit was going to happen. i’m surprised you even lasted that long!”

“i don’t know what you’re trying to imply but i don’t appreciate your tone.” you warn her with a sharp, threatening look. “and the ‘someone else’ that i found at a bar before turned out to be biggest fucking jerk i’ve ever met. i’m not doing this again.”

“things might be different this ti-” mi-ran aids in persuading you, but it only adds fuel to the fire.

“oh my god! fuck off!” you yell in irritation, aggressively getting off the car and slamming the door shut on their faces.

you never look back, ignoring the shouts of your name and half-assed apologies. you don’t have the slightest idea about where you’re going — your feet have a mind of their own and they chose to go the opposite way of home. this isn’t how you envisioned your night. you just wanted to listen to the sound of the meat grill and complain about life giving you a taste of true love just to cut your tongue with it until you bled. was that too much to ask?

you’re about ninety percent certain that you just lost two of whom you treated to be your closest friends. you think of ah-young, and you briefly consider crashing at your best friend’s band practice, but you’re too exhausted to travel to the other end of the city.

with eleven seconds left in the timer, you cross the street with swift and long strides alongside a crowd consisting mostly of employees wearing the same navy blue uniform. at last, you’re among the bright and lively restaurants, the inviting smell of good food making your stomach sting with hunger.

it’s only taehyung who recognizes you when you unknowingly pass by, almost choking on his glass of somaek, the combination of soju and beer. with his career on the line, he is confident that he can recognize that balenciaga windbreaker anywhere and anytime. meanwhile, instead of talking about you, the youngest is drunkenly reminiscing about the alleged ghost encounters he had in their old dorms. their leader is tragically left to tend to the grill alone. he deeply regrets not dragging any of the older members with them.

“everyone, i think i just saw __-”

a grimace of cluelessness is plastered on taehyung’s face when jungkook claps once, enthusiastically pointing at him as if he just announced something inspiring and life-changing.

“you’re right, you’re right! that’s it! what i’m kind of trying to say here is…” he pauses, facial muscles relaxing into a gloomy expression. he sniffles and rubs his nose, making it a brighter shade of red. “when we move houses again, i won’t have stories like these to bring with me. the new ghosts will be my memories with ___.”

none of the other two dares to speak after that, the oddly satisfying sound of meat being grilled and the chattering from other tables occupy the uneasy and heavy silence. instead, they begin filling their own shot glasses with pure soju. namjoon is the first one to spill it down his throat, slamming it on the table before dishing out his phone from his pocket. by this time, all of them are already drunk, double vision blurry and speech a little slurred. they gave up on counting the green bottles and cans of beer a long while ago.

“shit, that was a good metaphor. i need to write that down.”

“namjoon-hyung, he’s crying again!”

jungkook’s head slumps on the table with a thud, hot tears escaping down to his temple as he laments. “i miss her so much. why did i have to break up with her the second we got home? why…? am i so impulsive? what do i do if… if she agrees that we- h-how am i supposed to live with myself after that…? i’m never going to love again.”

they shuffle apprehensively on their seats, but still, they tell jungkook what he needs to hear since he won’t remember tonight’s events, anyway.

that’s not going happen. she just needs some more time. i’m sure she’s missing you too. everything will be okay.

but it’s been almost two weeks of radio silence. their flight is in nine days, drawing nearer and nearer as if it’s purposely taunting jungkook. everyone is thinking the same thing, and everyone is afraid to say it out loud.

—

it’s 7am when his work alarm goes off. with a disgruntled noise, a hungover jungkook drowsily drags himself out of bed, eyes still closed as he swings the bedroom door open.

“oing?” he creates a noise of confusion when his arm bumps against an object. he blinks at the brown paper bag hanging on his doorknob, removing one of the handles to peek at its contents.

he buffers for a moment, staring blankly at his belongings safely tucked inside. there’s his black mini bluetooth speaker, tinted lipbalm, wired earphones, bucket hat, facial cleanser, moisturizer, and shampoo. these are everything he left on top of your study desk and in your bathroom. neatly folded on the side is his windbreaker, which he recalls as clear as daylight, how you reveled in its comfort the last time that you were together. the fabric softener you use has replaced his perfume, the cherry scent forming a rain cloud of nostalgia and longing above his head.

if this is a nightmare, he is begging for somebody, anybody, to break into the room and to bring him someplace where hope is not desolate.

his wounded heart, as his namjoon-hyung described, is experiencing an excruciating pain he never even imagined was possible. he now understands, why the broken heart syndrome is a real thing.

he can’t read you. is this your way of ‘reaching out’? have you kicked him out of your house, out of your life? for good?

the dread of losing you forever is gnawing at his insides. nausea almost succeeds in knocking him off his feet. his brain hisses with static. he panics at the disgustingly familiar sensation brewing in his digestive system, sprinting to the bathroom to spill out his guts.

they say that you don’t realize what you have until you lose it. that early morning, jungkook realizes that he’s only a human being after all.

—

“when did i put that there?”

you’re sorting out your dirty laundry after showering when you notice a tissue paper tucked in the front pocket of your denim jeans. you huff out a sigh, ripping it apart into tiny pieces over the trash bin with raging vexation. you will never understand how men thinks that these kind of stupid tricks are supposed to compel you into seeing them anywhere near attractive and desirable in your eyes. if anything, they make you feel unsafe and if your paths cross again, you will run the other way. great. another person in the lecture room to avoid. just fucking great.

at this point, you want to mockingly laugh at your own misery. just when you thought your day couldn’t possibly get worse, it fucking does.

you tuck yourself in bed by midnight, texting a friend about your joint presentation next week, and then rereading your conversation with namjoon from this morning for the nth time. you’ve been hoping it will shine light on the right path to take, because you’re still lost and hurt.

Namjoon:

he’s been devastated since

can’t this be sorted out?

stuff’s just been overwhelming and honestly i’m as anxious as him

i'm not trying to force you into getting back together with him ofc but please talk for closure atleast..

you’re also my friend. i think you need it too..

you scroll a bit further down afterwards, and your heart drops to your stomach when you see the three dots under the contact name ‘my jungkook’. you click on it as it beckons you to, only to allow time to flow like a river with no sea to kiss, idly watching the bubble appear and disappear, appear and disappear. almost everyday, you catch a glimpse of him at the very least, typing a message and never sending it.

the same goes for tonight, it seems.

his silence is torturing you. in the car, in your inbox, in your call history. a person knocks on the door and a part of you foolishly predicts that it’s jungkook not using his copy of the key out of respect.

you succumb to the yearning, heading to your shared media and files that you’ve been actively resisting for the past three weeks… for this exact reason.

you randomly click a video sent by jungkook three months ago.

“i know you’re in class but i’m too excited to show what i got you today!” he beams at the front camera, bunny teeth cutely showing. he picks up the first item from the hotel bed with his free hand. “you already own this book but this one got a different cover, see? it’s hardback? they say it’s a limited edition.”

he eyes it fleetingly, obvious that there is something else he is dying to mention.

“i won’t show it too close. you can look at it when i go home. there’s a little surprise inside.”

he scrunches his nose before teasingly sticking his tongue out.

“and then here we haaave-”

following that, he shows you an adorable fluffy white bunny with red eyes. it occupies more than half the screen, and without a doubt, it is soft and huggable.

“cooky’s new sibling! we found it at a gift shop and hobi-hyung said it looks like me.”

he presses his cheek to the bunny’s. “i accept. we do look alike, but my eyes are so much bigger.”

in the upcoming seconds, the video is muted except for his breathing. he plops down on the bed while ruffling his dark hair, staring at the camera wordlessly, evocative of when you catch him dreamily watching you study while you’re on a videocall.

“i miss you.” he smiles sadly, deep dimples appearing on his cheeks. “don’t forget to text me when you’re on your way home.”

he drops on his back, the firm mattress breaking his fall.

“mmmwah!“ he kisses the camera, and your screen freezes on the final frame.

the silence in the aftermath is defeaning. you tear your glasses off your face, burying your face in the pillows. you arrive at your final decision then and there. you don’t care. you don’t care. you don’t care anymore. you cannot bear to spend more of your days like this. his things that used to live here might be gone, but you look for him everywhere. you look for his car in the parking lot. you look for his hair when you see flowers. you wait for his name to be called in the coffee shop. on your way home, you linger at the playground where you used to usually meet.

because if your relationship with jungkook is truly doomed to fail, you want to watch its foundation collapse on the ground, burnt down to gray and black ashes that disintegrate when you try to grasp them in your hands… with good grace, it’s the only way for you to believe that there’s no more home to come home to.

with a trembling hand, you press the call button and for the very first time, you beg someone to stay.

—

jungkook’s breathing ceases, heartbeat violently racing in his chest. the ‘chimes’ ringtone tickle his ears, his phone vibrating incessantly in his hands. the two features he specifically customized in your contact settings so he will immediately recognize that it’s you who’s calling.

it’s been four days since you dropped off his things. and here he was, laying on his bed and struggling to find the right words to say because he refuses to believe that this is how it ends. the paper bag is still hanging on the doorknob. he hasn’t touched it since the first time. he doesn’t have the courage to do so.

fuck giving you space. he wants drown himself in you and never come up for air. he’s more than willing to suffer your anger or your coldness. he’s prepared to prove himself worthy of a second chance every second of every day. he wants to occupy half of your desk and half of your closet again. he selfishly wishes to be the first and the last person you fall in love with.

but until the very end, you’re the braver one.

“love?” your voice is quiet, barely audible, but it’s there, and he hears the affectionate term of endearment distinctly. “i’m sorry. i tried, i really did, but i couldn’t do it…”

“baby,” he falters breathlessly, half of him in disbelief, convinced that he has officially lost his goddamn mind and delusion is bleeding into reality.

“i tried living without you like you wanted- but i can’t-” you hiccup in between small sobs on the other line. “i love you, jungkook. i can’t live carrying around all this love with me. it’s too heavy…”

exploding and breaking apart, jungkook’s heart is a meteor that has entered the planet’s atmosphere, and he doesn’t know where to begin digging for the fragments so he can piece himself together again.

“we are too young and we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing and i love you too much. you don’t have to protect me… i’ll take my fair share of the responsibility, so just-” he hangs on your every word, and then you pause, your following words eliciting a powerful punch to his gut. “just let me love you and let me learn my lesson the hard way… let’s do that, okay?”

the walls of him room ebbs and flows in like the sea. he rests his forearm over his eyes, his skin gradually dampening with tears. he once promised himself that he would never put you in this position. he should be the one begging for forgiveness, repenting and crawling on his knees. but rather than wasting his time with surfing through another tsunami of self-blame, he reminds himself: i want to be a better man.

“okay, baby. let’s do that, hmm? let’s do that. it’s what i want too.” he coos softly with a hoarse voice. “are you at your apartment?”

you hum in confirmation, sniffling. “come home.”

—

a half-naked jungkook abruptly opens the door to yoongi’s room, wearing gray sweatpants with his left arm awkwardly inserted in one of the black t-shirt’s armhole.

“hyung! can i borrow your car? mine’s getting a check-up.”

yoongi tears his eyes away from the computer, hanging the black headphones on the nape of his neck. he merely shrugs before throwing the car key, and jungkook catches it in one hand with ease.

he sighs in relief, politely bowing his upper body to express his gratitude. “thank you, hyung.”

“what are you doing?!” yoongi half-smiles with fondness, jokingly waving him off. “just go- go. leave!”

—

jungkook nervously stands before your front door, head woozy with anticipation and fear. what if things have changed? what if your relationship never goes back to the way it was?

“oh. you’re back together?”

he whips his head back to find your neighbor arriving home from his part-time job. huh, he just realized that he has never really learned what his name is. the only information he has on him is that his sister owns a bee farm.

“how did you even know?” he asks with knitted eyebrows. “you haven’t been giving out honey again, have you?”

“she only accepted it once.” the stranger puts his arms up in surrender with a roll of his eyes. “and don’t make her cry again, will you? she blasts sad songs late at night.”

and with an unpleasantly forceful shut of the door, jungkook is left alone in the hallway. his jaw clenches as he glares at the next apartment, but he rubs his face to release his frustration before he goes to meet you.

“we need to move in together.” he grumbles to himself as he enters your unit, relocking the door behind him. he removes his sneakers, neatly setting them down beside your pairs of shoes by the doormat.

he pads on the wooden floor with his white toe socks, looking around the dark and quiet living room. a faint orange light is seeping under the gap between the floor and the bedroom door, which he recognizes to be your favorite mode on your multi-colored nightstand lamp. he cautiously cracks the door open, and he is instantly greeted by your curled up figure, peacefully sleeping.

it’s muscle memory when he hangs his backpack on the backrest of your study chair before anything else. he also brought the paper bag you sent, putting it down on the floor.

he squats down infront of you, lightly prying away the phone you’re hugging to your chest and placing the device on the bedside table. the light is shining over your skin, and there are a thousand of photos and videos organized into the most treasured folder in his gallery, but not a single one of them will ever do you justice.

god, he missed you so much. it hasn’t been two years, but the life he had before he met you feels like an extremely distant memory.

he sighs, talking in hopes that he appears in your dreams. “how do you do this? you make it impossible not to love you.”

he unconsciously frowns at the sight of your puffy eyes. never again. never again. never again. he chants inside his head. he plants a kiss on each of your eyelids, taking his time to bask in the feeling of your weight under his lips.

he climbs on the opposite side of the bed, tucking you underneath the blanket before securely holding you from behind with his thigh hanging over yours. the warmth of your body and the scent of your shampoo cures the headache that’s been bothering him the whole day. he drifts off to sleep soon after.

—

the feather-light brushes through the silky locks of his hair pulls him out of his slumber half an hour later. he can make out your silhouette through his half-open eyes, the little-mermaid-like scene feels too vivid for a dream.

“why didn’t you wake me up?” you whine, sulking with a pout.

“i’m sorry.” he answers quietly, sitting up to engulf you in a tight embrace as endless apologies tumble from his tongue. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i gave up. i’m sorry that i hurt you. i’m so sorry… are you angry at me?”

“i’m upset.” you admit after a few beats, not seeing the point in sugarcoating it. “it hurts when i remember you saying that. and i understand you but… but i don’t like that you decided alone for us. if you do that again… then it will be over between us.”

he has an arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand firmly holding the back of your head. it’s a little hard to breathe, but it’s so reassuring to feel that he doesn’t want to let you out of his embrace. because you hated it — hated how it felt like letting you go was so easy.

“i regret everything. i’m sorry.” he whispers, concealing his tears by nuzzling his face on your neck. “and you’re not a burden. that’s not true.”

he knows that you mean your every word, so he lifts up his head to gaze directly into your eyes, showing that he is as sincere and true to his.

“from now on, all i’ll think about is what i can do to make you happy and safe without compromising our relationship… i’ll do better. i’ll love you better. i promise that i’ll be stronger for us. i won’t make the same mistake twice.”

you wish jungkook could be kinder to himself, treat himself with the same gentleness that comes so naturally with you. why is it that humans find loving themselves so laborious? why does being have to come with such a curse?

taking glimpses at the past, you should’ve been reminding him of these affirmations everyday.

“you don’t have to be strong all the time. i’m not asking for that.” you shake your head, voicing out yourself in a tone so soothing and illuminating. “i don’t want to go anywhere far away from you so think of yourself, too. i told you before, it’s okay to hold on to me. i’m also strong.”

jungkook feels so safe at home. he doesn’t remember what he was so worried of anymore.

“and you know what? if you really see it that way, then i’m telling you now. i want to waste my time on you. you can’t stop me.” your threatening eyes widen in conviction, provoking a sheepish smile to tug at the corners of his lips. “i always get what i want.”

“and you want me?” he innocently points at himself.

“love you.”

“i love you.” he replies, nosing at your neck before leaving a chaste kiss on your skin. “so much.”

“then put yourself in my shoes.” you hum, combing his hair with your fingers, lightly tugging to initiate eye-contact. “i want to take care of you just like how you want to take care of me. i think we have something rare and beautiful…” you pause, self-conscious about coming across as too needy now that you’re face-to-face, but an epiphany shatters your apprehension with a bow and an arrow.

this is what he needed to hear from you that day.

“so stay with me.”

jungkook’s vision becomes unfocused. he’s speechless; the only sound in the room is the humming of the airconditioner, but it’s almost as if you can hear the gears of his brain working their hardest. the pain that glossed his enchanting doe eyes has been replaced with a devotion you’ve never seen expressed so passionately in them before.

“all the time i own is yours.” he declares, cupping your face, the pad of his thumb daintily stroking your cheek. “all of it. we can do anything you want to do. let me make it up to you.”

“anything?” your face lights up with joy and mischief, and the butterflies in jungkook’s stomach come alive. he wants to make it his life’s mission to make you smile everyday; and that, he will do. “then i want you to kiss me.”

the sultriness of your enticing voice makes him go haywire. it’s been too damn long. he has forgotten what it feels like to kiss you. he slowly inches closer, his lips brushing against your lips before he pulls you in deeper, a fervent display of his yearning and apologies. he swallows the needy moan that escapes you as he slowly lays you down on the mattress, stripping off his shirt and mindlessly tossing it somewhere when you impatiently tug at it with another whimper. you cage his face in your hands, bringing back his lips on yours as if he’s the air that you breathe.

he wants to grieve for all the wasted time because everyday, he craved for this. to be honest, he forgets his name when he’s kissing you. outside, the crowds scream his name for being the best at what he does best, and he happily lives for the euphoria of it all. but in this room, there is only you and him. you communicate using the unspoken language of love with your lips. you bare the soft animal in yourselves with your teeth sinking in the other’s skin. you allow your rawest desires and truths to unravel with a slip of the tongue. he exists beyond his name, becomes an indecipherable enigma even to himself. what is the use of an explanation if there is no meaning anyway? all he knows is that he loves you despite all the reasons, against all the reasons.

he sneaks under your shirt, fingertips teasingly exploring your skin as if he’s drawing a map. he feels you quiver when he finally reaches your chest, gently kneading the soft flesh in his palm. this makes you mewl in pleasure, arching your back as your hand unconsciously curls around his wrist, the cotton fabric separating the two of you. the action electrifies jungkook, makes him lose himself a little more, which he didn’t think was still possible.

“touch me, please- jungkook. need you-” you choke out a desperate whimper, nearly sobbing as you guide his hand between your thighs. you can’t bear to spend another second untouched; the last time you made love feels like an eternity ago. he slips past the waistband of your underwear, the only article of clothing you’re wearing below. but to your disappointment, he gently caresses your hip bone instead of dipping his long fingers into your wetness.

“shh, hold on, baby-” he forces himself to break away from the kiss, swollen and red lips glistening with spit. “baby, look at me. you didn’t drink, right? i don’t want to take advantage.”

you gape at him with your chest heaving up and down, dumbfounded. “how could you even think of that right now?”

his eyes widen in panic, worried that he might’ve offended you. “no, no, no-” his palms skim your thighs, guiding them to wrap around his slim waist. you gasp when he presses up on you and his hard length rubs on your folds, sending jolts of electricity up your spine. a gush of arousal dampens the thin material covering your center.

“i want you so fucking bad that it hurts.” he gingerly wipes away the tears that you didn’t even notice streamed down to your temples. you can’t remember the last time you cried before today, they must’ve gotten tired of asking for your permission. “but you were crying when you called, baby. i had to make sure.”

“oh, my boyfriend is such a gentleman.” you muse dreamily. pepper his face with delicate kisses, lips curving upward with an adoring smile. “look at him enjoying my kisses.”

you playfully squeeze his cheeks together, making his pillowy lips pucker.

“you really wanted to break up with me in this case, huh? you wanted to live without me and my kisses? no way.”

his eyelids flutter open, and he shakes his head as he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…” his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh. “going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

“good. you better.” your high-pitched giggles bounce off the walls as his lips trail down to your neck, licking a bold stripe over your ticklish spots. “i don’t have the patience for it, but i’ll be your trusty assistant.”

it’s ridiculous, how even the sound of your laughter turns him on even more.

—

jungkook learned that you finished your exams yesterday, having spent majority of the past two weeks pulling all-nighters to prepare for them. you seem to be confident about the results, the way you talked about it without concern. he never once doubted that you’re resolute and persevering, but acing your exams in the middle of a breakup is beyond what he can digest. it must’ve been a grueling experience, he can only imagine.

he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and then your lips, before dragging the blanket higher over your naked figure, a thicker one he brought out from the cabinet. poor thing, you fell asleep on his lap while he was drying your hair, incoherently murmuring about how tired you are.

he walks to your study space, fixing the loosening towel wrapped around his waist. one by one, he pulls out the items from the paper bag, returning them to their old places on your desk. he toothily grins at the windbreaker, ecstatic due to his plan on wearing it at work today. he wants to give it back to you smelling like him again.

an index card lands on the ground when he unfolds it, making him peer down in curiosity.

“what’s this?” he mumbles, bending down to pick it up.

jumbled thoughts. a letter shoved at the back of the mailbox. a hesitant confession. a bittersweet reminder that says: a wound does not magically disappear overnight. it requires the proper treatment to heal correctly, and even then, it might still leave a scar.

These are only a few of many. Why is this the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? I’m usually the more logical one. Was it really so bad that we weren’t going anywhere?

and messily crossed out at the end,

I miss you.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[asherbakugou]

When You Become Friends | He Falls For You

Jiang Kai | Kai Kalama

Kai impatiently tapped his foot, waiting for Reader to emerge from the doors of Ninjago City College. His amber eyes scanned every person who came out from the doors until he saw her.

They were wearing all red, which made him smirk as a blush colored his cheeks, with black heels and pants to tie the outfit together. It took Reader a second to find him across the street and for her to begin to make her way through the crowd.

"I'm surprised you actually waited," Reader mused, lips twitching upwards.

"How could I not escort such a lovely person home?" Kai asked, winking as Reader shook their head.

"Flirt."

"Only for you."

Reader did not know how true that was, did not know that Kai had completely stopped flirting with other girls even when she wasn't there.

Rolling their eyes, Reader turned and began to walk, leaving Kai to stride after her own long strides. Grinning smugly, he dropped an arm over their shoulder, eyeing them nervously from the corner of his eye to see if they were okay with it.

When his arm was left to rest upon her shoulders his smile grew as he held himself taller.

At their house, they sat with glasses of wine and chatted about their respective days.

The entire time Kai could barely keep his eyes off of her, listening intently though his mind wandered everytime he looked to her lips. Their voice was gentle, calm, the soft melody of light rain and sunshine shining through the clouds. When it was his turn to talk, Reader gave him their full attention, asking questions when things confused her.

He was falling for her. Not just her looks, but her.

Zane Julien

Zane smiled gently when he saw Reader practically bouncing towards him, satchel swinging with their movements.

"Zane!" Reader called, throwing her arms around his neck in a quick hug. When she pulled back, Zane privately wished she hadn't.

She had to tilt her head up a little bit to be able to look him in the eyes and it always set his wires alight. "It is good to see you again, Reader."

"It's good to see you too. So, where too today?"

"Well, a new exhibit opened at the museum about the prehistoric animals of Ninjago. I believed it would be something that interests you, but if not–"

"I'd love to go!" Reader blurted out, shrinking back into herself when some strangers looked at her wierdly. "Sorry. But I'd love to go. Come on."

Grabbing onto his wrist she tugged and he allowed himself to be led as she happily gave out every piece of information she had on prehistoric animals, which was a surprising amount.

While normally Zane would have cut off anyone else to remind them that he was a Nindroid, and as such, knew such things but coming from her . . . It was far more interesting hearing it from her than pulling up the information on his database. The rest of the day, Zane was hesitant to call it a date, he watched as Reader bounced around from display to display to take pictures and read the little plaque's full of information.

He adored the way her eyes lit up as her mind ran with hundreds of ideas for her art. He was falling for her, her mind, her creativity, everything.

Cole Brookstone

Cole sat at one of the tables of Fairy Tale, waiting for Reader to finish up the last little bit of organization for the next day of work. Smiling, Reader emerged, sitting across from Cole and pushing over a cup of hot cocoa for him.

In their own hands was a London Fog, their personal favorite.

"So how was the store today?" Cole asked, leaning forward a little.

"It was good. Miya's getting more confident in herself, even dealt with a customer before they could get too loud and rowdy," Reader said, waving a hand.

"I'm glad she's settling in well."

"She still can't believe that the Earth Ninja comes to visit, sometimes just to see lil' ol' me," Reader teased, voice low and pleasently husky making Cole swallow. Their gaze was lidded but focused, exhaustion showing.

"Well, I come for the cake too."

Reader barked out a laugh, shaking their head. "You should've seen her face when you devoured a full cake in less than 5 minutes. Oh, she came running back to tell me and I thought somethin' was wrong with how afraid she looked. I come out and its just you, devouring a cake in one sitting."

Cole vividly remembered that interaction and rolled his eyes affectionately as his cheeks colored.

"No need to be embarresed, Cole," Reader soothed, reaching to pat his hand. "It was funny, and not in a bad way."

Cole felt his grin grow. Reader was attentive and so direct that they rarely let misunderstandings last, and they were constantly checking on those around.

"Meh, I've had worse."

"Worse?" Reader raised an eyebrow but did not pry, though they were curious. Cole didn't mind and happily dove into one of the many stories he had.

Reader watched him so softly that he could practically feel himself melting. He was falling for the person who had no problem telling him the truth, never letting him fall into his own thoughts.

Jay Walker

Jay bounced in place as the line to the rollercoaster moved slowly forward. Reader, on the other hand, groaned, bored from having to wait in line so long when all she wanted to do was get on the rollercoaster.

"So, how'd Lloyd's new engine come out?" Jay asked, still bouncing on his toes.

Reader grinned, happy to talk about her baby, "Well, Nya came to pick it up last week so Lloyd could test it, and the video she sent . . . Dragons! It was going so fast, and the turns he made were so smooth! I was so proud of my baby!"

"Congrats! I wish I could've seen it," Jay complained, genuinly a little sad that he hadn't.

"Well, I've always got new projects and I wouldn't mind a test partner," Reader offered, grinning. Jay lit up in delight.

"You're kidding!"

"No way! Why would I kid about that?!"

"How many in your party?" The lady at the gate asked, looking bored to tears.

"Two," Jay answered, so she pointed to the first row.

Trying to hide their twin squeals of excitement they both bounded towards the front row, bouncing together as they waited for the next coaster to come in.

"Oh, this coaster is supposed to be the fastest and largest in Ninjago," Reader said, spitting out fact after fact that Jay was quick to build on.

"Yeah, they replaced the old track cause it got less popular."

Climbing in, the bar was pressed down over them until they were firmly wedged inside.

Jay happened to glance over at Reader, whose cheeks were flushed from excitement, eyes wide in anticipation, and could his heart stutter as his entire face went bright red. He didn't know he could fall for anyone again, especially after Nya.

But looking at Reader, who always let him be himself, instead of scolding him for being innapropriate at times of crisis, he knew he was falling for her. Falling for her looks, her quick wit, and her humor.

Lloyd Garmadon

Lloyd couldn't stop his eyes from flickering over Reader, whose legs were thrown into his lap as she read a comic. He'd hesitantly rested a hand on her calf but she hadn't reacted in any way, content to flick through the comic in her hands.

Unfortunately he hadn't been able to focus on his comic, too focused on how pretty Reader looked sparawled on the couch of their tiny apartment with the sun shining around them like a halo.

"You know, if you didn't want to read your comic, why'd you suggest we read," Reader teased, peering over her comic at him. He sputtered, face growing red as her smile grew bigger. Unable to keep it in any longer she busted out laughing, dropping her comic onto the coffee table. "I'm kidding, sweets."

Sweets. A nickname that she had begun using after watching him inhale a bag of gummy bears in less than 2 minutes. Everytime it rolled off her tongue, he could feel his cheeks heat up.

"Well, I didn't know what else you'd wanna do."

"Well . . ." Reader glanced to the side, pursing her lips in thought. "We could watch a scary movie."

"A scary movie? Hehe, good luck finding one that will scare me," Lloyd said, poofing out his chest. "I've seen all the spooky and scary in real life, nothing'll scare me."

The wide grin probably should have made him nervous but it just made his heart pound. Swinging her legs off the couch she headed over to her bookcase full of movies, searching for a specific dvd.

Annabelle.

An hour later when he was practically tucked into her side as he stared at the screen in fear, he couldn't even be dissapointed in himself. Reader had happily invited him to cuddle, so now she was tucked against his side, head on his shoulder as his head rested on hers.

Reader had, of course, laughed at him but her teasing had gone no further, simply offering him comfort. She'd even offered to change the movie but he didn't want to lose any more dignity than he already had.

Not that Reader would see him less. But he wanted to impress the girl who'd begun tugging at his heart just by smiling at him.

Morro

Morro quietly stepping into the bakery, finding Reader waiting for him already. Her gaze was on the same spot it always managed to fall on. The spot where Anya had been shot just over a month ago, losing her life in an effort to get away.

"Reader," Morro murmured, grabbing her by the shoulder to escort her out. Since the incident, Morro had felt indebted in a sense to at least check up on the girl who witnessed the murder of her coworker and friend, but it had grown into a friendship. Somehow.

"Sorry," She whispered, leaning into him slightly. Morro hummed, keeping an arm around her shoulders in comfort.

"How's your week been?"

"Difficult. I think I'm gonna switch to a new therapist," Reader admitted, glancing up at him.

Morro frowned, "Why?"

"He's just . . . He makes me uncomfortable and-and I know that they're going too but I can't . . ."

"If he does anything," Morro rasped, the nearby winds picking up in a quick demonstration that made Reader smile.

"I know. You'll kick his ass," Reader giggled, leaning up to press a sweet kiss against his cheek. Morro turned his head away a bit to hide the flush of his face.

Since they'd begun hanging out, Morro had learned how physically affectionate she was, something he'd never had any experience with.

"Come on," Morro grumbled, disguising the warmth he felt at the affection. "Ice cream place or bookstore?"

"Ice cream, then bookstore?"

Snorting, Morro nodded.

Giggling Reader happily picked up the pace, excited by the prospect of ice cream and books. Morro couldn't help but watch Reader softly, not even realizing how his face softened.

Since he'd gone through the Rift he'd struggled with touch of any kind unless he was fighting but when it was Reader the touch felt . . . comforting. Plus she understood bounderies and could read him surprisingly well, so she always seemed to know when she could and could not touch him.

For the past week anytime he thought of her, her snile, her laugh, her eyes, his heart would jump. It had taken him days to truly understand what he was feeling. Morro was falling for Reader, quickly and badly.

[aezuria]

okay okay but like could you do hcs about Jason grace x shy/cutesy fem!reader?? It would be so cute omgg everyone looks up to Jason as this intimidating badass leader but his gf is just the cutest, softest, most adorable lil thing ever??

*ੈ✎ he don't bite! (yes he do!)

content: jason grace x reader; hcs

warnings: none?? i made this more camp jupiter based tho sorry

note: THIS REQUEST WAS SOO CUTSEY OMGGG jason is a doberman bf fr

so like yk how everyone in camp jupiter sees him as this super tough guy???

who wouldnt; he was the former praetor, son of jupiter himself, literally trained for war since he was a toddler

why is a guy like that walking around with YOU??

the most sweetest girl to ever grace the earth

how does that even happen?

jason is quite literally marching around with perfect posture, glaring at everyone (he's really just squinting cause he forgot his glasses... again)

and then he sees you!!

even with shit eyesight he knows the shape of you by heart

and his whole demeanor just?? softens? lights up? relaxes? all of the above

it was just such a rough day for him; he forgets everybody around him and just scoops you into his arms, burying his face into the crook of your neck

a bit of an awkward position with him having to bend down at a weird angle but he doesnt care!!

he just wants to hold you and have you hold him and cuddle :((

meanwhile everyones like WTF WHO ARE YOU AND IS THIS REALLY JASON

literally melts in your arms the second you hug him back

"you wanna go rest?" you whisper into the crook of his neck, to which he nodded against your shoulder. you laughed lightly and pulled away, or at least tried to. "let's go then."

he begrudgingly let you out of his arms, following behind you

everybody else is still reeling in shock btw

you guys were the TALK OF THE TOWN for WEEKS after

one of those things where youd never guess but when you know abt it, it just makes SO much sense

you guys are polar opposites in such a good way (to everybody else at least)

cuddling with you is his best relaxing thing to do

you literally had to get him a life cause the only things he knew to do were work and fight

bro has never had a day off like ever

once you two started dating, he was introduced to the most addicting drug: physical touch

he was probably really shy at first; really really likes it but feels like he doesnt deserve it cause all hes been treated with is harshness

and hes unused to being so gently handled

(someone give him a hug fr)

which is what YOU did!

now he love loves it, especially on days like these when everythings just too much and all he wants to do is unwind

runs to you like a puppy

LOVE LOVES being the little spoon even though hes shy abt it

he can do both but smth abt being held instead of doing the holding for once makes his heart heavy in a bittersweet way

would spend all day in your arms if he could just get out of his workaholic attitude (which is never, but hes doing better with you)

okay, we can all agree jason is scary when hes mad

which is USUALLY unlikely unless someone hurts his friends or smth like that

but sometimes he just looks mad and if you werent close to him, you wouldnt be able to tell the difference

but back to him being MAD mad

like, abt to beat the living (dead?) shit out of a monster mad because there is one RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU EW GET IT OFF

he just, did NOT NEED THAT TODAY HES TIRED AND SAD AND that was his breaking point

unleashes HELL on that poor monster, literally calls down a whole storm

the skies turn dark, clouds heavy with rain and the whole camp just looks up like ??? was this on the weather forecast

then it starts raining LIGHTNING and they all know who it is

and go inside and hide

was it a bit overdramatic? yes, but jason deserves to be dramatic sometimes

once he FINALLY finishes the job, he stomps back into the camp, terminus even taking note and doesnt say anything quippy

youd think he has the plague by the way people make room for him to walk

but then you poke through the crowd and spot him. "jason?"

hed know your voice anywhere, his head immediately turning to the direction he heard it

you were already right next to him, rubbing his arm and giving him your signature sweet smile

the stormy air around him seemed to part for you, like you were sun seeping through the cracks in the clouds

"y/n," he greeted you warmly, linking your arms together

what an odd sight the two of you made, but a cute one nonetheless!