#to my mutuals you should give the expanse another try | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

existslikepristin · 2 years

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Been holding on to this one in a finished/unedited state for a few months now because I wasn't too happy with it. @worldsover did some editing for me. It still feels like something's missing (I'm not going to try to make Levi literally rewrite the whole thing), so feel free to give me critiques and suggestions, even if it's "yeah, I see what you mean and it is a little odd". I don't want to avoid posting it for forever, so let's call it a learning experience.

Regardless, I hope you enjoy! This is my first explicitly stated female reader insert, so that's yet another fun step.

(Also, I know I promised that the next story would be "normal" but you know what? Anything is normal compared to my last fic, so the only critique I will not be accepting is "Waaah, this isn't 'normal!'")

Tags: NSFW, TheLounge, Red Velvet, Irene, Female reader insert, anal, rimming, not a single line of dialogue, canonical silence, ass worship, massage oils, hand holding, yeah you’re deeefinitely the dominant one here

Open and Shut Up

~~~~~

No talking.

You can get behind that. That’s totally sexy. What’s less sexy… is a flowchart.

Obviously, you printed it out. Irene is going to be paying you for thi—It’s not payment, you remind yourself. It’s a mutual favor between acquaintances which may or may not involve money or goods/services which require it.

You scowl retroactively at Yeri’s so-called humorous insistence that you are, effectively, a prostitute. Performing sex acts in exchange, one time, for smoked salmon bagels is most definitely not prostitution, as you have reminded her many times.

Trying very hard to put that train of thought behind you, you glance around at the room. Low light, vanilla lavender sandalwood candles, obscenely soft towels, lube options, massage oils, and the stupid fucking laminated flowchart. You sigh—

NO! You don’t sigh, actually! Because the no talking rule was emphasized in great detail during negotiations, and included moans, groans, hums, whispers, grunts, and unnecessarily heavy breathing. And since a sigh is a heavy breath, you fucking hold that shit in tight!

But why do you need to hold in your sighs? Well, because of the final feature of the room that wasn’t mentioned two paragraphs ago: Irene, lying entirely nude on her stomach, on a bed of silk sheets, implying that your job—NOT your job, excuse you—has already begun. You entered the room mere seconds ago, so this should be extremely obvious to you, but you had to take care of a bit of exposition before you could really admire her body or get into the action. Perhaps you should do one of those two things now.

You can hardly believe what you’re seeing. Her slim legs and waist, the expanse of her back easily defeating the silkiness of the sheets she’s on, her elegant neck, her luxurious pitch black hair twirled into a loose bun, and the mild plumpness of her ass, peeking out from above the creases where her thighs meet it. Now, you’ve seen plenty of naked idols, but it’s the prestige that comes with this idol in particular that may have you so excited. Or it’s what she wants you to do to her. It’s hard to say. Point is, you’re wet, and you’re probably going to have to lay down a towel of your own.

On that note, you forgot an important aspect of the exposition: You’re not allowed to touch yourself.

That’s right. You’re in a room with a naked Irene, perhaps the most desired (per capita by fans and/or marketing departments) idol in history, preparing to gape her asshole in exchange for goods and/or services and/or currency totalling in value no less than the approximate equivalent worth of this spa treatment, and you aren’t supposed to get yourself off. But you are supposed to be naked, so you remove your shirt and bra, making just enough noise for her to hear you undressing, since that’s supposed to be how you let her know you’re about to start—

Oh, yes. Did you forget the most, actually, critically important part of your exposition? Oh, you think you caught on to it moments ago? Why, yes. You’re here, specifically, to gape her asshole. No more, except any action that will lead toward said gaping, and definitely no less. You are to take the role of dominant, while she takes the role of submissive. Never mind the fact that, per her instructions, you can’t speak, or make any noise, or touch yourself, or use her body to get yourself off, or choose your own state of undress, or touch any part of her not shown in the diagram on the flowchart, or do anything that isn’t explicitly spelled out on the flowchart… But you are required to spank her if she makes any noises. So yeah, you’re totally the dominant one here. (And, to be more specific, you are to keep track of which buttcheek you last spanked so that you can make sure to spread the ass-slapping evenly between cheeks and preserve symmetry, followed by immediate continuation of whatever action you were in the midst of prior to said spank.)

… Yes, that is the last of the exposition. What? You want to have a flashback to when the verbal negotiations were happening? Absolutely not. That’s dialogue, which is technically against the rules. It’s time to do things to Irene’s butthole. Stop stalling.

Once you remove your skirt, slippers, and underwear, you get onto your knees, noting that the floor seems slightly spongy and wondering what that’s about. Irene’s legs are closed. The crevasse of her ass on its own makes you want to scream, but the centerpoint of the cross formed by that crevasse and her thigh crease . There is the slightest gap at that point which reveals the tiniest sneak peak of what hides between. You bite down on your lips to suppress your instinctual lewd moan. Okay, you’re just getting started. Calm down, or this is going to be impossibly difficult.

You straddle Irene’s calves (without touching them!), take a deep and silent breath, and lean forward, placing your palms first on the flawless globes of her ass, then letting your fingers come to rest as well. They’re such a perfect combination of firm, soft, and smooth that it brings tears to your eyes. The inability to comment on them out loud brings you near-physical pain and certainly-mental anguish. If Irene cares, she’s not making it known. She’s deathly silent, and you only know she’s alive because of the way her back rises and falls with her breath.

Contact achieved. Looking at the flowchart isn’t necessary for now. You had a pretty easy time memorizing steps one through five since they don’t have any branching-off points. Step two is to inspect. You look away and take a couple more deep (and silent!) breaths, then increase the pressure of your hands on Irene’s butt and ever so slowly pull apart.

Within the realm of your imagination, you can see yourself comically hyperventilating. In the real world, you see a hole that you could only ever describe as manicured. Not a hair in sight, and some shade of pink so unrealistically perfect that it probably has a Pantone color named after it (Irene’s Butthole Pink? Pick a hex code). The miniscule folds of flesh are already very slightly gaped, giving you a near-imperceptible view into her interior, as if she’d had someone else very recently do what you’re about to, or as if she’d prepared herself with a butt plug. You wonder if Irene even owns a butt plug though, considering she can probably convince any person on the planet to open up her ass any time she would even want to use one. Or maybe she does have one. The Alexander III Commemorative Fabergé egg is still missing, after all…

You pull a little further, and can’t contain your shudder as not only her asshole opens by another couple millimeters, but her pussy lips spread and eventually split apart when the pressure barely overcomes the moisture holding them together. Your eyes and heart flutter, and you think you might faint. The vagina is one of many areas which is not indicated as touchable on the diagram, which hurts your soul because it’s the perfect number of shades darker than the surrounding skin and—

It’s time to focus! Asshole only! Get your mind out of the gutter!

Keeping one hand in place so she stays half-open, you get a handful of one of the massage oils. It feels room temperature, but you're supposed to hold it until it's warmer, so you stare at Irene's back as you try not to let too much drip away. The movement of her breathing is steady and subtle. In. Out. You try to match her pace. In. Out. In. Out.

When it's ready, you let the oil flow off your hand into the cleft of Irene's ass. She doesn't so much as flinch, which you obviously credit more to your excellent reading of body temperature and less to her ass-trance. But back to the butt in hand.

The oil travels leisurely down her crack, speeding up ever so slightly as the path becomes more vertical, and stopping to pool on top of her hole. You place your oily hand on its designated cheek again and repeat the process on the other side.

It’s time to really get started now… with step three-dash-C.

The tips of your thumbs meet just over her hole and press down flatly so that they do not enter her. You slowly shift them around each other and back, massaging with just the right pressure to stay on the rim. The rest of your hands are for massaging the rest of her derriere. It’s not necessary, but you want to show off your manual dexterity, and you want to make sure she’s as relaxed as can—She’s effectively already achieved Nirvana down there, from the looks of things, actually. The relaxation is for you. You’re the one who’s Nirvous about this anal—Is this a joke to you? It’s time for another spread test. You need to make sure Irene’s ready, because maybe somewhere between steps four-dash-E and four-dash-K you’ll forget to off yourself for that pun… Thank fuck you didn’t say that one out loud.

Step four is the first insertion.

Every ounce of fortitude you have is tested. You hold back your shaking. It’s just a finger. It is just a finger, right? You’ve done this plenty of times, to plenty of idols, no less. Well, not a silent butt-fingering, per se, but you’ve been knuckle deep in other idols before, and often more than one idol and often more than one knuckle! Irene just has a gravitas that makes yo—Don’t you dare say she has a gravitass. Stay. Quiet! And keep her ass spread with your free hand.

You watch the carefully trimmed, polished nail of your forefinger leisurely slip into her asshole. Then you pass your first knuckle. You stop on the second and quietly release your held breath. You don’t recall making an analogy about the feeling of her ass cheeks, but you’ll sure as hell compare the interior of her butt to cashmere. The minor gape you’d noticed previously has no effect on how tightly the hole hugs your digit.

Irene’s back rises a centimeter higher, and falls more slowly. Her pattern is broken. You catch your breath again. Did you do something wrong? Is the massage oil adequate? No, it’s only meant to be the starter. This was the whole intention. Right? You glance at the flowchart. Yes, step three, massage oil only, no additional lubrication. You do your best to relax and drag your finger back.

The way her asshole holds on to your finger is its own story of seduction, affair, and dramatic departure. She (her hole is a she) clearly doesn’t want her (so is your finger) to go, but she has to, lest her family shun her. But she cannot resist returning, leaving again despite all the kissing and languid hugging, and returning once more. One last time, she escapes completely, but after telling the story to a saucy friend, introduces Irene’s butt to them, and suddenly the sordid romance becomes a menage a trois.

Two fingers, two knuckles deep in Irene’s ass, you note your own wetness beginning to trail down your inner thigh. You aren’t sure exactly why the thought crosses your mind that you hope that it will somehow evaporate against your ragingly hot and bothered leg.

Now, out, and back in, out, and back in. With your breath. You match Irene’s. Out, and back in.

You gulp. You’re halfway through step four’s substeps. Next is the addition of another finger and more thrusting at a torturously slow pace for an actually timed five minutes. You find yourself hypnotized by it. The five minutes pass by in something more like twelve seconds, and the clock on the wall gently changes color to let you know it’s time to make the final preparations for step five. It’s not magical. It’s just connected by bluetooth to the phone to your left.

But what is magical? You’ve come this far, so you should know by now. It’s Irene’s asshole. You remove two of three fingers, then reinsert one more from the opposite hand, and as cautiously as you can, pull apart. There’s the magic.

Irene’s butt is open, and not just immediately around your fingers, but in a whole oval shape. It’s not enormously wide, but it’s enough that you could reasonably, without discomfort, insert the tip of your tongue.

… Hey. Wouldn’t you know it? That’s step five.

Rimming is always a questionable thing to do to your nose, ranging from the worst to a merely neutral idea. When you draw in close to Irene’s open ass, however, it’s the massage oil that overpowers your trepidatious olfactory sense. You’d noticed earlier that it was labeled as Fresh Linen, a scent that certainly makes sense given Irene’s reputation for laundry-doing, but it triggers a seemingly unrelated and entirely Loony memory of the smell of coffee. How the smells of linen and coffee are linked in your mind, you may never know. Perhaps you should see a professional about that.

But how’s the taste? Well, bland with the slight bitter spike of chemicals that improve viscosity but shouldn’t be ingested in large quantities. The risk of health complications is extremely low though, and you’d risk significantly more for this specific opportunity.

Irene’s butt cheeks and your face cheeks are still separated by your hands, but as of step five-dash-B that will no longer be the case. For now, your lips and tongue are in full contact, and that would be more than enough. To be licking around and inside the asshole of Irene, the rarely disputed queen of idols, you have to be infinitely lucky. You thank heaven you are.

Your focus is drawn in further and further. No more jokes. No more references to other stories. Even the most obvious pun/reference slips from your mind as you try your best to keep your tongue soft for Irene’s pleasure.

Your complete and total compliance doesn’t go unnoticed by Irene, somehow. The tiniest roll of her hips, that barest indication of her appreciation, kicks your core into overdrive. The trail down your thigh widens and it’s all you can do to beg the universe that you won’t drip on her calves.

It takes more strength than you knew you had not to squeal your desperation into her ass. Your thighs and your lungs and your everything else burn with desire. You know it’s not for want of air since your nose is still free, so it has to be your overwhelming need for Irene’s attention. You’d do anything. You are doing anything. A friendly agreement to gape her hole? No, this is a test, a labor, a trial. You’re proving your devotion.

You’re not licking a queen’s ass.

You’re worshipping a goddess.

It’s not a flowchart.

It’s a divine ritual.

The shifting color on the clock only mostly guides you out of your trance. You pull away with a heavy heart, staring half lidded at the strings of saliva still connecting you with what you now live for. There’s no difference in size, but you much prefer the sheen you left on her rim to that of the oil. Step five isn’t over yet.

Do rituals have steps? You try to think back to any hieroglyphics you’ve seen in old textbooks. There were no numbers… Obviously there were no numbers. They were hieroglyphics. You can’t read that shit—

Stop.

You remove your fingers, allowing Irene’s ass to close once more. It happens slowly. You nearly choke, watching her hole return to its previous shape with your breath held so tightly in your chest that it feels like something is going to burst. Hey, maybe it will, but that can’t happen yet. That would be too loud, and your goddess demands silence, so you open your mouth to simply allow the breath to drift out along with any comments you had on the subject.

You close back in once again, this time letting your face settle against Irene’s cheeks and gently nudge them apart, reattaching your tongue to her rim. You want to dive in, to feel her squeeze you, maybe even cum around you, but that’s not part of the ritual. You need to give her rest. The best is yet to cum—no. Come. You give her the lightest rimming you can, holding your tongue back to merely caress her asshole while you silently revel in the light press of her glutes on your cheeks.

Another slight roll of her hips sends you reeling. Your vision fades and Irene is all that’s left. You can see the movement. It’s not just her breath, but her oh-so-gentle rocking back and forth that makes the light and shadows play across her back like the grains of the Elysian fields waving in the breeze. It doesn’t seem right for you to be allowed to experience this, to taste this, to be treated to a view of paradise, to understand the touch of divinity.

The gently shifting color of the clock, magenta to yellow, broadens your vision again. You back away, taking a deep breath that you only now realize you desperately needed.

Without thinking, finally, you do as Irene has commanded. You place your palms on her ass: your altar. You slide your thumbs into her glorious hole, and you pull apart softly. Her muscles have relaxed so thoroughly that you meet no resistance. She is simply open, as if this is just how she was always meant to be, told in myths that cannot be written. Her soft ass doesn’t try to clench down. It remains a portal that entices you, begs you to enter.

And you could. Certainly, as is the case with other gods, Irene could forgive you for showing her your specialty. You, the heroic champion, could show her an unexpected pleasure. Touch her clit, lap at her juices, grind yourself on the back of her thigh. Her instruction indicated that you’re the dominant one here. Make it so.

You hook the first knuckle of each of your pointer fingers, as directed, inside.

No. You can’t get greedy now. You’re not that kind of hero.

Irene opens further around your digits with no effort. Now you see the depth of her abyss, and it does not try to close. Irene wants you to see into her. Even the beautiful spheres of her ass to either side, her graceful back, her soft legs, her captivating hair… It all fades away. You know what the next step is. You don't need the clock to intuit the moment she's ready. Your higher thoughts and your lust blend together.

Slowly, you pull further apart. Not much. It may not seem like it's so small, but this immortal gateway still needs to be treated with reverence. For every millimeter you actually widen her, though, you see miles more. It makes you feel light-headed, even a little dizzy. And when you slide your fingers out, those feelings become far more distinct. Irene remains open.

Gaping may have been an appropriate word for her to have described what she wanted from you, but it was far too crude to represent what you see now. Then again, you’re not sure what else to call it. It’s been a while since the thesaurus failed you.

Irene's muscles are relaxed. Serene, even. Like this is where they should naturally be. You simply guided them.

You lean back in and gently kiss her rim. It's dangerous, running your tongue around the defined edge of the mortal and everlasting, but exhilarating. The slight rolling of her hips is your indication that Irene is feeling the same passion, for all the hubris it takes to assume such a thing about your goddess. As far as you know, she could just be moving because your tongue and lips aren't in the right places and making up for your inadequacies.

Still, every slight, slow shade of her ass against your cheek is a divine caress, urging you further along the journey. Your kisses are as insistent as you can get them without making the grave error of smacking your lips.

In the foggiest reaches of your vision, a hand reaches out to you along the floor. Irene grasps at the air like she wants something. That’s not part of the ritual. You can only think of one thing in the moment, and you take her hand in yours.

Irene’s fingers close around yours and curl into your palm. They flutter every time you swirl your tongue across her rim, and, after a moment, they squeeze.

It’s terrifying, at first, when Irene trembles underneath you. It evokes thoughts of earthquakes, brought upon by the wrath of the gods. But no, it’s orgasm. Her asshole contracts slightly, but otherwise just quivers against your mouth. It ends almost as soon as it begins.

Irene takes her hand away, and a bit of your soul with it. She lightly presses on the clock, and it shifts to white. You don’t have to be reminded of what that means. Steeling your heart, you back off of Irene’s ass and carefully push yourself up to your feet. Even at your full height, you can see into Irene’s hole. Taking it in with the full picture of the rest of her body is an incredible sight to behold. Knowing that you contributed to it makes it even more beautiful.

As you look over her, your eyes go wide and you have to contain a gasp. Irene’s calves are covered in little wet streaks, right where you had been hovering over her. Embarrassment washes over you. It's hard to imagine being so turned on as to not have felt yourself dripping on her, especially after having worried about that very thing mere minutes ago. You want to reach for a towel to correct your mistake, but you know you're not supposed to touch her. You're supposed to be dressing yourself and leaving, so you step away, and reach down for your clothes.

Your arms feel heavy as you pull your underwear up, only getting more embarrassed about how soaked they immediately become.

As you put on your shirt though, Irene moves again. You can't help but stand perfectly still, mesmerized by the smooth motion of Irene getting up onto her knees and sitting back on her heels. Now upright, she's even more statuesque, back curved inward from her generous bottom up to her gentle shoulders. One hand releases her hair from its bun, and the night sky falls past her neck, simultaneously obscuring and enhancing that gorgeous expanse.

Irene’s torso twists a quarter in your direction. It's hard to think that for however long you've been here, this is the first you've seen her face and it's merely a silhouette, not even far enough around that she could look at you out of the corner of her eye. All you can see is her eyelashes, pointed down, to indicate that her eyes are closed. The movement also coyly presents you with the side of her breast, yet another of the endless curves of her body that you have had no opportunity to worship.

One graceful arm comes back. Her fingers find their way to the cleft of her ass and sensually feel their way down. You don't even think to wipe away your drool as you watch those fingers dip inward. They move in and out, unhurried and exquisite.

Your mind reels. Were you not enough? Is she just basking in the remnants of her pleasure? Is she doing this for you to watch? Should you even still be here?

Irene continues to toy lightly with her asshole while at the same time her other hand shakes out her hair from below.

Your legs twitch. You can't stay here anymore. You practically jump into your skirt, grab your shoes, and you're out the door. You keep the doorknob turned in your hand even as you whip yourself outside so the latch won't click when you close it.

In the hallway, you slump back against the wall. Your body is on fire. You need to be touched. You don’t live very far away. You can get home fast, and if you can’t grab someone on the way, idol or otherwise, you’ll be sitting on a vibrator all night—

The door you just came through opens again. Irene walks out in a shoulderless sweater, just long enough to cover her shorts, and sneakers. How she can look so casual, you’re sure you’ll never comprehend.

She doesn’t turn to leave, though. She steps closer to you, and closer, and closer. The hallway isn’t that wide. Are her steps inches long or is space expanding? Either way, she crosses and stands over you. It doesn’t matter what your height was. Your knees will only hold you against the wall at a height that makes it look like Irene is miles taller.

You open your mouth. You want to ask her to make good on her end of your bargain right now. Or maybe not. It doesn’t really matter. You just want to say something. But before you can, you feel the shock of physical connection. Irene strokes your cheek with the back of her fingers. Her eyes capture yours, holding you steady.

The distance becomes inches, and you’re paralyzed. She doesn’t blink as she gets even closer, but closes her eyes just in time to remove the final gap and touch her lips to yours. She kisses you so softly that you can barely feel it. In fact, the whole of your body seems suddenly light and cloudish, like a breeze could send you away. You even feel a drop of rain leave your eye.

When she retreats, she gives you the coyest smile to ever coy, and as she approaches her full height again, her fingers leave your jawline and the lightness you felt reverses. Gravity crashes your ass into the floor.

Then Irene turns to leave, breaking the line of sight to her eyes, freeing your own to wander. The last thing you see before she turns the corner is that she is not, in fact, wearing shorts under her sweater. You get one last glimpse of your handiwork. Though you can’t see very well and can’t imagine her ass is still gaped now that she’s back on her feet, it is still visibly wet, as are the backs of her thighs and calves.

#irene smut #irene #red velvet #red velvet smut #female reader #kpop smut

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macgyvertape · 2 years

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I present two scifi blorbos who have a lot in common; Joe Miller from the Expanse and Uldren Sov from Destiny. Warning: major spoilers for The Expanse.

#the expanse #the expanse spoilers #destiny 2 #uldren sov #joe miller #to my mutuals you should give the expanse another try #until eregore monsters attack us in d2 #i'll go with dark ether being the parallel for the protomolecule #let me be clear i like both these characters a lot #their assholeness is part of their appeal

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

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Posted

Pairing | Tom Holland x reader

Summary | whilst sharing an intimate moment with Tom, he voices that he wants to take a photo to commemorate being together again. But accidents happen, and it is not uncommon for his fingers to slip.

Warnings | ass grabbing, accidents happen I guess, clumsy Tom, suggestive statement

Requested ☑️

Quick link to my masterlist, in case you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Lips wandered up the expanse of your neck, lightly trailing up the ladder of skin. Tom was beneath you on the sofa, sat in a relaxed disarray. Admittedly, it was nice seeing him so calm, with no worries from his demanding job. And not to mention, you had him all to yourself.

That, was the best part. No cameras were capturing every angle of the beautiful man, not that you blamed them at all for doing so, however, the advantage of the privacy that you had vaguely gained, had become a newfound and favourite treasure.

He was at home, and with that prospect came the best version of himself. The one that would take Tessa for long and enduring walks; the one that could be careless to the promoting that his family have him; and best of all, the one whom would allow his hands to slip a little further down on you =r backside than he would usually allow himself.

“I love your ass.” Tom nonchalantly admitted, giving a beloved squeeze to said part of your body. “I think it may be the thing I miss most about you when I’m gone.” His admittance earned himself a playful, yet loving, swat by your undermining hand.

But despite his gentle punishment, he still resisted against your faltering will, his palms finding claim once more on your low cheeks. A grin, exhibiting an accordance upon his pleased expression. He pursued a tightness behind his sterile grip, imprinting the firmness of his engorging fingertips into your plump flesh.

“Should i be offended that all you seem to miss is this ass?” A light laugh tore through the wall of your teeth, as your hands tenderly padded at his covered shoulders. With fond and eyes of pure love, Tom made mutual eye contact, reaching one of his hands up to plant upon the outdent of your cheek.

“I wouldn’t say that was all.” Tom drew his words out, allowing his sweet and talented fingers to drift towards the corner and your mouth, hinting at its forbidden talents. Squinting lovingly at him, you darted your tongue out to swipe at the pad of his finger, causing him to retract them.

“You’re so romantic.” The sarcasm was tense, as you watched Tom swerve his gaze around you face turned siyour waist, and land on your jean clad bottom. At his insinuation to do so, you could only roll your eyes at his unsurprising and boyish behaviour. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

With no hesitancy, Tom reached into his pocket, gripping his phone, and scrolling on its well used screen. “You told me to.” Was his mechanism of defence, and with one hand, he aimed the front lens of the camera as far as way as his arm could reach, whilst his other remained squeezing the fat of your behind.

At his behaviour, you could barely hold in a smile, as your head sideways, giving a profile to the image that he was intent of capturing. He took a few, to which he stated to be ‘perfect’. But all of a sudden, as he was mindlessly scrolling, and giving a teasing pinch to your ass, his face fell.

Tom was always one for spoilers, and this circumstance was not indifferent. The feed of your shared presence and comfort in one another had been accidentally set as a post upon his Instagram account, causing him dread. He had meant for another picture to take its public space, and his heart rate picked up as he saw likes begin to flow through on his notifications.

It was supposed to be a picture in regards to his movie, promoting its release date. And instead, what had been delivered as online content was the well focused image of his hand clasping your ass, and both of your faces in the viewpoint. The pair of you were screwed, your agents would have a field day with trying to come up with a solution to your privacy.

“What did you do?” At that question, he gulped, and froze as you took the phone out of his hand, scouring the screen with your adept eyes. And what you were met with, was the profile that he had taken of the pair of you, posted publicly onto the popular app. “Tom!”

“I didn’t mean to!” He urged, there being no argument between the pair of you, instead, it was simply him trying to defend his accidental actions. “I’ll take it down.”

“Approximately five hundred and - oh, now thirty people have liked this already. We’re screwed, they’ll have already screen shotted it. Our cover is officially blown.” You put the phone down on the side of the sofa, rubbing your temples efficiently at the thought.

The pair of you had handled your privacy so well, until now. The entire lid off your operation was gone, leaving all for the fans to devour. “I don’t want to even look at the comments.”

“Hey.” Tom softly spoke, his hands fleeing your ass and coming to tilt your face in his direction. “Maybe it’s not so bad, we’ve been playing this game for a while now. And whilst the secrecy is exciting, I want to take you to premiers and no one gasp in surprise, and walk down the street hand in hand with you. At least now we don’t have to hide what we have together.”

“Thomas Stanley Holland.” You addressed him using his full name, bringing your palms to rub sweetly on his chest. “Now tell me, were you not opposed the idea of being careless and letting that finger of yours slip so that the whole world knows about us?”

“I used my thumb actually.” He corrected you, leaning up to press a living chaste kiss upon your inviting lips. “And it was an accident, but I’ve thought about coming out about our relationship for a while now. The things I’d do to have you on my arm as we walk down the carpet; we wouldn’t have to seem like strangers any longer.”

“Well, we aren’t strangers my love.” Swirling a curl around your finger, that hung down from his head and onto his face, you smiled at how soft his locks were. “And because of your little mistake, we don’t have to act outside of sets anymore.”

A part of you was relieved, to know that now, the entirety of both of your worlds would be aware of the connection that was present between the pair of you. Another was in fear of how the fans would react to their beloved Spider-Man actor being off the market. However, you couldn’t help to love Tom, and his nimble fingers, that had found home on your ass once more.

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notkageyamasprincess · 3 years

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glad you came | kageyama tobio x reader

request: big brother!kegeyama walking in on the reader touching themselves .. 😁

notes: a huge thank you to jodie (@keijidearest ) for being my beta, a hundred kisses fo you, muah muah <33

characters: nii-chan!kageyama tobio x reader

genre/warnings: smut, incest, slight voyeurism, mention of dacryphilia, mutual masturbation, corruption kink, slight degradation, breeding kink

words: 2.2k

summary: tobio-nii finally finds out that his adorable little sister feels the same way

As always, your parents weren’t at home—that much was expected. But today, even Tobio would be out until late. You couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest when you walked into your empty husk of a house. It was so lonely ever since your older brother started spending more time on campus, and you had no choice but to comfort yourself the only way you knew how.

The bedroom door didn’t quite close all the way behind you, but you disregarded it, knowing nobody would be home to disrupt you anyways. You flopped onto the bed, and wiggled out of your bottoms, one hand creeping beneath your waistband while the other clutched your phone to browse raunchy sites. Although you took in the obscene videos, racy comics, and filthy erotica, your mind drifted to Tobio, wishing that he’d take the place of the men in all those scenarios, comforting you in person rather than leaving you alone at your time of need. Settling into your blankets, you began taking care of the ache in your core, back arching off the mattress as you slowly worked yourself up to your high. The room gradually filled up with the sounds of your heavy breathing, slick noises of your arousal, and the familiar creak of the bed as you shifted around.

Unbeknownst to you, Tobio was on the other side of the wall, quietly taking care of his own needs, stroking his length to match your rhythm. He seriously lucked out today; he didn’t think he would ever have the opportunity to catch you at a vulnerable moment like this, unsuspectingly letting out your sweet moans for him to hear. When practice got cancelled, he went straight home and took a nap, only to wake up to the sounds of your self-pleasuring. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop on his precious little sister, really. Yet, how could he let this chance pass him by?

As he gripped his cock, your brother felt his balls tighten much quicker than usual. He wasn’t expecting his innocent sister to sound so...so lewd. His orgasm was coaxed on by how slutty you sounded as you moaned, how sopping wet he reckoned you were just through the noise of you fucking yourself. Before long, he felt himself shudder as he shot out his load. Never had he cum so early, the embarrassment enveloping him as he realized what had had him so worked up to begin with. Your soft whines remained in the background as Tobio slumped down and began cleaning himself off.

As his post-orgasmic bliss dissipated, a sense of guilt and disgust grew within him, as though he had violated you himself. He laid an arm over his eyes and exhaled deeply.

A few more seconds passed, and he shamefully emerged from his room, intending to wash up in the bathroom when something made him stop in his tracks.

“N-nii-chan…feels good!”

Erotic fantasies of your brother fuelled your lust while you touched yourself. Instead of your own hands, you imagined that it was his large palms caressing your breasts, and his long fingers stretching you out, loosening your entrance for his thick cock. Your gasps and whimpers grew louder as you gave in to the pleasure, but you didn’t care, chanting your brother’s name as you came.

Lost in a euphoric trance, your eyes remained squeezed shut, allowing him to slip into your room unnoticed.. The moment his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he was captivated by the sight of your limp form splayed out on the bed. His ravenous gaze traveled across the expanses of exposed skin, pausing briefly on the rise and fall of your chest and your spasming pussy. He swallowed before revealing his presence.

“____, was that…my name?”

Upon hearing his voice, your eyes snapped open, and you yelped. Panic welled up inside you as you sprang up and hastily covered yourself.

Thoughts of possible consequences raced through your mind. No more hair ruffles, no more head pats, no more words of praise. He’d no longer swing by your school to treat you to lunch when he was between classes. You could definitely say goodbye to him picking you up from the bus stop after dark.

“Tobio-nii! I- how long have you been standing there?”

Now you’d gone and done it. He must be repulsed by you. No one should have been in the house, nobody should have been there to catch you, so how was this happening?

“Not important. I’d rather talk about how you were just masturbating while thinking about me.”

Blood rushed to his dick as the scene he walked in on replayed in his head, and your cute noises echoed in his mind. His shock quickly shifted into frustration: frustration that he had to conceal his possessiveness when you gave your attention to another boy, frustration that he had to control his urges when you pranced around the house in your ratty drawstring shorts, or that he had to avert his eyes when your nipples poked out from your thin sleepshirt.

Frustration that he had to live through hell hiding his feelings for you when his dear sister was exactly the same way.

“You mean to tell me,” he started, taking calculated steps towards you, “That this entire time we could have been taking care of each other? The fuck did I jerk off in the shower for?”

Huh? You were stunned and relieved, but there was no time for you to hold back your tears. Unable to process what he said, you peered up at him with watery eyes.

Thinking that he frightened you by raising his voice, his eyes widened in alarm. He gathered you into his arms and stroked the back of your head. “Whoa, hey, hey, don’t cry, angel. I didn’t mean to get angry with you; I got too excited back there.”

“No, that’s not it. I-I thought you would hate me, and I didn’t know what to do.”

“I could never hate you, ____. You’re so precious to me that I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else putting their hands on you where mine should be.”

Pulling back, you looked into his eyes for confirmation. “Really? Because I always hated your girlfriends for stealing my place.”

“You’re so cute, but I promise you have nothing to worry about at all. I didn’t want them like I wanted you.” You felt him guide your hands to his groin, where his dick was nearly popping out from his boxers. “Do you feel that? Feel how hard I am? You made me this way.”

Your heart swelled with pride knowing that he loved you more than he did any of those whores, and seeing him so worked up, all for you brought back the familiar tingle between your legs that only your Nii-chan knew how to soothe. Freeing him from his pants, you watched in wonder as his cock stood at attention, leaking precum from the tip. Tobio’s breathing grew heavier from your touch.

“____? Do you think you could do Nii-chan a favour?” His ears reddened in mortification. Despite the fact that he had cum earlier, all he wanted to do was shove his cock into you and fuck you silly. “I got turned on when you were crying,” he groaned and covered his face. “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t react that way, but you’re just so cute.”

On the contrary, you were really happy that he found you so endearing.. “Don’t be sorry, Tobio-nii,” you reassured, shaking your head. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

Tobio kneeled at the foot of your bed and gripped his length, grateful that you were willing to help him out. “Could you remove the blankets and show me your pretty body?”

The idea of baring yourself to him made you flustered. But if it was your brother, asking you so politely for help, you wouldn’t mind displaying your most vulnerable parts. Glancing at his hopeful expression, you peeled back the covers.

“So good, baby. Now open your legs and touch yourself for me.”

Again, you bashfully complied, spreading yourself and angling your hips to give him a better view. The way he watched you made you searing hot; he gazed at you with lust blown pupils, eyeing you like a starved wolf as he fisted his cock.

You were fixated on his dick, curiously observing the rosy colour of the tip, the slender shaft, the slight curvature upwards, and the vein running down the middle. It was the first time you’d seen one. Heat pooled in your centre when you thought about taking him in your mouth.

“Nii-chan? Can I try sucking you off?”

“What?” he panted. “You don’t—ah, fuck—have to. I can’t make you do that.”

Leaning forward on your hands, you stared at him in earnest. “I want to.”

His face scrunched up as he weighed his options, but a quick glance at your glossy plump lips was all he needed to succumb.

After he agreed, you held him gently, noting how your hand barely wrapped around the girth of it, and how it felt so much thicker and heavier than it looked.Experimentally, you eagerly licked the sides, lapping at the precum that dribbled down his length, then you wrapped your lips around him. Paying close attention to his instructions, you gingerly massaged his balls and inched him further down your throat. “Yes, yes just like that. Now swallow.”

He tugged at your hair, pushing himself deeper, alternating between looking down at you, and closing his eyes in ecstasy. Your jaw was sore, and your throat was starting to burn, but you couldn’t help but moan at the disheveled state he was reduced to. Your cunt clenched around nothing, pulsating with desire.

Tobio’s eyebrows knitted together, loving the sight of you gagging on his dick. He’d always dreamed of defiling you like this; he felt so dirty, but so good.

“Shit, you’re making your Tobio-nii feel so amazing. I’m gonna cum soon.”

You desperately longed for him to cum on your tongue, but even more than that, you wanted him to alleviate your aching core, so you reluctantly pulled your lips off of him. “Mm, wait! Not yet.” You spread your lower lips apart, looking at him with need. “Please. In here.”

Tobio regarded your fucked out expression and your dripping hole, deciding to satisfy you against his better judgement. His cute sister was begging so sweetly for him, so how could he deny your request? Besides, he wanted it just as badly.

“Yeah? You’re gonna give your virginity to Nii-chan? Gonna let your big brother fuck his seed deep into your slutty pussy?”

His filthy words caused you to shiver, yet, he was soothing and gentle as he slipped his cock inside, pushing the head in little by little, pausing until you were ready for more. He moved only the tip back and forth, parting your opening, coating his dick with your juices.

The stretch hurt a little as he inched in deeper, but there was no one other than your beloved Nii-chan you’d rather lose your virginity to. You knew he respected you enough that you could even call it off there, and he would stop without any questions. There was no doubt that he would treat you better than anyone else you could’ve had your first time with.

When you finally nodded to him, he eased in the rest of his length, and he sucked in a breath when your cunt squelched, accepting him in hungrily. He waited a few more seconds before thrusting slowly. Once you gave him the okay, he increased the pace steadily until he was slamming his cock in and out.

His cock reached places inside you that you were never able to reach with your fingers, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. You felt so full, so complete.

Tobio nearly spilled into you when he directed his gaze to the spot where the two of you were connected. Your cunt squeezed him like it didn’t want him to pull out and painted him in a creamy white substance. He was addicted to seeing you losing yourself on his dick as he split you open.

Pressing on the back of your thighs, he pushed you deeper into the mattress and shoved his length even deeper. Your brother enjoyed the feeling of corrupting you, wiping you clean of every man that came before him and ruining you for every man that would come after him. That is, if you would ever want another man after he’d had his way with you.

Feeling your pussy tighten, he slid a hand between your bodies and grinded the heel of his palm against your nub, forcing an orgasm out of you, and spurted his viscous cum inside. He pumped his cock a few more times before pulling out, admiring his handiwork when his cum leaked out from your convulsing hole. Rather than let it drip onto the sheets, he lifted your pelvis to place a pillow underneath, then collected his release with his fingers, only to push it deep inside you again. Contently, he plugged you back up with his cock, brushed some hair out of your face, and pecked you tenderly on the forehead.

You laid there, basking in each other’s warmth, filling the void in each other’s heart.

Tobio nosed the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply. “Mine.”

a/n: well, well, well... tobio-nii makes a comeback

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu dark content #kageyama smut #kageyama tobio smut #kageyama x reader #cw:incest #kageyama tobio x reader #hq smut #haikyuu x reader #jia writes

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korasonata · 3 years

Text

So, I know it’s not model stream day but I had a bunch of leftover quotes that I cut from the original Joe and Cleo model stream posts due to length. Was originally planning to compile them all together and make a larger master post when they finished the castle, but the list was getting a bit long so decided to do it in parts instead 😅 So here we have all of the other moments I greatly enjoyed that got cut from the first few posts.

—

STREAM 1

—

Cleo: See I can cut straight! But if anyone asks you from the police, I can’t. You didn’t see anything.

—

Cleo: I’m feeling very put out by my chat at this point, because it’s just sort of like “are you sure you didn’t screw up?” No I’m sure I didn’t screw up, leave me alone! Oh…..

SILENCE…

Cleo: …I might have screw-…

SILENCE

—

Cleo: I love it when Joe goes silent, cause you know he’s having a meltdown. And that’s quite funny.

—

Cleo (in response to Joe explaining the use of “Moshi Moshi”): It’s Joe. I don’t know if Joe lies or tells the truth on any given day. But I’m assuming this is correct.

Joe: People are saying “but what if Joe’s a fox?” Well that’s why I said Moshi Moshi! See? And I didn’t go away.

Cleo: I- I’m a fox…I can’t say it….It’s fine…

Joe: Yeah, that’s ok.

—

STREAM 2

—

Cleo: is that Cleo’s hands? No. They’re an imaginary persons hands.

Joe: it depends if you’re watching my stream or Cleo’s.

Cleo: I mean that helps.

Joe: if you’re watching my stream, it’s my hands.

Cleo: if you’re watching Joes stream it’s probably Joes hands. If you’re watching my stream, it’s probably an alien entity.

—

Joe: we actually got a super posh nail salon near me now, and so I was kind of thinking like “oh I should- I should go there and get the green- the chroma green nails before I do this.”

Cleo: oh god Joe.

—

Cleo: This here is a map of what the things should be. What the heck is part 10? I’ve got to find par-

SILENCE

Cleo: ok well I found where part 10 is.

—

Joe: Cleo’s going to have plenty of time to catch up, don’t worry.

Cleo: Catch up from the leading position that I already had.

Joe: Yeah. Well, but to make up for any lost time that you’re currently antago- or not antagonizing. Agonizing over. I’ll know when your antagonizing.

Cleo: Oh yea-you will know when I’m antagonizing.

—

Joe (reading chat) : “How do you determine the limits of Cleo’s patience?” Uh, “are they redefined every time you test them?” Ummm…

Cleo: *laughing* interesting question Joe. I’d like to hear your answer to this.

—

Cleo (about Joes model): it’s very small. We’re not comparing size though.

—

Cleo (reading chat): both Bdubs and Joe have small castles *laughing* We’re not gonna talk about Bdubs’ small castle.

—

Joe: My beard keeps brushing the ringlight which the camera is attached to, so I’m worried it’s vibrating the camera when my beard hits it. And it’s tickling my chin. Which is very very strange.

Cleo: *snort laughing*

Joe: *laughing* Cause normally no one tickles my chin during a stream.

Cleo: *still laughing* It’s not a common thing.

Joe: No, we don’t have like a reward tear for that with channel redemption.

—

Joe (talking about cutting his beard): maybe I should just go trim this one part so I’m not bumping the camera.

Cleo: I- I… I mean, if you wanted to do that on stream I would not- (trails off)

Joe: Oh, you- oh! I guess I can get a mirror out, hold on. I’ve got a mirror, so let me see.

—

Cleo: you know what Joe? I don’t know.

Joe: That’s ok Cleo. I don’t know either. That’s what makes us a good team. Mutual ignorance!

Cleo: CLUELESS!! CLUELESSNESS!!

—

Cleo (about Xisuma and Pearl): We don’t bully each other. Cause I’m always right. That’s how it works.

Joe: Mhm.

Cleo: …the way you said “mhm” Joe made it sound like you don’t think I’m always right.

—

Cleo: To be fair, I do quite like the model making.

Joe: Yeah, other than the fact that it’s like really stressful, it’s really relaxing!

—

Joe (doing a face camera expansion): “EXPAND JOE!” Do do do do!

Cleo (singing the Adams Family): Do do do do!

Both (in harmony): Do do do do!

Cleo: Do do do do! Do do do do!

Joe: *click click*

—

Joe (explaining about his Gomez Adams suit): I went to a tailor in another city.

Cleo: And you just went “Give me the suit that Gomez Adams wears!”

Joe: No! I looked at all the suits and then selected the one that Gomez Adams wears!

—

Cleo: Ghostbusters! *laughing* Don’t bust the ghosts, they’re just trying to make a living guys. Do you know how hard ectoplasm is to get?

—

Joe: Well, but like, for example, if you think about how much CO2 we waste on air conditioning every year, and the fact that people feel a chill when they like, walk through a ghost. You could just have like a- a big ghost that like walks around with you inside of it. As like an air conditioning suit.

Cleo: I don’t- I don’t want any ghost inside of me? Just…saying?

Joe: I mean I guess technically you’d be inside of it, but like…

Cleo: I’m not sure if that makes it worse or better.

—

Cleo (reading chat): “Is the crying to make the paper more supple?” No. The crying is to make us more willing to accept our life choices. That have lead us here.

—

Cleo (in distress): NO! Why would you do that?! WHY?! Why?! Why? Why. Why?!!!

Joe: What happened? Your cat do something?

Cleo: No no no. This is the roof. The roof has decided to not. And now I am deciding to not with the roof!

—

Cleo: Sorry, I’m just trying to keep things together.

Joe: Keep it together, Cleo! Keep it together!

Cleo: I mean, some one of us- one of us has got to.

Joe (desperate): One of us has got to keep it together Cleo, and it’s you! There’s no way the one keeping it together is me!

Cleo: *uncontrollable laughing*

Joe: Sobbing intensifies!

Cleo: Everything hurts and nothing is ok!

Joe (deeply distressed): It’s fine!

—

Joe: At my previous jobs, I would tell them that I don’t want this job. I don’t want this career. I’m good at this technical stuff that you need, and can do it at a price that you can afford. But my priority is being able to drop off my kid at daycare and pick her up at daycare. Everyday. I- My- my then wife will never be available to take care of that child because she’s a PHD student. If the kid is sick, I am taking the day off to take care of her. If you don’t like it? You can find somebody else.

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #zombiecleo #zombie cleo #joehills #joe hills

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sorryjustafangirl · 3 years

Text

seattle worries

a/n: it was about time i wrote for the toothless love of our lives mr erik johnson. im still mad at him for waiving his nmc even though people saw it coming so i wrote this while at work and because im in a slump. enjoy. gender neutral reader

pairing: erik johnson x reader

word count: 1.5k+

warnings: mentions of pandemic, a few swears, expansion draft

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and real person fiction if you don’t like that, please don’t read! this lovely gif is not mine! credit to the wonderful gif-maker

You and Erik had been dating for about 2 years now and things could not have been better. The two of you had been set up by a mutual friend after the Avalanche were eliminated from playoff contention. EJ was a natural charmer and swept you off your feet, despite any nerves he felt that night.

Then a pandemic hit and Erik decided that you should move in. In case we have to repopulate the Earth, you know, he joked, but he was serious about his proposition. Your friends all gave you skepticism when you accepted; after all, you were moving in with a man, a professional athlete at that, after less than a year of dating. But you knew it was the right decision. Even when Erik went to the Edmonton bubble, you never felt lonely because you were in the space you shared with him, the space you knew he’d come back to.

Now, a year later and your relationship had been through injuries, an infectious disease, and hectic NHL life. You honestly thought nothing could break you.

Until now.

You were seething. How couldn’t he have told you? Sure, he could be a dumbass sometimes but he’d have to be a whole ‘nother kind of stupid to think you wouldn’t find out.

The thud of his hockey bag and the clang of his keys hitting the trinket dish on the hall table shook you from your thoughts. He walked into the kitchen, where you stood with your hands gripping the counter, with a smile on his face that quickly disappeared when he saw the scowl on your face.

“Hey baby…” His voice was hesitant, obviously testing the waters.

“How could you not tell me?” Your eyes were set, your jaw hard, and you could feel the tension in your shoulders. He sighed but didn’t say anything. “How could you not tell me you waived your no movement clause Erik? I found out from fucking SportsNet!”

“Look, I was going to tell you-”

“When?! You couldn’t find a good time to talk about how you might throw away your life here in the past two months?!”

“That’s not fair! No one ever said anything about throwing my life here away.” His voice raised but you didn’t back down, not with the way your cheeks were hot with anger.

“Oh, so you just expect me to drop my life here to go live in Seattle? Because your career is more important than mine?”

“I never said that! God, I hate it when you put words in my mouth!”

“Well, I hate it when my boyfriend doesn’t consult me on something that affects us both!”

“Why are you so angry about this? Nothing’s happened yet, they might not even take me!”

You scoffed at him, but it came out breathy because of the tears welling in your eyes. “I’m upset because it feels like you aren’t even considering us in your career. Like you don’t care how this affects me too. Like you don’t even notice you’re throwing us away.” Your voice cracked at the end, tears falling from your eyes. You turned away from Erik in an attempt to hide your emotions but he knew. He knew from the way you hunched your shoulders and the way you shut your eyes, you were crying.

Slowly, he came towards you, his step gentle. His arms around you were like glass until you clung to his shirt; then they became like a warm blanket- all encompassing and familiar. Sobs racked through your body and he traced his hand up and down your back. He placed a kiss on the top of your head lightly before smoothing your hair, trying to soothe you. When you finally calmed down, with only hiccups left, he took your face in his hands, wiping away the tear stains off your cheeks.

“Who said anything about me throwing us away? Hmm?” He spoke softly as if he was trying not to frighten a calf. When you didn’t answer him or meet his eyes, he bent down to your level, meeting your weary eyes and repeated his question. When you stayed silent, he kissed your forehead before placing his own against yours.

“I’m not throwing us away, okay? I’m not. Even if you think I am, I promise you I’m not. You’re stuck with me, okay? You got it? I’m not leaving you,”

“But what if Seattle-”

“If. If, baby. It’s not set in stone, it’s an if. A possibility. Joe doesn’t even think they’ll take me. Waiving my contract meant they could protect another D. I haven’t played in practically a season, Seattle probably won’t want me.”

“Probably. Meaning there’s a chance they do want you,”

“There’s also a chance I get hit with a car tomorrow, or that it starts snowing in July.” When that didn’t crack a smile from you, he sighed. “I don’t know what’s going to happen and I wish I did and I wish I could guarantee I stay here but I can’t. But I can guarantee that I’m not giving up on us, even if I go somewhere else,” He ended with a soft smile but furrowed his eyebrows when he saw your eyes go hard again.

“So you’d still expect me to go with you then?” You broke away from his embrace. “To pack up everything I’ve ever known just because you waived your contract?” You shook your head and started off towards your bedroom.

“What, no! No! Baby, c’mon,” He grabbed your hand and turned you to face him. “I don’t expect you to change your whole life for me. I know your job and your friends and your life here is important to you. But I do expect you to have a little bit more faith in me, in us, that we’d figure it out.” He sighed again and dropped your hand to run his hands through his hair.

“Look, hypothetically, hypothetically, if Seattle took me, I only have a year left on my contract. After that, I can decide where I want to go. So it’d be one year, not even, just one season where we’d have to do long distance if you don’t want to move. We could do that. I know we could. And… I’m not as young as I used to be. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to play. And so when that day comes, I can be wherever you are. I don’t care if it’s Milwaukee, Hawaii, Seattle, or here. I want to be wherever you are, even if it means we do 8 months apart. I’ll do 8 months apart if it means the rest of our lives together.”

The two of you stood there in the hallway, silent, contemplating what was said. Even though you had lived together for a year now, this was your first major fight. And your first real glimpse into your future. Sure, you’d mentioned in passing getting a dog or a house with an acreage for his horses, but it was all in passing. EJ was a joker and although he makes you laugh like no other, he isn’t the kind of guy to get serious too often.

“You want forever with me?”

“Fuck yeah, baby. You’re it for me. And you have for a while now.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me you were waiving your clause?” You were pleading with him at this point, your eyes searching his for any sort of answer.

“I didn’t want you to freak out, which based on tonight, was fair enough on my end. And seriously, Joe doesn’t think they’ll take me. I’m old and injury prone. But Sammy isn’t. And we need Sammy. It was for the good of the team. And if I told you, you would’ve tried to talk me out of it.” He shrugged. “But I’d already made up my mind.” He reached out to take your hands again, his thumbs rubbing your thumb knuckles. “It wasn’t against you. I didn’t tell anyone I was waiving it until it was done,” You were silent as he continued to caress your hands.

“I want forever with you too, you know?”

His eyes sifted and his signature goofy grin made its way into his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You looked up at him and squeezed his hands. “Even when you’re being stupid and leave me in the dark,”

“Well then I’m a very lucky man,” He pressed his lips to your cheek in a sloppy kiss which pulled a smile from you. His smile grew wider in triumph. “There’s the smile I know and love. C’mon, let’s go to bed, yeah?” You nodded and kept your hands intertwined as he led you to the bedroom. The two of you slowly got ready for bed, EJ slipping under the covers first. He opened the blanket for you, and you turned off the light before finding you spot cuddled into his side, your head resting on his chest. His hand ran over your hair, whether to soothe you or him, you weren’t sure.

“I love you. And nothing, not even Seattle, will ever change that.” He whispered into the dark room.

“I know.” You pressed a light kiss to his chest and laid your head back down. “I love you too.”

“Whatever happens, it’s me and you babe. I promise.” He kissed the top of your head and slowly you both fell asleep, his promise of the future lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

let me know what you think! thanks for reading!

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#erik johnson #erik johnson imagine #nhl imagine #erik johnson fic #nhl fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl x reader #hockey imagine #hockey fic #abby writes

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hongism · 4 years

Text

belated - c.san (ft. jwy) 18+

↦ pairing: san x reader (ft slight san x reader x wooyoung) ↦ genre: pwp, smut, 18+, non idol au, friends with benefits au ↦ wc: 2.8k ↦ summary: san feels guilty for missing out on wooyoung’s birthday dinner, so he enlists your help in creating the perfect present for wooyoung as a belated gift | part 2 out now ↦ warnings: explicit smut, oral sex: f + m, fingering, filmed sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism mention, subspace mention, dirty talk, cum eating/swallowing, unprotected sex

“And you’re sure this is a good idea?” It’s a bit late for you to be backing out at this point; you and San have both completely stripped to be as naked as the day you were born, and San is fiddling with the tripod near the edge of the bed. He’ll start recording soon, though that isn’t the thing you’re hesitant about. You are more hesitant about San’s promise that Wooyoung will even like this. While you have entertained the thought of fucking Wooyoung on occasion – it’s not like he didn’t get the fucking best genes in the universe alongside San – you never thought that the feeling would be mutual or that he would ever see you in such a light. The two of you have a strictly neutral friendship through San: both having met the man at school and thus become friends through him being your mutual friend. You don’t think it to be the most extreme or strange thing to happen, but still, that doesn’t lessen your surprise the moment San asked if you would be okay with the offer.

Your relationship with San is far different from Wooyoung’s mainly due to the fact that you and San fuck frequently with no strings attached, and as far as you’re aware Wooyoung and San don’t do that in their spare time. Thus you had no issue agreeing with San’s suggestion, which has led you to this beautiful standstill with San’s toned and lean body on full display before you. You must be too enamored by San’s body before you to pay any attention to what he’s saying because moments later, his fingers come before your eyes and snap several times to pull your focus back.

“Hm?”

“I said I’m certain this is a good idea. Wooyoung has entertained the thought of you – well us, for that matter – many times, and he’s admitted it to my face. I’m positive that he’ll love the present.” San brings a finger under your chin and lifts your head a bit so that you can look him in the eye. “Besides you look so fucking gorgeous with my cock in you that I’d have a hard time believing he wouldn’t like it.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you grumble as you try to fight off the sudden surge of embarrassment rushing up your neck and face. San clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“That’s what I plan to do to you, sweetheart. Not the other way around.”

“Well hurry it along then.”

San only huffs out a laugh in response this time, but he steps away from where you’re perched on the foot of the bed to go fiddle with the camcorder a bit more. Seconds later, a small red light starts flashing at the edge of your vision, and you do your best not to stare directly at it as San walks back to you. He pushes your thighs open with his knees, slotting himself between your legs with ease, and leans over you to press a wet, open-mouthed kiss to your lips. You greet him like it’s second nature, and it practically is with the amount of times the two of you have done this. The only difference now is that there’s a camera present with you two, but as San’s tongue pushes into your wet cavern, you find yourself quickly forgetting that it’s there.

“Wanna give him a good show,” San murmurs, slipping away from you and leaving a thin strand of saliva between your lips.

Before you know it, he has dropped to his knees before you. His hands roam the expanse of your thighs, caressing the soft skin under his fingers, and he spreads you wider open with little resistance on your part. Two fingers sneak further upward and drag over the front of your folds. A bit of wetness has already pooled there, enough to make your core glisten as San pushes your lips open and exposes it to the camera. He’s managed to find the perfect angle to capture the action for the time being, but you know that will quickly change as the two of you lose yourselves in the arousal and sex-driven high. You drape a leg over one of San’s shoulders and lean back on one hand. The other finds purchase in San’s dark hair, combing through the soft locks as he presses closer to your heat. He greets your folds with a single, tentative lick at first, and the instant arch of your back under his tough encourages him to repeat the motion.

“Look at the camera,” San commands in a soft tone. The words aren’t loud enough to reverberate against your cunt, but it is enough to cause your arousal to heighten, and you don’t waste any time in obeying the command. “Don’t even think about keeping quiet. I want Wooyoung to hear every last sound that comes from your lips.”

You offer a quick and shaky nod, glancing down at San only once before bringing your gaze back up to the camera. San’s tongue finds your folds again – this time with more force than before – and you keen under his touch, a small moan ripping from your mouth before you can stop it. Your first instinct is to reach up and clap a hand over your mouth, but San hisses against your clit. It’s a warning, and you recognize it as one in an instant, pulling your hand back down to his hair with a bit of hesitation. His deft muscle teases your hole a few times before circling back up to flick over the bead of your clit. Even the slightest touch has you gasping under him, and his hands pressing down hard on your thighs are the only things keeping you firmly planted to the bed, otherwise you would be bucking your hips up into his tongue. It doesn’t keep you from begging for more. It should be shameful how desperate you are for more of his touch already, but the feel of his smooth tongue running over your folds is too good to be thinking about shame right now.

The next sound to fall from your lips is merely a whimper, and it comes out when San sets two fingers against your tight hole. He doesn’t even have to push them in for you to moan. It’s lewd and resonates through the quiet room, accompanied by the dry chuckle that falls from San’s lips, and this time, the sound sends vibrations across your clit. You writhe under his touch, and your elbow buckles under you. You slip backwards, tugging a bit too hard at San’s hair, and he groans from the sharp pull at his locks.

“Fuck, baby girl, if you keep that up, I won’t be able to finish the foreplay like I want to,” San hums. You offer another tug to his hair – an action more meant to tease him than anything else – and San responds by plunging a single finger into your hole. A gasp leaves you at the sudden stretch, which quickly breaks into a drawn-out moan as San sucks gently at your clit. You can’t keep yourself up any longer thanks to the sensation, and moments later, your back hits the mattress with a soft thud. “If you aren’t gonna look at the camera, then you had better tell Wooyoung how much you wish it was his tongue on you and not mine.”

“San,” you whimper, a bit breathless already. San slips a second finger into your tight heat rather than responding with words, and you squirm under the touch, hand tightening around the hair close to his scalp.

“Wrong name, sweetheart,” he teases back after a few seconds of terse silence. You nearly roll your eyes but a third finger pushes in beside the other two in you, and you see stars in the edges of your vision. “Whose fingers do you want in you, hm?”

“Woo – oh shit, Wooyoung’s!” You cry out, thighs squeezing together as San’s fingers brush over your sweet spot.

“And what do you want him to do to you?” San is straight-up taunting you now, and if you weren’t so full of pent-up arousal, you would probably kick him for being such a brat at the moment.

“W-Want his cock, I want it so bad.”

“That’s not good enough, baby.” San curls his fingers further, robbing you of the tantalizing sensation in mere seconds, and you whine in protest. You know that it won’t get you anywhere and he fully expects you to follow his orders like you always do, and once glance down at his face between your thighs pushes you further into that sweet headspace you love to be in while he’s fucking you. It doesn’t send you all the way there yet though, but it does cause you to beg.

“I want Wooyoung to f-fuck me hard. I want him to fuck me until I forget my name, I need his cock in me so badly. Just need to be f-filled up and – and fucked into the mattress, please.”

“There we go,” San coos while slipping his fingers out of the tight warmth of your cunt. “Such a good little girl for Wooyoung, aren’t you? Such a shame he can’t be here to give you that now.” San pushes himself up, one hand lingering at your hip and the other that was just between your legs sneaking up to your lips. You take the wet fingers between your lips without waiting to be told, and the taste of your juices on his digits has your body burning with shame. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll fill you up for him. On one condition—” San stretches his fingers in your mouth, spreading your lips wider as your tongue laps over him “—you have to call out his name instead of mine. And if you mess up, then I’ll stop fucking you.” He retracts his hand from your mouth, and you immediately try protesting to his demands once you can speak freely.

“S-San, no, pl-please—”

“No.”

It’s only one word but it hits harder than anything he’s said before tonight, and you sink your teeth into your lip.

“Will you do as told?”

“Yes… y-yes, I will,” you agree quickly, trying to shroud your face from the camera in your shame. San catches hold of your chin and pulls you forward once more.

“There’s a good girl. I’m proud of you, sweetheart.” He speaks the words with just enough softness and affection to have you preening under him. His cock brushes through your folds, teasing your hole a few times before he properly aligns himself and sinks into you with a shaky sigh.

“O-Oh, fuck, San,” you moan out before you can stop yourself. San’s member disappears from your heat quicker than you can process it, and you blink dumbly at the man above you in disbelief.

“Get it right, baby girl. You know whose name to say.”

“Wooyoung,” you mumble, walls clenching around nothing as you remember who and what this is for. San pushes back into you halfway this time, dick rubbing pleasurably against your slick walls, and you have to bite your tongue to keep from calling out his name again. You only release your tongue once he has bottomed out in you. He pauses there to let you adjust to the stretch of his member, chest heaving in an unbalanced rhythm as he tries to catch his breath. “Fuck me, pl-please, fuck me already.”

Your hands claw desperately at San’s shoulders in attempts to bring him closer to you, but San stays upright, fingers digging sharp crescents into your hips as he pulls out about halfway. His next thrust is so sharp that you feel your whole body slide backward on the bed, a startled moan breaking through your lips, and your hands fall uselessly by your sides. It’s with frantic grasps that you grab for the comforter, and all coherent thought leaves your mind as San begins to fuck into you at an increased rhythm.

“Sa–Wooyoung. W-Woo, pl-please,” you beg to the thin air above you, barely able to get the right name out in the haze of your pleasure. San chuckles above you. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the air along with the grossly lewd noises coming from your cunt as San thrusts into you. You can hardly think about that though, too focused on chasing your pleasure. Then all of a sudden, San slips a hand from your hip to your cunt, and he drags the pad of his thumb over your clit in small circles. “Fuck, gonna cum, please, I can’t – I can’t—”

You can’t even finish the sentence thanks to the mind-blowing sensation. San continues his staggered motions, tugging you closer to his body and holding you as close as possible as he approaches his high as well. He must not be expecting you to cum so quickly though because when you do cry out and squeeze hard around his member, walls pulsing as the orgasm ripples through your body, he releases a surprised grunt. His hand returns to your hip so that he can properly fuck you through your orgasm, but he doesn’t opt to cum yet. Instead, he slips out of your fluttering hole and pulls you forward until you’re forced to slip off the edge of the bed. The carpet is rough under your knees but you aren’t in a mindset to complain about it, still a bit dazed from the pleasure.

“Where do you want it, sweetheart?” San grunts the words out, hand jerking over his slick cock, and you brace yourself on his thighs. You don’t reply verbally, but the way you stick your tongue out and blink up at him through batted eyelashes is enough of an answer. Within seconds, hot ropes of cum spurt from the tip of his cock, lacing your face and tongue with his seed. You flinch under the suddenness of the action. With eyes squeezed tightly shut, you wait for San to finish milking his cum out onto your face.

What you aren’t expecting, however, is the sudden touch of his lips against yours, cum intermingling between your mouths and dancing over your tongues as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. You greet him with a pleased moan and dig your fingernails deeper into his thighs just to draw one last moan out of him before you’re satisfied. When San pulls back, there’s still a hefty layer of cum on your face, but he doesn’t let you clean up the mess yet, telling you to hold on a second. All you can hear is him shifting things a few feet away, then the heat of his presence returns to you.

“Show off for Woo, baby girl. Show him how pretty you look covered in cum like this.” Even though you can’t see San, you’re certain that he is dangling the camera in front of your face right now, and that thought alone causes you to stick your tongue out again and display the full extent of San’s cum on you. Fingers brush your cheek, collecting a few beads of cum before bringing them to your mouth and fucking the digits into your wet cavern. Once he’s satisfied with the amount of cum he’s pushed between your lips, he pulls back to examine his work. “Open your eyes.”

You do as told in a second, eyes fluttering as you make immediate eye contact with the camcorder.

“Now wish Woo a happy birthday, sweetheart,” San coos from behind the camera. You can barely make out the twisted smile playing at his lips.

“Happy birthday, Wooyoung,” you say, voice a bit raspy from the burn of the cum in your mouth and throat.

“And tell him that you hope he can join us next time.”

“I… I hope you can join us next time,” you repeat. A smile overtakes your lips at the pride in San’s expression. He doesn’t say anything else, fiddling a bit with the camera, and the red light stops flickering after a few seconds. “Is that all?”

“That’s it, baby girl,” San hums in response. “You did so well for him.” His thumb finds your chin once more, caressing the skin under a calloused finger. “I’ll get a rag, and we can get you cleaned up. Then we can send him the video and wait anxiously for his response. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” you murmur back, eyes falling shut as San presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “I can’t wait to see his reaction.”

“Neither can I,” San chuckles before stepping away from you to head for the bathroom. “Neither can I.”

...

↦ a/n: part 2 anyone? jkjkjk unless? okay but also it’s been awhile since i’ve written something like this so i hope you guys enjoy pls let me know what you think also this was written and prepared before my break so please continue to be patient with me as i work on coming back and spending time away to recover and heal!!

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nanami-says · 4 years

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Part V (2/3): chapters 58~60

Chapter 58

[About Sukuna’s fingers resonating with one another]

"The ones that possess an immense presence. The ones that are hiding. The ones that are already taken in by cursed spirits."

⇒ "1) The ones with too big presences. 2) The ones holding their breath. 3) The ones already absorbed by cursed spirits."

I added the numbers for explanation purposes, see below.

"One of Sukuna's fingers was hidden by a cursed spirit. When Itadori consumed the finger in June, it released its cursed energy"

⇒ "The Sukuna fingers that had been absorbed were holding back their power [while] inside cursed spirits. Then they unleashed their cursed energy with Itadori's incarnation [of Sukuna] in June serving as a trigger."

Whelp. On top of extremely simplifying the explanation, they mixed up the kind of Sukuna finger involved here - it was very explicitly stated in the text that it was number 3) "absorbed" (assimilated) fingers, and not 2) "hiding" fingers.

I guess saying that Itadori consumed the finger isn't wrong plot wise but it's actually referred to (here and many times more in the manga) as "incarnation"! The same word also gets used for the death painting brothers.

[Megumi remembering a conversation with Gojou]

"I was surprised you asked me to train you"

⇒ "It's rare for you to ask me for a practice, Megumi"

"To train you" wasn't wrong but Gojou saying "it's rare" here points to it either happening occasionally or having happened in the past and I'm not sure "I was surprised" quite conveys that.

"Are you feeling pressure because of Yuji's growth?"

⇒ "Did you get impatient after getting surpassed by Yuuji?"

Gojou actually says that Yuuji has surpassed Megumi here! Quite a different nuance from just "Yuji's growth".

"Megumi, your skill and potential are probably higher than Yuji's. All that’s left is the mental aspect"

⇒ “You know, Megumi, I think that both your real ability and potential are in no way inferior to Yuuji's. (...)"

Emphasis mine because pray tell, how does one reach the conclusion that "don't lose out to"/"aren't inferior to" equals to "are probably higher". “Skill” was fine btw but I’d probably go with “mindset” for the last line, personally.

[Gojou explaining why he thinks Megumi doesn’t know how to make a serious effort giving the baseball game as an example]

“Why did you bunt? You sacrificed yourself so that Nobara could advance. Well, good for you"

⇒ "Why did you make a sacrifice bunt? Did you want to advance Nobara to the next base even if it meant you'd be out yourself? That's commendable"

The nuance for the last line was just different - the word used there usually is just used as praise, either genuine or ironic but imo “good for you” has a different meaning. Also he says “out” but it’s written as “death” (although that is sometimes the case in baseball as well.)

“But no matter how many allies you have around you, you'll always die alone"

⇒ “(...) when you die, you’re alone”

I tried to phrase it a bit closer to the original because I feel like the nuance may just be different for this line but can’t quite put a finger on the how.

[Gojou to Megumi]

"To die and then win, and dying victoriously are two completely different things, Megumi"

⇒ "To win by dying and to win even if you die are completely different, Megumi"

Emphasis by Gege. Ngl, I had no clue what the English was trying to say here… This is most likely what the line actually meant.

[Megumi regaining his consciousness after he blacked out from getting hit]

"How long was I out? Was my divine dog destroyed? No, my technique's finished"

Actually "my technique got undone". Putting it as "has finished" is imo both unclear and misleading. Similar situation as in ch. 1 (refer to part I).

[Lead-up to Megumi using a domain expansion for the first time]

"A jujutsu sorcerer's growth never comes easy"

⇒ "The growth curve of a sorcerer isn’t always gentle"

Mostly, the line was more intricate in the original but also the grammatical construction used here that they mistranslated as "never" actually means "not always [necessarily]” instead.

"Here we go!!"

Not really incorrect but it's kinda generic and I guess something like "I'm gonna do it!" is closer nuance wise.

"With a firm base, skill and imagination, a person can change thanks to the slightest of events"

⇒ "A firm foundation, a handful of sense, and imagination. Then, [even] with a most insignificant opportunity, a person will change"

A pity they simplified "a handful of sense" into just "skill" here. Overall not really incorrect but I wanted to propose something that imo better conveys the original wording and vibe.

“Area expansion”

…”area”? What? Obviously this is actually “domain expansion”. I just don’t have words.

“Think bigger! My technique’s interpretation!”

First sentence actually referred to the second one, so it’s actually something like “Expand it!! The technique’s interpretation!!”

[Megumi to the cursed spirit after his shikigami deals it a finishing blow]

"Divine dog's claws even hurt it...You were no match!"

"(...) So something like piercing through you when you're not even paying attention was easy"

Less excitement, more dismissiveness, I’d say? Also, for the divine dog it’s actually specified that it’s “divine dog (totality)” and not just simply “divine dog”. The term appeared before in ch. 47.

Chapter 59

[Megumi talking about what he considers the basic rule for human interactions in a flashback to his middle school years]

"Basically, you shouldn't cross any line that violates another person's dignity. You should acknowledge each other's mutual existence. That's the rule. You ignored it and fed your stupid ego"

⇒ "In short, it's drawing a line in order not to jeopardise one another's dignity; [it’s] a process through which both parties can coexist. That's what the "rule" is”. You broke it, throwing your weight around and forcing everyone to walk on eggshells around you”

For the first sentence, Megumi says “it’s drawing a line”, so the nuance here was probably closer to “creating boundaries” rather than “crossing boundaries” like in the official English release. For the second sentence, the original literally says “the process through which one another’s existence is achieved”, so rather than acknowledging each other’s existence the sentiment is probably closer to live and let live? For the last sentence, they once again simplified it to the barest bones.

"I'll definitely tell Ikezawa and everyone today that we're not their lapdogs"

“You got this, Aida!”

"But we might be the next punching bags, so don't go overboard!"

Should be “Ikezawa and others'' and definitely “that I’m not their errand boy” for the smallest boy’s first line. If all of them were already being treated as errand boys like the way using the plural form here implies, the other student’s reply wouldn’t make sense.

[After Tsumiki sees Megumi has beaten up delinquents once again]

“You said you wouldn’t pick fights anymore”

“You’re not my mom”

⇒ (...) “Don’t act like you’re my guardian”

Imo the distinction is significant because there’s a possibility that Tsumiki as the older of the two probably did feel responsible for Megumi to an extent and acted accordingly, as if she was his guardian.

Also, he doesn’t actually say “mom” - this is not the first time where the official English release opts for a gendered phrase where the original uses a neutral form. (Like making Yuuji say his grandpa was like a dad to him when he actually said parent all the way back in ch. 2.)

[Megumi’s thoughts from back in the middle school]

"I hate bad guys with no brains and zero emotional capability. Walking around feeling proud. Disgusting."

⇒ "I hate bad people. The way they act like they’re superior, with their complete lack of imagination or sensitivity. Disgusting”

I guess I really dislike the way they worded it here, especially the “no brains” part since Megumi wasn’t really talking about intellect or smarts here but about imagination (and sensitivity), which he literally describes as being akin to "vacant lot", "empty lot", "raw land”, which is much more evocative.

"I hate goody-goodies forgiving bad people, justifying mercy. Makes me wanna puke"

⇒ "I hate good people. The way they forgive such bad people and perceive that act of forgiveness as something noble. They make me sick"

Mhm, way to just simplify the heck out of the whole line. I’m extra bothered by their use of “goody-goodies” here since this is yet another appearance of a rather formal word for “good person” (善人/zennin) in the original and which I’ve observed to be a very important part of the world-building in jjk. I discuss it at length in various previous installments, with notable examples including: ch. 9 (Megumi about Yuuji and about the kind of people he wants to save - part I), ch. 31 (Nanami and Yuuji’s conversation in the aftermath of the Junpei incident - part III 2/2), ch. 36 (Panda about Yuuji - part IV 2/5).

“Tsumiki, you’re a perfect example of a good person.”

See, the word he uses here to describe Tsumiki is the same as in the line above (善人) but because back then it got translated as “goody-goodies”, you’d never guess it since the vibes are just that different.

[Megumi reminiscing about meeting Gojou for the first time]

"In the first grade, my dad and Tsumiki's mom got married and separated just as quickly"

⇒ "When I was in the first grade of elementary school my father and Tsumiki’s mother, our respective single parents, got together and disappeared into thin air"

The original doesn’t mention marriage OR separation. Heck, especially for the second one, it doesn’t even come close to mentioning it?? I have no clue where they got this from.

What I put as “got together” can also be translated as “to have a liaison with (a man or a woman)” (among others). Since Tsumiki’s surname is also “Fushiguro” in middle school, it’s possible that they were actually married and many Japanese fans seem to think that as well but it’s not explicitly stated, at least not here, so those are most likely speculations.

As for mysterious “separation”, the word used here actually means "disappearance (of people intentionally concealing their whereabouts); unexplained disappearance", so imo the whole section means their parents got together and at some point both disappeared. As we learn at one point in the manga Touji first and Tsumiki’s mum sometime later.

(Btw, one fan scanlation used “evaporation” here instead and while this is another possible translation of the word in question, imo from the context it’s clear that the intended meaning was the “unexplained disappearance” instead.)

Lastly, Megumi uses kind of formal expressions when referring to both his own dad and Tsumiki’s mum, which imo is indicative of the emotional distance.

[Tiny Megumi about teenager Gojou]

"A weirdo with white hair said"

⇒ "A suspicious man with white hair"

Needless to say, he doesn't actually call Gojou a weirdo.

[Gojou about Touji]

"But he's a loser that just works for me. He left the family and had you."

⇒ "He's enough of a good-for-nothing to take aback even me. Basically, he left home and then had you."

Emphasis mine. Again, I literally have no clue where they got the translation they went with for this. “Works for me” - just what?? (Btw, one of the fan scans available for this had the latter part of this line mistakenly imply that Gojou had Megumi leave his house. The bit definitely referred to Touji leaving the Zen’in family.)

"You're something your dad used against the Zen'in family. His trump card"

⇒ “You’re something your father kept as his strongest card against the Zen’in family”

A bit of a different nuance than “your dad used” suggests.

"The divorce money makes sense now. I was sold to this Zen'in family"

⇒ "The mystery behind the funds for their disappearance got solved. Apparently, I was sold to this Zen’in family or something"

Again, the word for “divorce” doesn’t make an appearance ANYWHERE in this chapter, least of all this page. ...How.

Once again - fan scans had this as money that also evaporated but neither it nor the official English release make sense, considering the line is followed up by “I was sold” as the explanation. So yeah, imo the first sentence definitely referred to the money Megumi considered necessary for Touji (and co’s) disappearance.

[Gojou referring to Touji basically selling Megumi off]

"Sucks, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it's annoying. Especially your attitude."

⇒ “It pisses you off, doesn’t it”

“Yeah, it does piss me off. Especially that lack of delicacy of yours”

I mentioned it multiple times but imo repetition in the original text tends to be done on purpose and as a device and imo this was another example where this was the case. Megumi borrows Gojou’s words here. (Which mean “to be irritated, “to be angry” and not “it sucks”.)

[Megumi continuing about Gojou]

"But that annoying guy wrote off the situation with the Zen'in family. He made a promise that we would work as sorcerers in the future. We would be collateral and receive financial support from Jujutsu High in exchange."

⇒"This man pisses me off, but it was him who cancelled the deal with the Zen'in family, and made it so we would receive financial support from the technical college with me working as a sorcerer in the future [serving] as collateral for it”

I don’t know why they’d translate it as “we would work” here since who the “we” would be supposed to even entail other than Megumi himself? Surely not Tsumiki. Or Gojou. Also, putting the next bit as “we would be collateral” makes it sound kind of dehumanising to me, ngl, whereas Megumi was talking about his labour here.

Also, the same phrase for “pisses off” as above got used once again, which makes it three times in a row, so imo that was definitely a deliberate stylistic choice on Gege’s part.

“Jujutsu sorcerers. How stupid.

⇒ "Sorcerers, what even. How nonsensical"

Just proposing an alternate wording.

[Megumi about the curse Tsumiki got hit by]

"All we knew was that we didn't know anything. Tsumiki still sleeps."

The word used to describe Tsumiki’s state literally means “became bedridden”, which imo heavily implies she fell into a coma. “Still sleeps” is most likely a misunderstanding on the translator’s part since the word sounds like it’d mean that (but it doesn’t.)

[Megumi about Tsumiki]

"Always smiling and saying nice things"

⇒ “Always smiling and spouting lip service”

Another case where the translator seems to have translated the word based on the way it’s written as opposed to checking the actual meaning. (The “nice things” phrase.)

"It's not a bad thing to not forgive people. Megumi, that's your way of showing kindness."

⇒ “Not being able to forgive people isn’t a bad thing. That’s your kindness, Megumi”

It wasn’t just “not to forgive” but “not being able to forgive”! Which imo would imply the next line’s nuance was something similar to Tsumiki considering Megumi’s inability to forgive people to be something that stems from his kindness (e.g. because he can’t stand seeing injustice).

"Even spinning my short-comings in a positive light."

⇒ “She would affirm even my nature"

Imo this line was more of Tsumiki accepting Megumi as he is or at least that’s what the line says - makes sense with what I proposed for the line above too. Translating it the way they did in the official release kind of feels like overinterpreting.

"But even she would get upset when I hurt somebody. I was annoyed by the hypocrisy"

⇒ "But even such Tsumiki would get genuinely angry (...). I would get annoyed thinking she was a stickler to the rules and a hypocrite"

Emphasis mine. The phrase that the translators seem to have skipped here and I translated as "stickler to the rules" literally means "to play it safe", "to avoid trouble at all cost".

"Yeah, I know. I was immature. I'm sorry so please wake up already"

“I’m sorry, I was a brat. I’ll apologise so just wake up already, stupid older sister”

Just a different nuance and tone for the whole line.

"All I did was get rid of the Yasohachi bridge curse. My sister's sleeping curse is a separate matter."

⇒ "This Yasohachi bridge curse was probably only overlapping with it, and the curse that caused Tsumiki to fall into a coma probably hasn't been lifted"

The official English release makes it sound like sleeping (or more correctly, the coma) was the nature of the curse that Tsumiki was put under, whereas imo the original indicates it just as its effect, which is an important distinction.

“As for the finger and Itadori…”

⇒ “What should I tell Itadori about the finger...”

The “tell”, “say” is only implied here but it’s pretty clear from the context that was the meaning. Also, he explicitly says “to Itadori” here.

[After the Yasohachi bridge curse got defeated by Megumi who then retrieved the Sukuna finger from it]

"All of sudden I feel a presence. Did the finger get out of the barrier? Whoever took out the finger bearer is quite formidable."

⇒ ��The huge presence that appeared all of sudden... Did Sukuna's finger get out of the barrier? If it was a sorcerer that exorcised the finger's host, they must be quite good......."

Emphasis mine on bits that got cut out in the official release. Because Esou was facing off Nobara, he probably assumed it’s likely there may be other sorcerers present and imo that’s what this line also suggests.

"Even so... The finger... Even if they fought against a special-grade and won, They more than likely didn't come out of it unscathed. I hope they're okay."

Just to clarify that the word used for “they” in the original indicates the speaker knows the people in question, so those were Nobara’s thoughts here.

Chapter 60

[Esou to Yuuji and Nobara after he activates his wing king technique]

“Start running and turn your backs to me”

“Run. With your backs turned to me” would fit better nuance and mood wise. (Esou didn’t want to show his back to anyone so now he’s’ forcing them to show theirs.)

[Nobara to Yuuji after he scooped her up because she couldn’t run as fast as he could]

“I got your back”

“Okay”

“Okay” isn’t incorrect per se but the word has the nuance of “I’m counting on you”.

[Nobara to Yuuji after he speeded through the forest while carrying her, allowing them to escape from Esou's technique]

"Well done, you deserve some praise"

“Yeah, yeah”

“Just kidding. Thanks!”

⇒ "You have my praise." (...)

Actually a set phrase! Spoken from a rather elevated/superior POV, which is why Nobara later reiterates that she’s genuinely thankful. Also, I probably would just go with a period for “Thanks”, imo nuance wise it didn’t require an exclamation mark and it’s not there in the original either.

[Esou after Yuuji gets splashed with Kechizu’s blood]

"There's no need to worry. My younger brother's blood isn't the same quality as mine"

Actually "doesn't have the same properties like mine”.

"You wouldn't even die from mine unless you were drowned in it."

Much closer to something like "unless you were to bathe your whole body in it".

"But it does hurt like hell"

⇒ "But it does hurt to death"

Not really wrong meaning wise but in the original it was “to death” instead of “like hell”, which combined with a previous line was probably a wordplay. "You won't die but it does hurt to death"

[Esou explaining how his and Kechizu’s shared technique works]

"If you take in one of our brother's blood and if one brother activates a technique"

Idk if it's clear here but it most likely doesn't matter which brother does which (could even be the same one). Also, definitely should’ve been “the” or “this” for technique, since Esou has just stated on the same page he’s now going to start laying out how a specific technique of he and his brother’s functions.

[Esou replying to Yuuji]

"Yes, the result is essentially poison. Our technique is 'decomposition'"

Should be “but what our technique is, is actually ‘decomposition’” nuance wise.

"It's activated now. In reality they'll be dead faster than that”

⇒ “Done with technique disclosure, so in reality (...)”

Emphasis mine. You know, the rule in jujutsu where if you explain your technique to your opponent, it gets a buff? “Activation” is just wrong here.

While it’s not phrased as such, the phenomenon is first explained in ch. 20 during Nanami’s explanation to Yuuji (refer to part II 2/2). It also gets mentioned by name later in the manga but oftentimes the official release would either skip it or word it completely differently so it’s hard to tell, like in ch. 51, when Hanami realises Toudou has lied to him (part IV 5/5).

[The history of how cursed wombs came to be]

"[In the beginning of the Meiji era] there was a girl with special genetic makeup who bore a cursed-spirit child"

Actually “with an idiosyncrasy that allowed her to get pregnant with the child of a cursed spirit”! Imo an important distinction since it’s not certain whether her first child that gets discussed here was born prematurely or not and the following pregnancies were all aborted.

"A child born of mixed blood - both cursed spirit and human.”

Skipped “grotesque child” at the end.

“It was a mysterious pregnancy. She would be ostracized by family and friends.”

⇒ "Starting from a pregnancy she had no recollection of, [followed by] the oppression from her kith and kin, it made her go insane"

This latter part of this section is filled to the brim with complicated language so I’m not entirely sure but I think this might’ve been the intended meaning of the line. The official translators were probably struggling with the vocabulary too, so they cut out some stuff entirely, to be precise - the go insane part. It’s the bit I’m not certain about myself but I scoured Japanese dictionaries and that’s the meaning that seemed to be the best fit among the options.

Anyway, to reiterate - the bit about the pregnancy actually says that the girl herself didn’t even know (couldn’t remember) how it came to be. The part about the relatives doesn’t mention friends, it’s actually a set phrase that means “one's relatives by blood and marriage (in blood and law); one's kith and kin” - I went here with the latter since it’s shorter and fits the overall vibe of the line.

“She would hold the corpse of the child and flee to a temple in the mountains. The temple was run by jujutsu sorcerers. However, her luck had run out."

⇒ “(...) However, this was when her luck run out”

Other than the nuance in the last line, this isn’t mistranslated but the whole section just flowed differently in the original and felt less disjointed.

Also! One of the scanlations I’ve seen had it misspelled as “Noshitori” but the evil sorcerer’s name is actually “Kamo Noritoshi” (and yes, it’s the same as the young Kamo but the “toshi” is written with different characters).

"The child born from a cursed spirit and human would become a prisoner of intellectual curiosity"

⇒ "His [Kamo Noritoshi's] intellectual curiosity would be taken captive by children born between a cursed spirit and a human"

Very much the other way around. It's very clear in the original that the subject of the sentence was Kamo's intellectual curiosity and not the child.

"Death painting wombs: numbers 1-3. Cursed objects worthy of special grade."

Closer to "cursed objects powerful enough to be classified as special grade"

"Did cursed energy originate from a mother's hatred? No..."

It's specified here as "did their cursed energy" instead (emphasis mine), and the question is actually left unanswered......................................................... So yeah, congrats on getting rid of this very intended ambiguity. It's something like "or was it maybe--"

[About cursed wombs]

"For 150 years, with only the notion of one another's existence, they would survive, sealed away"

⇒ "For 150 years, they endured the seal, relying only on one another's existence"

"The notion" just doesn't capture the sentiment of the line at all, which imo is most likely the follow-up to the narrator's musings about the origin of the death painting's immense cursed energy. (See above.)

"We're siding with that cursed spirit."

Actually "siding with them", read as "them" but written as "the cursed spirits" - probably plural as the original literally says "the side of the cursed spirits", so it possibly means cursed spirits as a whole as well, aside of Mahito and co specifically. Remember, the brothers are actually half-humans too. I explain in depth the “written as but read as” device in part IV 4/5 (ch. 48, Toudou’s “my friend” phenomenon).

"The future that the cursed spirits have painted is more suited for us. But that's it. Forget about what we owe for our freedom"

Not incorrect per se but Chousou actually says “forget the debt we owe them of our incarnation”, which would make it yet another instance where the official English release has cut out the term entirely. (Emphasis mine.)

[Nobara after stating that a technique that assures a win as long as it hits an opponent is indeed powerful]

"I'm a bad match for you!!"

Actually “the worst match [possible]” - more confidence in the line!

[Nobara to the death painting brothers after using Resonance on herself thus redirecting their attack back at them]

"Let's play a game of chicken, shall we?"

The actual wording is “contest of endurance”, I’m not entirely sure if the two have the same connotation.

[part v (3/3)]

#JujutsuKaisen #jjk #Jujutsu Kaisen #jjk translation #jjktranslation

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stevesharrlngtons · 4 years

Note

this one might be too much but 😩 mutual pining between reader & Roman and it’s a formal event and someone is pissing him off and then reader comes in all dressed up and cute like “you said you would be nice ro 🙄” because theyre the date! and then he goes soft idk JKDFNF and people are like 😳 because they’re so cute together 😔

hi! i love this idea, and i hope you don’t mind if i tweak it a lil (-: enjoy!

so here’s the thing

roman is always looking for an angle

he loves a grift and a scheme and a plan

he’s always looking for a way to work smarter, not harder

and luckily, he has you to go along with them

since junior high, you had been roman’s accomplice, sometimes willingly and sometimes reluctantly

he had this annoying knack for knowing each and every one of your buttons and just how to push them to get his way and rope you into a plan of his

and of course, just fucking of course, that’s what he did this time

because you were incredibly skeptical about being set up on a date with some slimy businessman roman was trying to shmooze

in hopes of you becoming the man’s earworm for the night and getting him to invest millions in a new vaccine that the white tower was developing

“you know actual models, roman. i don’t know why you are asking me for this”

“because you are the only person i trust with this, and anything for that matter”

you were sat on his couch in his living room while roman stood above you, giving you his best pout which he knew you couldn’t resist

“you could ask letha”

“i don’t want letha, i want you” in more ways that one, he thought

“you could ask destiny, maybe she could cast a spell or read his palm to help you out,” you crossed your arms

you really didn’t want to do this, even for roman

was it because you didn’t want to go on a date with a notorious creep? yes, of course

was it also because you didn’t want to date anyone but the man who stood in front of you, who also happened to have friendzoned you at the age of fifteen? yeah, that too

but it was mostly the gross old man thing

“i don’t want models, i don’t want letha, i don’t want destiny or any little trick she can pull. i want you there, with your cunning little mind and pretty little face,” roman dropped to his knees and jutted out his bottom lip in mock sadness, “don’t make me beg, baby”

and fuck, there was that little nickname that made your stomach flip and your heart race and you can barely keep the blush from your cheeks as you reluctantly agree

and so, the plan was set

next week you were to meet with mr. daniel reynolds, a sixty something medical investor who knew more hookers than manners and wouldn’t take his hand off your ass since the moment he saw you

in which his first words were “damn! godfrey is really pulling out all the stops for me, huh?” as he gazed at you with a smarmy expression

while your skin crawled at the gesture and you had to fake giggle to cover the retch your stomach gave, you did know he was right

you looked fucking hot and it was all on roman’s dime

a contingency for you agreeing to this night was getting to take his credit card for the afternoon to buy whatever you needed for the date, price be damned

daniel picked you up in a brand new aston martin, his hand high on your thigh as he blathered on about... something, you didn’t know or care

and neither did he, truly

you were there for his to grope and stare at, he didn’t care about what you had to say

when you got to the event, all eyes were on you

you swore that people stopped their conversations to stare at you and daniel, but you didn’t know if that was just anxiety or if was true until he whispered in your ear gross

“no one can take their eyes off you, gorgeous. feels good to know you’re all mine”

and before you could reply with your now perfected canned girlish giggle, roman approached quickly

“daniel, i see you could make it.”

and immediately, just from hearing his voice, you knew this whole plan was a bust

because roman was pissed, and he was barley containing his anger

upon turning to see his face, your suspicion was proven

roman was standing to his full height, hackles raised, predatory eyes set on daniel in a straining stare, his lips pressed in a thin line as his jaw was clenched

“roman, great to see you,” daniel slaps roman on the should to which roman didn’t budge, “you already have a leg up on this investment after you sent me this peace offering,”

he patted your ass in recognition as he appreciated your body with his eyes once more

“i don’t know where you found her, but tell ‘em i don’t know if i wanna give her back!”

you just looked straight ahead at roman with a fixed smile and a look in your eyes that said i swear to god, you owe me big

“yeah, well,” roman’s voice is wound tight as he closes his eyes and takes a swift step closer to daniel, “the thing is, i’ve decided to rescind my offer. both business and personal. you don’t get to invest and you don’t get to keep her.”

“what?” daniel said, at the same time that exact thought crossed your mind

“yep,” roman popped the word from his mouth, spit coming to splatter on reynolds skin, “i don’t need your money, i don’t need you. no one does, except maybe a nursing home or an erectile dysfunction seminar”

“you little prick! who the fuck do you think you are?”

“i’m roman fucking godfrey,” roman seethes through his teeth, “who the fuck are you?”

you stood in shock as you watched daniel do the same, before roman spoke again

“that’s what i thought. now, go stand with your nose to the wall and don’t fucking bother me again,”

and sure enough, daniel’s hand went limp and fell from your butt to his side and he turned robotically on his heel and walked at a simple pace to the nearest wall to place his nose against

roman watched with an intense anger the entire time to make sure he did what he was told

“hey -- what the fuck was that?” you whispered harshly under your breath

“i changed my mind,” he growled

“since when? you practically begged for me to do this plan with you just to ruin it the second he walked in?”

roman snapped his head to look at you with that same intense gaze as before

his body followed slowly, rotating beneath him like an owl

“i am allowed to change my mind whenever the fuck i want. and i decided i had changed my mind when i saw his filthy fucking arthritis fingers on you”

“that was the plan --”

“fuck the plan! fuck. it.”

you met his stare, doing your best to match his anger, but you couldn’t

because all you could think about was how roman had seen a man touching you and hated it

because all you could think about was how fucking sexy he looked when he was mad, when he was yelling at someone and coming out on top

all you could think about was how much you wanted to beg him to touch you and kiss you and wash away daniel’s touch with his own

and roman, for his own part was thinking similar thoughts

because he really thought that this plan could work, that he could use his jealousy to his advantage, that he could harness it and use it to be a better businessman

that he could use another man as your date as a motivator to do his best to impress you and to do anything in his power to seal the deal because nothing was more motivating to roman than getting a business deal out of the way so he could have you all to himself again

but the second you walked in, looking like that, in that fucking dress, but with that fucking man? touching you? everything left roman’s mind

all he could think about was how much he wanted you, how much he needed you, how much he was the only person allowed to touch you

and how much he wanted to maim daniel reynolds, investment be damned

“i would have loved a little heads up on this. would have been nice to know you were gonna bail on the plan so i could have just blown you off,” you bit

“well, here’s your heads up for now on,” roman stepped closer, his lips only a breath away, “no more plans where any other human being touches you. no more plans where someone touches you like that, that isn’t me. no more plans where anyone thinks that you are theirs and not mine. get it?”

his voice palpated for much passion and authority your head began to spin

and your eyes widened, and your heart raced and your palms started to sweat

for a moment you swore you might faint

for another, you swore you are just going to kiss him something roman would have no objected

but all you did do was say:

“ok.”

and roman gave you a swift nod

“good. now let’s dance, i don’t want to talk business anymore. everyone here is fucking stupid and old.”

so, with his hand around your waist, roman led you to the expansive dance floor

for the rest of the night, roman’s hands help erase the memories of their predecessor. big and warm and possessive all over your body

and anytime someone looks at you for more than a passing glance, roman pulls you in tighter

he kisses your forehead and rubs his cheeks and nose to the sides of your face, like a cat marking its territory

showing everyone there what they all should fucking know

you. were. roman’s.

#roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #stevesharrlngtonswrites

157 notes · View notes

jeongi · 5 years

Text

caught me. | jjk (m)

(edit done by my love, @httpjeon)

↣ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jungkook x reader

↣ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 13.5k

↣ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 | roommate au. slight e2l au. smut. porn with very little plot.

↣ 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | explicit language and sexual content. mentions of vaping. mutual masturbation, sex toy usage, oral sex (f + m receiving), gagging, fingering, squirting, dirty talk, some wall fucking, riding, unprotected sex (you know the drill, wrap it up), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, jungkook has tattoos, long wavy hair and a giant schlong.

↣ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you hate your temporary roommate, jungkook and it doesn’t help that he’s been catching you at the most inconvenient of times.

“Seokjin, how could you do this to me?” You whine from the kitchen island, reflexively stabbing at the bowl of cereal in front of you. You can’t believe your roommate is just now telling you, a day before he leaves for vacation, that his “friend” will be temporarily moving in while he’s away. Of course, Seokjin pays no mind to your tantrum. Instead, he continues packing the last of his luggage in the living space, across the room. Simply rolling his eyes and heaving a sigh in response, he’s far more acquainted with your antics than he’d like to be. He could almost call you the younger sibling he most certainly never wanted, a nuisance wrapped in feigned misery. The arrangement between the two of you seemed nothing more than the result of a last-ditch Craigslist roommate search.

He should have known the consequences, he supposes.

Another sigh escapes his lips as he turns his attention away from the luggage. “_____, I’m only leaving for three months.”

You wail again, this time, your arms stretching across the cool, granite counter to push the bowl away from yourself. You’ve wholly lost your appetite, ready to wreak havoc as you slide off the stool you’re sat on and stomp your way over to him.

“I don’t care about you leaving me!” Seokjin scoffs at this statement, returning his focus to the open suitcase laid on the floor in front of him. “I care about you stuffing me in this apartment with a complete stranger while you’re gone.” What was the fucker’s name again? Jon Q, John Cook? You’re furious, but of course, Seokjin fails to take notice of this. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone and scrolls through his extensive list of items to pack. He’s only gotten through half of it.

Your words don’t seem to have much of an impact on him, fueling your fury. “What if he tries to murder me? Or even worse, what if I end up murdering him? You won’t even be here to help me hide the body— this is a travesty!” This is followed with another signature sigh, all drama, your wrist shooting up to your forehead as you dab at invisible sweat.

You briefly think you might actually hate Seokjin.

He pauses, dropping his phone into the open luggage before craning his head towards you. Blinking, purely baffled by the lunacy he has to constantly put up with, he internally gives his utmost gratitude to the heavens that his work has sent him on this European trip tomorrow. Three clean months of the peaceful canals of Venice, the Colosseum in Rome, the Eiffel Tower in Paris and most importantly, three lovely quiet months away from you. Suddenly, three months no longer seems an eternity to him. How could it? He assesses you top to bottom, seeing nothing more than a rabid young woman scorned, hands placed sternly on her hips, expectant of a reply.

No sir, three months is not long enough at all.

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing his eyes shut as he speaks through gritted teeth. “You are the most melodramatic person I know— you think you can afford to pay my rent for the next three months?” This shuts you up momentarily.

For a moment, you’re disarmed. You can’t argue that he’s right, and you hate admitting it’s the only reason for your new (temporary) roommate.

Releasing his nose, he looks at you, warming a little. “Look, he asked to stay here -temporarily- until he finds his own place. He’s my best friend; wouldn’t you do the same for yours?”

That final bit had the effect he wanted it to, and boy, did it sting. Of course, you’d do the same for your best friend. The only trouble is that you know very little information about this John Cook character, only getting brief details about him moving into the big city for the first time and Seokjin “graciously” providing him a rental until he can find something more permanent. It isn’t a fault on Seokjin’s half. You just don’t know the poor bastard.

Beyond that, you know this guy is a Taekwondoin, moving here to join one of the most prestigious Taekwondo academies in the country. Your blood runs cold in a sudden rush, a certain grim realization dawning on you that you’d absolutely be no match for him if he did try to kill you. Perhaps Seokjin has told you so late because he too wants you dead. You really shouldn’t have met him through Craiglist.

You consider leaving a lengthy, final Tumblr post in remembrance of your inevitable end, hoping one of your 12 followers would come forth and save you from a gruesome slashing. At best, someone saves your life. At worst, you’ve written your own eulogy.

Huffing a breath of frustration, something akin to a groan escapes you as you march back to the kitchen island for your now soggy bowl of cereal. It only fuels your now quiet rage further, but pettiness takes over, mentally muting Seokjin’s yelling profanities after watching you dispose of one of his favourite glass bowls. It’s the least you can do as revenge.

As it turns out, Jeon Jungkook is a nearly six feet tall mural of muscle and inked skin that rarely stays home. His dark wavy hair falls gracefully past his large doe eyes, and his plethora of tattoos litter the tight expanse of his neck and arms. Notably, the blossom of two red roses painted over the porcelain of his neck.

Though verbally a silent roommate, you find he vapes far too much and equally plays far too much Fortnite at odd hours of the night. He only comes out of his room to either make himself food or to leave the apartment, and a couple of times you could have almost sworn he might’ve been doing his laundry. He’s a feast to lay eyes on, that much is irrefutable but he leaves at least one utensil unwashed after eating, irritating you to an unprecedented degree.

Jungkook also enjoys eating ramen at two in the morning- you know this because it wakes you up almost every time you hear the microwave blare its oppressive siren. He also figures he must shower each time he returns home from being out, suitably fattening your poor water bill. You’ve only briefly spoken to him a handful of times, mostly about house rules and a tour of the facilities.

It’s only been two weeks since he’s arrived, yet you already seem to despise him- sending Seokjin angry messages from across the globe about this, all of which have been ignored. You’ve been too busy lately anyway, rarely seeing Jungkook who seems to be out for most of the day.

However, it’s today that you finally catch him when you’re just coming home from work. He sits at the kitchen island, flipping through a comic while he loudly chomps on an open bag of shrimp chips, pausing to look at you as you make your way inside.

You’re on speakerphone with your friend Nari, both of your arms too occupied and laden with groceries to normally hold the phone to your ear. Upon seeing this, Jungkook gets up from his seat and immediately rushes to lend a hand. He’s completely shirtless, his loose dark sweatpants hugging the low subtle curve of his hips, and it’s only then that you notice the mosaic of more tattoos scattered across his skin beyond his full sleeves and the two red roses on his neck. He has much more than you had initially seen, a large black and white snake running over his pelvic bone. It draws your eyes forward, let’s it linger over to his bare abdomen, untouched with ink and defined with muscle. You can see it evidently, the indents carved into him as if he’s been sculpted from the finest of limestone.

You catch yourself from staring, thanking him with a silent bow of your head as he turns away from you, all the bags of groceries now racked effortlessly down his taut arms. Your momentary and involuntary ogling is cut short by Nari’s voice booming through the loudspeaker of your phone.

“God, you really need to get laid soon- I’m tired of you being so grumpy.” You freeze, nearly choking on your own saliva. “I already deal with one grump on a daily, I don’t need to add another to my inventory.”

Fuck. “Yeah, well, working on it!” You titter nervously into the microphone. It’s all in vain, for Nari is relentless in her pursuits.

“Didn’t you say your new roommate was hot? Just fuck him, that’d be pretty convenient. It’s like, like...dick-on-demand!” She laughs, guffawing into the mic as though it’s the most hilarious thing she has ever said. You stand there, eyes wide and mortified as the cackle from the other end of the line sounds more villainous than genuine humour. Her words linger still in the air, and a very deep desire to Crtl+Z yourself from life’s current existence fills your petrified body.

You know Jungkook has heard the words because he pauses in his step very briefly, faint stutters in his movement as his back stays turned towards you. Before you catch the slightest motion of his head about to look over his shoulder, you’re whipping around and fumbling for your phone. With the greatest deft you can muster, your thumbs desperately try smashing the giant red ‘end call’ button.

To no avail, the phone screen freezes, Nari’s cackling report still filing through.

You think this feels like a nightmare. In fact, you’re certain you’ve had a nightmare precisely like this before. Except this is real, very much real and you’re humiliated. cheeks surely flushed crimson as you tut in annoyance at your malfunctioning product of capitalism.

Jungkook simply clears his throat and continues moving towards the kitchen once again, acting as if nothing has happened. Under any other circumstances, you would almost be offended, but given the current nature of what has just transpired, you both let the feeling pass. “Anyway,” Nari continues and you wish she’d shut up. “I gotta go, Yoongi just got Minecraft and I’m going to give him the best head of his life,” she groans into the mic in satisfaction. “I love you, bye!” She cuts the mic, completely and blissfully unaware of the impending Armageddon she’s inadvertently spawned. You’re stood there in horrified silence, counting to five in your head before you’re very anxiously swivelling around.

You open your mouth to say something, but words fail you. What could you even say?

Jungkook cuts in. “I’ll uh, put these away. Don’t worry about it.” He beams you a rather charming grin, completely devoid of any awkward tension that filled the air moments ago. Somehow, this surprises you far more than if he had acknowledged it.

You thank him with haste, your feet acting much quicker than your head as you swiftly cut across the kitchen towards the hallway where your bedroom stands. Avoiding eye contact at all costs, your face is surely now painted just as red as Jungkook’s bag of shrimp chips on the counter.

Perhaps it’s to ease yourself more than anything that you decide to get angry over this situation. You’re not angry at Nari, no, you’re angry at Jungkook. Who was he to waltz into your apartment and have you monitor your phone calls? And be shirtless nonetheless? Had he no manners? Why should you have to tiptoe around him? You think if this were Seokjin, he wouldn’t nearly make everything so uncomfortable for you in your own place of living. Seokjin would also wash all his dishes and sleep at a reasonable time. This thought only fuels you more.

The words slip out of you before you can even comprehend stopping. “For Christ’s sake wear a shirt while I’m home, I don’t need to see you prancing half naked around the apartment. This isn’t Magic Mike, it’s home- my home.” You bark, halting Jungkook in his movements as he goes to place a new carton of milk into the fridge. He turns to look at you, the dangle of his silver earrings glinting against the light and you almost grimace at how attractive he looks in this moment.

Before he can respond, you’re pivoting away from him and walking towards your bedroom.

You slam your door with a thud and let out a strangled groan. Perhaps it was too harsh, the anger is now replaced with further distress. You toss yourself onto your mattress, stuffing your face into the nearest pillow and restraining yourself with every ounce of self-control you have from screaming your lungs out into it.

You hadn’t even called Jungkook hot, you had mentioned that he was conventionally attractive- which wasn’t a lie in the slightest. You’re half tempted to call her back and scold her good for the humiliation she’s so blissfully unaware of causing, but as you pick up your phone, a text flashes across your screen with a name you’re all too familiar with. And all too soon, your agitation grinds to a halt, dissipates and metamorphosizes into a goofy, toothy grin.

Taehyung - [1 New Text Message]

Kim Taehyung works just across the room from you on the seventh floor of the accounting firm. He has rich blonde hair and plump pink lips that he constantly wets with a dab of his tongue. You swear he’s been purposely winding you up recently, the brushes against your skin too frequent, the lingering stares too prolonged and the husk in his voice too low when he speaks to you. You’ve had a crush on Taehyung since you’ve started working at the firm, two years ago. Of course, he’s completely unaware of this.

5:44pm [Taehyung]: Hey, can I ask you for a favour?

The squeal you let out is unbearable, even to you. You feel the reminiscence of being back in middle school when your sixth-grade crush, Park Jimin had asked you to the Halloween dance. Of course, that night had ended terribly for you, catching Jimin and your rival, Sooya slow dancing while you went to get unnaturally lukewarm fruit punch from the snack bar. But much like right now, you remember the butterflies fluttering through your entire body the night before the dance.

Feeling the crimson warmth return to your cheeks, you clutch your phone to your chest while a coy smile stretches across your lips. You practice your well-rehearsed, five-minute wait before texting Taehyung back, typing and retyping your response until you’re satisfied with a legible reply. Pursing your lips, you go back and forth between adding a smiley face or not, ultimately choosing to go with one just to further the delusions in your head that adding one will somehow make him fall madly in love with you.

5:50pm [You]: of course you can! :)

You gasp when your phone vibrates within seconds, a giddy coo leaving you as his name flashes once more across your screen. You slap a hand over your mouth when you hear the footsteps of Jungkook pass by your door, your eyes darting towards the shadow of his feet seen just underneath the crack of your door. His room- rather Seokjin’s room- is right next door to yours, another unfortunate occurrence in your miserable life.

5:50pm [Taehyung]: Could you possibly drop me off at the airport tomorrow morning? I’ll treat you to breakfast on the way!!

Your grin grows tenfold, your teeth clutching your bottom lip in its hold as you glide your fingers over the keyboard with an answer.

5:52pm [You]: it’d be my pleasure!!

It seems as if everyone but you and Jungkook were going away on vacation from this hell city. Perhaps you may be in need of one too.

You drop Taehyung off at the airport at five in the morning. You think it should be illegal for anyone to wake up at such an hour. You hadn’t had much time to sleep, Jungkook’s nightly ramen snacking occurring at exactly two in the morning, just two hours before you were supposed to be awoken by the chirps of your alarm. As if the morning couldn’t have gotten any worse, you had learned Taehyung was travelling abroad to meet his very long-term and long-distance girlfriend for the first time. Your luck seems to have worsened as you’ve aged. All the signs you thought you’d seen of him visibly showing his interest in you had all been in your head.

By the time you reach home, it’s six, the sun barely peeking through the hillside view from your apartment and your eyes are droopy, heavy with sleep. A yawn escapes you as you place your keys on the kitchen counter before you kick off your shoes and shuffle towards the living room in a slump. You plop onto the couch, releasing a long exhale as you lift your feet up to lay more comfortably.

Briefly, you think you should stay up and get your day started, as you reckon most people who have their shit together would do as such. Unfortunately for your itinerary, you’re not most people and you’re certainly not someone who has their shit together. You’re _____ and you’re now dreaming, dreaming of a single Kim Taehyung.

His mouth is on yours, golden locks under the tight grip of your fingers and his cock is steadily rocking into you, fingers digging into your sides. He has you seated on the bathroom counter, your legs circled around his waist as his sharp thrusts elicit the neediest of cries from you.

“Taehyung!” You’re moaning, eyes rolled so far back into your skull, you feel the pull of your optic nerve. Loosening your grip on Taehyung’s hair, he moves away from your mouth and rests his forehead in the crook of your neck. Every curve of his dick plunges in calculated fashion into your cunt, egging you closer to your undoing.

Another sharp thrust has your entire body shuddering, a lapse of jitters filling you as your orgasm rumbles through you. When Taehyung lifts his head from the crook of your neck, you gasp. For when you look at his face, it’s no longer Taehyung, it’s now Jungkook.

He offers a lopsided smirk, an indent of his dimple forming around the right side of his mouth while a finger trails down your cheek.

“Wake up,” the apparition whispers.

You gasp awake, spine shooting upright as you heave heavy breaths. Skimming your hands over your face, you let out a frustrated groan, bewilderment and daze hitting you as you land right back to reality.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You hear a low voice and you immediately shriek, arms hugging yourself in a mock attempt to hide yourself even if you are fully clothed at the moment. You look over, glancing at the tall, frozen figure stood in the kitchen. His doe eyes are wide, startled by your reaction, dark hair wavy and long, clinging around the edge of his pale face and you can see the faintest trace of the red ink on his neck underneath the loose collar of his black hoodie. He’s got a knife in one hand and a half-cut tomato laid on a cutting board in front of him. “I-I was going to wake you up for lunch but…” His face has suddenly flushed to a shade of rose, tongue swiftly dabbing at his bottom lip. He clears his throat and hesitates before looking away. “Y-you seemed engrossed in your sleep, I didn’t want to wake you up.” What was that supposed to mean?

When you look behind him, the pot on the stove is steaming and it’s then that you catch the aroma of sauteed onions and oregano. Naturally, your mouth instantly waters, eyes glancing over to the digital clock that displays itself on the stove. It reads as five minutes past noon and you rub your eyes with the back of your hand before you’re blinking towards the time again. Had you really passed out for a solid six hours? How long had Jungkook been here? “You...don’t have work today?” You swallow, slowly raising up your feet.

Jungkook merely chuckles and shakes his head no. The silver of his dangling earrings swings with this motion. “I’m not working yet, I’m a student at Master Seong’s.” You had almost forgotten about the Taekwondo Academy, it’s the exact reason he’s now standing here in your kitchen cutting tomatoes. “Hopefully, I’ll be the one teaching by next year.” As he speaks, you notice he has a perfect set of pearly whites but then you think of course he does- anything that would make Jeon Jungkook less perfect at this point would be a micropenis. For whatever reason, that makes your blood boil but as much as you’re in disdain, the thought instantly brings attention to a sweltering puddle between your legs.

Your head shoots down, feet shifting uncomfortably as you feel a slick cling against your panties and it’s then that every aspect of your sex dream hits you in a movie montage. You had fully and wholeheartedly dreamt of Jungkook fucking you.

You gasp, unwillingly, feet losing balance before you catch yourself against the counter. Jungkook pauses and looks at you, a tentative eyebrow cocking in your direction in question.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, more curious than considerate. His voice seems to ebb and flow with the sultry ease that only he could— my god, maybe you do need to get laid.

You use your elbows to push yourself off the counter before you’re walking over to the stove, body brushing against Jungkook’s back as you reach for the vent switch.

“Next time you cook something, turn on the exhaust fan or else it’ll get smokey in here.” You say, voice stoic like ice in this smothering heat, ignoring the blatant arousal seeping out of your cunt. You brush past him once more to make way towards the hallway.

Jungkook sighs in defeat, watching as your figure disappears into your bedroom.

The moth outside your window bats against the patio light with a fierce determination that boggles your mind. You wonder what might be going through the moth’s head: does it ponder this alien, man-made warmth it now feverishly flutters around? Does it understand it in the slightest? Why else would such a simple creature be breaking the peace of a sticky midsummer’s eve?

You glance at the clock on your dresser. It’s now half past midnight, and you’re dying in this stupid heat. Perhaps it didn’t help that you had a six-hour nap, impressed by your ability to do so in broad daylight. And you can’t get it out of your head, the dream. It’s kept you horny all day- in need of relief. You think about the last time you’ve had sex, a one night stand with a tall, polite gentleman named Namjoon. It was quite possibly the best sex you’ve ever had, a shame you never caught his number.

With a less than pathetic groan of protest, you put your head between the pillow and the mattress, savouring the seconds of coolness that surround your head in a desperate bid to lower the temperature however you can. Something’s got to be better than stringing sex and a fucking invertebrate into the same train of thought this late at night.

Raising your head up from the pillow, you weigh your options. You’re not about to drink yourself to sleep, and your secret supply of ZzzQuil has run dry. Fortunately, you have a solution.

It’s nights like tonight that you can’t hold yourself back, orgasms helped you sleep better anyway. Your vibrator mocks you, blinking as it charges for the first time in weeks. You hear Jungkook shuffle on the other side of the room, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip as you quietly reach your bedside table for a pair of headphones. You grasp at odds and ends until your fingers find purchase, and with a small sense of victory, you pull a very tangled mess of headphones from the drawer. You hear a cough on the other side and pause, gulping as if you’re fourteen all over again and just discovered the fruits of pleasuring yourself for the first time.

The vibrator’s LED light switches to a solid green, indicating its readiness to abuse your very untouched clit. You flush at the thought, yet eager as the familiar moisture pools in between your legs. You’re suddenly all too ready, all too demanding of the touch of a toy that you haven’t felt in too long. Why had you been putting this off for so long?

Unplugging it from the outlet next to your bed, you slip off your shorts and lay comfortably back onto your mattress. Another blush creeps onto your cheeks, your thumb unlocking your phone and opening the Chrome app. Making sure to switch to a private browser, you hesitantly type it in.

‘Pornhub’

The link loads embarrassingly quickly and you flush further, a mix of both the heat and your self chagrin marking the apples of your cheeks. You don’t even know what to look for, the home page overwhelming you with a variety of sinful thumbnails, begging to be clicked on. It almost makes you grimace in distaste, suddenly too aware of your surroundings and the situation at hand. You decide against pornography, gripping onto your imagination as you toss your phone aside and clear your throat, settling back onto the mattress with your eyes closed.

You’ll think about Namjoon. His broad hands, slender fingers and that deliciously thick cock. His moans, his honey skin and the way he was able to make you come twice that night.

Spreading your legs apart, you fixate the vibrator against your heat, gasping at the cool tip of the silicone already sensitive against your clit. You’re already soaked, the head gliding over your clit with slick.

It feels wrong when you turn the device on, the low buzz of vibrations filling the air. Brows knitted together, you picture Namjoon again. Trying to imagine the stroke of his tongue against your folds as the buzz of your vibrator rings through you, you gasp at the overwhelming sensation. Why didn’t you do this more often? You try to stay quiet, breathing growing laboured as the image of Namjoon between your legs morphs into something else. Rather, it morphs into someone else.

You see it in your head, your fingers threading through dark curls, legs pinned apart by two ink-sleeved arms. When you look down, you’re met by the intense gaze of brown doe eyes, his brows furrowed as his tongue flicks relentlessly against you. It’s almost as he’s smirking at you, the slightest quirk in his eyebrow implying that he knows he’d fucking you well with only his tongue. The image makes you shudder, shaking your head as you kick this sick fantasy out of your mind. Were you out of your mind?

On the other side of the room, Jungkook’s ears perk up to the sound of this low buzz. He hadn’t realized you were still awake. But as the buzzing intensifies, and a rhythmic deep breathing follows, it soon grows impossible to ignore. He has to be certain. Cautiously removing one earphone, he almost leans into the noise, cocking his head to the side.

No, that’s definitely you, alright.

You gasp as you apply more pressure to your clit, eyes rolling back from the waves of vibrations surging through your entire body. You can’t get it out of your head, imagining Jungkook’s taut arms holding you down, his tongue unforgiving against you. The moan that escapes you is wholly on accident, a hand slapping against your mouth in an attempt to silence yourself further.

Jungkook sits at his desk, dumbfounded. Were you really doing what he thought you were? Surely not. It’s then that hears the moan. It penetrates the thin wall that separates the two of you and stirs a familiar twitch in his boxers. He feels it press against the fabric, stretching with every heartbeat that knocks against his ribcage. His breathing begins to deepen, only letting his imagination wander as to what you were doing in this moment, merely a few feet away.

No, he thinks. Absolutely not. Behave yourself.

You’re…well, you’re moaning.

Fuck this, Jungkook’s inner dialogue protests. If you’re not going to play fair, then neither is he. He rises from his desk, tripping slightly over his office chair, clattering the plastic wheels against the hardwood floor. The sound reverberates through what feels like the entire house, and the silence is broken by the impact, which by all accounts seems far too noisy for its own good.

Jungkook freezes, terrified. The buzzing ceases just as suddenly, and the air is replaced with an undesirable discomfort.

Inside your room, your left hand tightens over your mouth the other switches off the vibrator. The kerfuffle seemed to have occurred frighteningly close, prompting a sudden cease to desist all sinful pleasures. The anxieties come in waves, one after another. Did he hear you? Oh God, how long was he listening? Was that even him?

A painful eternity passes. The silence fills the house once more, the crickets outside resuming their nightly song.

Jungkook half expects you to barge into his room, fuming at him for being a pervert and listening in but your feared assault never comes. If anything, his cock only seems to grow harder, the thought of you pleasuring yourself just on the other side of the wall so alluring, he begins to palm himself over his boxers.

You, on the other hand, upon the silence, convince yourself that he hadn’t heard after all. Surely, it was something else, Jungkook had probably already gone to bed.

Jungkook. Your lips form the shape of his name but no sound comes out, only a heavy exhale. This is wrong, beyond inappropriate and downright vulgar. It’s the dimples, you try to argue with yourself. Or those eyes, a deep coffee brown that take away from his masculine frame. It almost brings a childlike charm, distracts you from the surfeit of tattoos that mark his muscular build.

With impatience, you start the vibrator again, placing the device over your clit once more. You’re soaked beyond control, your own fingers itching to be stuffed inside yourself. Thumb hitting the setting button, the buzz of vibrations grow an octave higher as the intensity of the second setting rolls over your bead with a blast of euphoric pleasure. It’s almost too much, legs clamping shut as the judder of silicone repeatedly assaults your clit. Your panting growing quicker, inching you to tip over the edge. Oh, how you yearned to be filled with a cock.

“Fuck,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, giving into the barbaric thoughts in his head. Quietly, he slides his boxers down his thighs and situates himself back onto his desk chair. His cock is throbbing, tip a blushed pink as his heartbeat begins to resonate harder. Were you doing this on purpose? Were you testing him? Teasing him? He rests his head back, eyes fluttering to a close as he holds the base of his painfully erect cock with his right hand.

His hand slowly begins to slide up and down his own length, twisting slightly whenever his fingers cross over his glans. The sensation fills him with ecstasy, and he can’t help but gasp as he tightens his grip and continues to stroke his cock. He thinks of you, on the other side of the wall with your legs spread, flushed and begging to be fucked. How well he’d fit inside you, how well you’d take him in your tight cunt and how you’d whimper his name into his ear. With these thoughts, his pace on himself quickens, breaths laboured against the air. This was wrong, so wrong but hearing you like this, imagining you sprawled on your bed in desperate need of his touch only pushes him further to his climax.

For a moment, he thinks about risking it all and just ripping your door open to fuck you into your next existence. He stays planted onto the leather seat, his hands roaming in a familiar rhythm.

You are minutes, seconds away from seeing strings of white. It’s when you raise your vibrator to its third setting that you come undone, biting the inside of your cheek as your orgasm plummets you to a new horizon and Jungkook’s name sits at the edge of your tongue.

You feel it spray out of you, your arousal sprinkling over your bed sheets in a clear indication of your collapse. You gasp and shudder, quick to turn off the device as its relentless motion becomes far too much for your sensitive clit.

You lay for a moment, gathering your bearings as your high lingers between the furrow of your eyebrows. Your head feels heavy, sleep overtaking every inch of your body and you begin nodding off almost instantaneously, vibrator still in hand. It’s when you shift to doze more comfortably that your thigh makes contact with a cool, wet splotch.

Your eyes spring open and you’re sitting up, flicking on your bedside lamp. You have just squirted all over your sheets, the damp puddle prominent and deride. You sit there in disbelief, blinking at the mess between your legs. You frown, suddenly becoming aware of the incessant pounding in your head from your high and you curse yourself for making such a mess.

Now you have to do the laundry, there’s no way you could sleep in these.

Jungkook is close, frustratingly so…it won’t take much at this rate for him to blow his load all over himself. He places his hand firmly around the chair handle, fingers gripping against the plastic. His other hand strokes faster than ever before, breaths deepening. And as he reaches his climax, the quietest of moans escape his lips, followed by your name. It’s so soft on his tongue, it feels uncouth. The trail of white fluid follows, spurts out of his cock and onto his stomach. He pants, quick to milk every ounce of himself with the squeeze of his palm around the edge of his head and then he’s reaching for his water bottle, taking a cool swig of the liquid.

He has to shower now, there’s no way he could sleep like this.

As you unhook the last of your sheets from the mattress, you quickly roll the fabric into a giant ball within your arms. You’re on your tippy-toes, hesitantly reaching for your door as you twist the knob and pull the barrier open. You look around, relieved to see the hallway engulfed in complete darkness. Jungkook’s door is closed, no light emitting through the cracks which means he must be asleep. Gingerly, you close the door behind you and tiptoe towards the end of the hall where the laundry room is- attached to the shared washroom.

You’re quick to stuff the sheets into the washer, loading the detergent into the cartridges and powering on the machine. The room’s lights aren’t even on, you’re too lazy to find them. Besides, the stark moonlight and LED of the washing machine are plenty of light enough. When you’ve set the machine to its cycle, you ponder on what the hell you can do with no bedsheets to aid in your sleep and your body covered in sweat.

Even if you are hotter than before, sweatier than before, slumber takes a toll on your body. Your head feels weighted, drowsy from your hard climax. You think a shower would work best, turning to go back into your room for a change of clothes when you bump into something, rather someone.

You shriek and take cover under your raised arms, a soft glow of white light sifting through the crack of your arms as the washroom lights get flickered on. Raising your head out of the shield of your arms, you find Jungkook standing in front of you, void of a shirt and clad by only a pair of boxers.

“Jungkook, what the fuck?” You can’t help it, your eyes wander, rake him from head to toe. You can see it, the ever so light outline of a bulge, something that is definitely nowhere near a micropenis.

“I was just...about to shower. I’m sorry- I didn’t know you would be out here, I would’ve worn more clothes” His gaze is soft with worry and you’re reminded of your earlier outburst. It was quite hypocritical of yourself when you’ve just fucked yourself on a sex toy to scandalous thoughts of him. His eyes flickers to the low drone of the washer and then back to you. “You’re doing laundry?”

Your cheeks flush, your voice hitching in your throat as you promptly pull up an excuse as to why you’re doing laundry at nearly two in the morning. “I-I spilled some tea on my sheets, I have to wash them.” You hope it’s convincing enough. “I was about to shower too.”

Jungkook regards you carefully, expecting a scolding for even asking but it never comes. You’re flustered and painted a shade of red he is familiar with. He’s only familiar with it because he too is the same shade of red. You two had been pleasuring yourselves, separately yet simultaneously. The memory almost brings a fresh wave of lust.

“Why are you showering at-” you glance at the time on your phone, “-one o’clock at night?” Jungkook doesn’t expect this question from you. You had never been interested in anything he did other than if it was something bothersome to scold over. He clears his throat and uses his slender fingers to push his hair back. You reckon he’ll need a haircut soon.

“I was exercising in my room.” Technically, masturbation was a certain form of exercise…

The air is stiff, you feel it. It crosses both of your minds, had you heard one another? Was it obvious? You shift on the balls of your feet, teeth crashing down on your bottom lip. “Well, who’s gonna shower first?” You eye his practically unclad figure. It’s impossible to not take notice of the Adonis belt that leads your vision straight to his casual bulge. You look away. “Technically I was here first.”

Jungkook chuckles and pokes the inside of his cheek with a tongue. “Technically this is your house too, right?”

Your head drops to the ground, a shameful pout crossing over your features. Perhaps you were too harsh earlier, but you may just be feeling this way from the endorphins.

You go against the wish for a shower, it’s the least you can do. “I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight, just letting you know. Please don’t make food at some obscure hour of the night or I will kill you.” With that, you push past him, your shoulder knocking against his arm as you head towards the living room.

To Jungkook, there’s something so beguiling about your clear disdain for him. He merely observes you from where he stands, feeling another rush of blood make way to his cock. How could you so ignorantly disregard that you had just been touching yourself? Did you really not know he could hear you? It baffles him, leaves him with another hard-on as he turns away, closing the washroom door behind him before he’s turning on the shower.

Today, you’ve had a shitty day.

Kim Taehyung has put in his two weeks' notice. He’s quitting this job to move halfway across the world and live with his girlfriend abroad and your boss had informed you one of your very own clients have committed tax fraud, costing your firm thousands. Along with this, you’ve spilled coffee over your white button-up and the hair tie holding your crisp bun up had snapped to unleash your unbrushed, unwashed owl’s nest.

When you walk into the apartment, you almost don’t want to look at your reflection in the mirror. It was strategically placed in the foyer by Seokjin, his scientific reasoning behind it being so he could start a positive day by looking at himself one last time before leaving the house. This logic seems like bullshit to you now. Your hair is a lion’s mane, your black bra visible against the translucent, chestnut coffee stain on your chest and your face is shiny from the amount of sweat you’ve had building up throughout the day from this sweltering heat.

Kicking off your heels, you take notice that Jungkook’s Pumas don’t take their usual occupancy on the shoe rack. This means he’s not home and this means, he wouldn’t be seeing you in this state. Relief floods over you.

Somewhere prior to the halfway point of Jungkook’s stay, your animosity for his presence seems to have expired ever so slightly. Perhaps it had to do with your newfound liking towards him from your late-night fantasies, or maybe it was because he had actually been putting more effort into working around the house as of late.

You barely see him now, and when you do, he’s usually made your food along with his own or he’s left you sticky notes telling you he’s taken out the garbage for you or cleaned the washroom. It has warmed your rigid heart but only to an extended degree.

Carding your fingers through your hair, you tame as much of it as you can before you’re unbuttoning your dress shirt and letting the air dry it out. Your bra feels slick against your skin, the mixture of coffee and sweat too unbearable. You unclip it from behind and toss it onto the bar stool by the kitchen island.

After opening the fridge for a can of iced tea, you walk over to the pantry for a snack to accompany the icy, perspiring drink. But before you can make it, you suddenly take notice of it, the twinkling mound of silverware against the sunlight seeping through the windowpane. You look down at the small pile of unwashed cutlery in the stainless steel sink, an inferno flickering in your chest.

The feeling crawls back, the feeling of wanting to reinforce your disapproval of him. It’s an emotional memory, screaming at you to go back to your familiar disdain, to a more comfortable habit. Or maybe it’s your horrible day, everything bad that’s happened leading up to this breakdown. You feel like an overly emotional pregnant lady, getting fired up over unwashed spoons and forks but you can’t push it down. You’re seeing red.

A click is heard from the bathroom down the hall, followed by the tune of a cheerful whistle. You wrap the open ends of your shirt around your chest, crossing your arms as you stand in the kitchen and await the figure’s emergence from the shadowy refuge of the hallway. Jungkook now appears at the mouth of the hall, one arm rubbing a small towel against his wet hair and the other clutching the towel hanging off his hips. Upon seeing you, his whistle abruptly drops.

“Hey,” he begins nervously. “I didn’t know you’d be home—”

The words come out of you like rapid-fire, all “good deeds” he’s ever done as a roommate escaping through the vents. “You…” You begin, and he winces. “Do you see this?” You point to the sink. “How fucking hard is it to wash your own forks and spoons? Fuck, I’m so tired of picking up after you!”

You’re really unable to stop yourself, weeks of pent-up frustrations just now unleashing, lashing against the boy with such vigor, you can see a gulp send his Adam's apple to a bob. “For the record, if you’re going to smoke, do it the absolute farthest away from the apartment- I cannot stand the scent of fake strawberries and watermelon anymore.” Your arm motions towards the hallway, your foot stomping with it. Jungkook’s gaze very briefly strays to your shirt that unravels, just barely covering your breasts. Were you not wearing a bra?

“For every shower you take after the initial one, you have to set aside two dollars extra towards the water bill and for the love of all things holy, please start eating dinner at a reasonable time- you make it impossible to like you when I’m forced to wake up at two in the morning almost every single night.” With one push off the counter, you’re off towards the hallway to your bedroom, the heat of Jungkook’s stare burning into the back of your skull as you pass by him.

Jungkook sighs.

“I try, you know.” His quiet words halt you in your steps. “I knew you never liked me but I never knew why...that much was always a mystery. It never stopped me from trying to be the best damn roommate you’re ever going to have.” You twist around, taking in his stance. Now his arms are crossed, the towel once on his head now draped over his arm. “And yet you still hate me.”

You’re disarmed, mouth suddenly dry as you take in his words. Jungkook continues. “I...I just don’t get it- and I have to admit it’s a little disheartening,” He takes an idle step forward. “I don’t know what to expect from you- one moment you’re scolding me and the next…” His eyes trail to the exposed delve between your breasts, carefully covered underneath your unbuttoned shirt. You coil into yourself, wrapping your shirt over your chest again as you shift your gaze to the marks of ink blossomed over his skin. “And the next you’re staring at me.” Steadily dragging his gaze back up towards your eyes, he smirks and speaks again. “Kind of like you’re staring right now.”

If there’s one thing you hate the most, it’s being called out. Your pride is wounded and you rise to the challenge, huffing a bemused breath. You shoot back with faux scorn. “I’m only staring because you’re practically naked in front of me. Have you no decency in the presence of a woman?” This makes Jungkook cock an eyebrow, and he finds himself closing more distance between the two of you.

He laughs, mirthless but nonetheless amused by your rebuke. “Usually in the presence of a woman like you, decency is the last thing on my mind.” Leisurely, you’re losing each other in one another’s gaze.

You scoff. “Like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play coy, you and I both know you’re not near as good as you think you are.”

This statement catches you off guard, wholeheartedly. Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes flicker between the towel that’s barely clinging around his waist to his eyes that have seemingly darkened, ablaze with something akin to salacity. Jungkook licks his lips, the length of his damp hair sending a tiny trickle of water down the side of his face. “And that doesn’t even count all the weird shit I’ve heard in this house.” Now you’re the one gulping, frozen in place as he takes another step closer. “You moan in your sleep, you moan when you touch yourself at night...” Your eyes widen in horror, he had heard you that night and possibly every night after that.

“I’ll never forget what your friend said on the phone, you know. With lips like that…you make it impossible to forget anything about you.”

Shit.

He’s gotten closer, much closer. With anyone else, the lack of distance between you would be nothing short of uncomfortable and unwanted, but you find yourself pulled towards him. The closing of the gap between you is mutual, and before you have a chance to shoot back a reply, his lips are hovering above yours. “Pretty lips that make pretty noises.” And then, his mouth is on yours.

Your knees nearly give out.

Before anything else, you’re filled with shock, an invasive shock. How could he be doing this?

He… He’s…he’s actually a pretty good kisser. You’re swept away, his arms cocooning around you. His lips pillow against your own, his tongue the taste of mint.

Jungkook is damp from his shower, his skin slick and cool under your touch as you slide your arms around his neck. This motion beckons you closer, pushing your lips harder against his. He walks you backwards and you follow suit, mouths remaining on one another as your back hits the wall right next to your bedroom door. There is absolutely no turning back now.

His hands are sliding down your body, feeling every curve of your body underneath his palms as he squeezes and kneads until he’s reached your ass. You moan into his mouth when he grabs handfuls of your bottom, a calculated grip that he uses to push your pelvic bone against his growing erection. This invites his tongue into your parted mouth, taking in the taste of yours into his own. They cushion around each other, a synchronous valse that only grows the moisture in between your legs. You feel his want for you build against your stomach, the thickness that lays just beyond his towel.

Jungkook’s teeth find the plump of your bottom lip, a gentle gnaw at the flesh before he’s tugging at it. The whimper you let out only elicits a growl to emit from his chest, the hands on your ass now sliding up your sides until they’re cupping your face. It’s then that his clear want for you becomes evident, a taut prominence poking against your stomach.

“M’Jungkook…” You whimper into his mouth, his right hand moving from your cheek to the base of your neck. You gasp as his palm pushes against your sternum, the fingers wrapped around your neck tightening in the slightest as you’re pushed farther against up against the wall. Jungkook hums in response, his lips relentless against your own.

His mouth works in precise vigour against your own. It’s as if he has been starved of this moment for too long, days, weeks of holding himself back. You can’t stop yourself either, not quite being able to comprehend the happenings of this exact moment. Nights of pleasuring yourself to the thought of your roommate and here you two are, your cunt seemingly progressing into an ocean of slick and his cock ready to be smothered in it.

Jungkook pulls away, and when you get a chance to look at him, his cheeks are powdered in a shade of rose, his lips marginally swollen from your heated kissing and his eyes ablaze with a craving you can’t even describe. “Not so smart with that mouth now, are you?”

You swallow thickly, words failing you. Your eyes glance towards the roses stoic on his neck. Oh, how you’d like to lick over them. The situation is beyond words, and you reckon if it hadn’t been, that actions still would fare far better than words.

Jungkook drops to his knees in front of you and fiercely grabs your hips. You inhale sharply, head dropping as your fingers instinctively grasp for purchase against his impossibly broad shoulders. They’re marked with feathers that lead down his biceps in the shape of wings. You can’t help but dig in, your nails leaving thin red crescents slashing across the ink as your back rests against the wall.

“You think you can get away moaning my name every night?” He groans, alternating between breaths and kisses around your pelvis, slowly moving past your navel. His fingers hook around the belt loops in your pants, his free hand eagerly tugging down your zipper. With precision, he pulls your pants down until you’re clad in only your underwear. Thank God, you chose today of all days to wear a thong. The baby pink silk, smooth underneath his fingertips. Jungkook looks up at you wishfully, his doe eyes radiating a boyish innocence that contradicts the ink littering his skin. But then he speaks, his voice a soft growl.

“I hope you taste as delicious as you look,” he says, not doubting for a second that you won’t as he bites the elastic of your thong. You are breathless; it’s hard not to be when Eros himself is between your legs, yearning for a taste of your dripping sex.

Your breath catches in your throat, Jungkook’s thumb skimming down your pubic bone to where you want, need it the most. You shiver as he circles against your clit through the cloth, a purposeful pressure that has you tightening your grip on his shoulders. He can feel the moisture against the fabric, your arousal clinging against the material.

“I didn’t even have to touch you and you’re already this wet for me, baby?” He licks his lips, fingers running up and down your thighs. The nickname baby stays with you, lingers and only soaks you further. You roll your head back against the wall, letting his fleeting fingers latch around the band of your thong before you feel them being tugged down your legs.

It’s almost instinctive for you to want to cross your leg over the other, to keep Jungkook from seeing you so bare and needy for him. But of course, Jungkook doesn’t let this happen. He kisses your right hip bone before tracing a bold lick diagonally down to your pelvis. Your fingers rub against his shoulders, one hand gliding up the back of his head to comb through the mass of his damp dark curls.

Jungkook hikes one of your legs over his shoulder, letting the balm of your foot rest against the delve of his back as he spreads you above him. A broad hand pushes your hip back against the wall, the one leg you’re balanced on steady underneath his aiding grip. He uses his free hand to run his second and third digit up and down your wet folds. You shiver.

He looks up at you once more. This time, a lopsided smug grin adorns his face as he beams you a set of perfect teeth, the familiar indents of his dimples marking against his lower cheeks. “I’m going to make you come so hard.” You’re moaning in response to this, leg wavering as you feel the slide of Jungkook’s forefinger push into you. He hums in appreciation, your tightness inviting the chafe of his finger. He places a chaste kiss just above your pubic bone as he begins a slow rhythmic pump of his finger.

“Fuck,” you breath out, the ridges of his calloused digit filling you far greater than your own ever has. You can’t even begin to imagine how his dick will feel, your fingers laced into his hair tightening their hold as well.

It’s when you feel the point of Jungkook’s deft tongue stroke against your clit that you cry out, his hand gripping your hip harder against the wall as he feels you waver above him. Your eyes flutter to a close, letting him have his way with you against his tongue. He uses it mercilessly, flicks pointed and dexterous against your clit as his finger pushes in and out of your tight heat. “Oh my god, Jungkook.” He inserts another finger and you nearly lose yourself.

Your eyes are rolled back, your hips involuntarily jerking away from Jungkook’s grip as they push forward in search of more of his mouth. You feel it bubbling inside you, each stroke of his fingers and each swirl of his tongue making it impossible for you to focus on anything else but this feeling. He laps around your clit, strict and continuous. When you open your eyes to look down, you see his gorgeous hair enveloped in the thread of your fingers. You’ve never been eaten out against a wall like this and it only adds more to your impending undoing.

Jungkook’s digits move quicker now, with each pump comes a curl that elicits the neediest of whimpers to fall past your lips. He feels his cock twitch with every sound you make, a melodic hymn to his ears. He alternates between sharp flicks and taking the whole of your clit with his mouth in a gentle siphon. This time there is no barrier of a wall between the two of you, this time he can hear you as vividly as he hears the tits chirp outside his window every morning and this time, you are not using a vibrator on yourself, he’s fucking you with his tongue.

He can feel you tightening against his fingers, your walls clenching unimaginably tight around him with every stroke. You are close, so very close and the feel of his relentless tongue lapping around your clit along with his slender fingers has you seeing nothing but the ceiling above you. Jungkook picks up the pace of his tongue as well, his head moving in vigour as he fervently pushes the wet muscle against your bead.

He senses it coming before you do, his tongue and fingers in a violent rhythm. You jerk above him, your hold on his hair impossibly tight as you let yourself go, crying out his name from your orgasm. He feels your squirt spray out of you, it coats his mouth and chin, sprinkling even to his chest as you shake above him. Jungkook does not stop, digits pumping even faster, tongue continuing their assault.

You chant his name as you writhe underneath his grasp. The sensation becomes too much within seconds of your orgasm but somehow his persistence makes it feel as if you can come all over again.

“J-jungkook p-please,” you beg, your fingers unraveling from his hair and tightening onto his shoulders as you try to push him away. He follows suit, unlatching his mouth from your heat before languidly rising to his feet.

When you look at him, his lips are swollen and painted in your clear arousal, your squirt coating down the cleft of his chin, streaming his neck and sprinkled across his chest. It matches his damp hair, uniform with the wetness of his previous shower.

“You...just...squirted. All over me.” You can’t quite tell if this statement holds aversion at first. Truth be told, you’ve never squirted from a man’s tongue against you.

Jungkook steps closer. “Do you know how fucking hot that was?” You don’t know, but Jungkook is taking your hand into his and placing it over it his very hard bulge. You gasp at the feel underneath your palms, unyielding to your touch. It’s far greater of a bulge than you’ve ever felt before.

You smell yourself on him, a faint fragrance that you taste when Jungkook leans forward to kiss you with greed. His mouth his sticky, kisses lingering against your lips. When he pulls away, his fingers glide over the knot that holds his towel up. You watch him, eagerly as he pulls at the twist, letting the towel to fall to the floor with a soft thud.

Fuck.

Holy fuck.

“Oh my god,” you catch yourself saying out loud.

Jungkook is big. Larger, thicker than you could have ever imagined. An erect serpentine that lays firmly in his hand as he takes the base of his cock in his palm, you can’t look away. You gulp, eyes flickering between his daunting length and his growing smirk. Your mouth suddenly feels parched, a tentative tongue poking through the seams of your lips to swipe over your lips. Something about him not using the towel to directly wipe off your squirt makes your stomach flip with somersaults, so aroused by the idea of him wearing your ograsm on him with pride.

Jungkook twirls his forefinger in the air. “Turn around,” he commands and you oblige, twisting your body as you lay the flat of your palms against the cool wall. Jungkook pulls at your hips, mumbling words of profanities as your ass grinds against his thick erection. He already feels so full against your heat.

Kicking your legs open and apart, his feet stand in between yours, making it impossible for you to close them. He places a kiss against your shoulder, your forehead rested flush to the wall as a tender hand kneads at the cheek of your ass. He spanks it once, the echo of both the slap and your yelp of surprise travelling down the hall.

Hot and heavy against the shell of your ear, his damp hair tickles your neck as he whispers. “Think you can take it, baby?”

“Y-yes.” Your answer is short and breathless, hips instinctively grinding against him for further proof of your want. This earns you another spank and Jungkook is taking the base of his cock in one hand, spreading your cheeks with his free hand as he lines up to your cunt.

He nudges past your folds with his head, speaking in a low growl. “Good girl. Now let’s hear you scream.” He pushes in.

The stretch of his tip pressing into you tingles with a sizzling burn, the pressure that follows has your fingers curling against the wall and an arm reaching back to grasp onto Jungkook’s hip.

He takes your offering hand, interlocking your fingers together as he pushes another inch into you before pulling back out. He lets you adjust, your mixed moans echoing throughout the hallway as he juts his head forward to fill you once again.

His girth pinches against your walls, deliciously so and Jungkook pauses every couple of moments to let you feel every inch fill you until he’s reached the hilt.

He lets your hand go and you bring it back to press against the wall in aid of holding you up. “That’s it, baby...take every inch of it.” His voice is low, husky, something so carnally divine in the clip of his syllables that it has you rolling your head back. “You’re doing so fucking good. Does it feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you say as you exhale shakily.

He rolls out of you, his name just on the edge of your tongue before he’s thrusting forward to have it spill out of your mouth. The velvet smooth feel of Jungkook’s cock mixing with your slick arousal makes the pinching sensation come to an ease. He’s swearing behind you, alternating between muttered profanities and guttural moans.

“So. Fucking. Tight. You feel so good, baby, taking me so well.” His fingers are firmly grasping onto your hips, his thrusts now beginning a steady rhythm as he steadily fucks you against the wall. Jungkook’s girth knocks the breath out of you, a full pressure that fills your tight cunt so satisfyingly, you almost lose yourself a second time within minutes from your first orgasm.

Jungkook is panting behind you, fingers surely leaving bruises against your skin as he speeds his hips to pound into you. He loosens his grip, three of his digits tracing a line down your spine before cutting around your waist and hovering above your clit. “Come again for me, baby. One more time, squirt for me.” It’s with these words that you decide, you don’t want to squirt on the floor once more, you want to squirt on him, on top of him.

“W-wait.” You reach your arm back, pressing the flat of your hand to his hip in a gesture to stop. He stills immediately.

“Did I hurt you?” The worry in his voice only causes you to release a breathless laugh, shaking your head no in reassurance.

“I want to ride you.” How could Jungkook ever say no to that? Without a beat of hesitance, he slides out of you, taking his cock in his hand before lightly tapping the head against each of your cheeks. Gripping your waist, he spins you to face him, a dimpled smile greeting you as you reach his gaze.

“Mm, is that so?” He asks and you nod, returning his smile. The dim glow of sunlight pouring into the hallway allows you to see the glowy sheen of his sweat and your arousal glimmer against his face and chest, enhancing his tattoos. The dampness of his curls have dried but a new layer of perspiration forms a film over his forehead.

You take Jungkook’s hand in yours, leaning forward to place a chase kiss on his lips before you’re leading him into your bedroom. You walk him backwards, your hands on his shoulders and his eyes focused nowhere but on yours. It’s when the back of his knees knock against the edge of your bed that he’s forced to have a seat.

He expects you to straddle him, you see it in the glimmer of his doe eyes but instead, you drop to your knees in front of him, arms separating his inked thighs apart. This takes Jungkook by surprise, he cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow raising in question.

You hands glide up and down his legs, a grin stretching across your face as you lean forward and place a gentle peck to the base of his thick cock. Jungkook hums in satisfaction, eyes holding a challenge as he watches you with great concentration.

The pink of his head looks all too inviting as you take his cock in your hands. As you do so, Jungkook’s hands roam up your arms before they’re resting on each of your shoulders. He benignly grips at the tense muscles of your shoulders, thumbs moving in circles over your skin. “You’re tense.” He vocalizes.

“You’re fucking huge.” You hit back, eyes wide and mouth salivating at the heaviness in your grasp. It’s tacky, coated in you as you swipe a thumb over the head and Jungkook hisses above you. When you look up at him, his dark eyes are speared to your movements, teeth gritted. You begin moving your hands up and down his length.

“You can take it in your mouth, can’t you?” The tone in his voice depicts a challenge and your ears nearly perk in interest. Of course you can take him in your mouth. You lean forward, Jungkook’s broad hands leaving the expanse of your shoulders to slide up the sides of your head. His fingers comb your hair back, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail. The movement flexes the muscles on his inked biceps and you have to admit to yourself that he looks so fucking good.

Jungkook is all too eager as he watches you, the flat of your tongue sticking out to lick around the rim of his head. He chokes back a groan, grip on your hair tightening. You stretch your mouth as wide as you can, a discomfort to your movement as you engulf the whole of his head with your tongue. Jungkook inhales a sharp breath, fingers threaded into your hair as he eases you down to take more of him.

You wrap your lips around the velvet tip, beginning a slow suction. “Fuck,” Jungkook mumbles from above you, shifting on the mattress, watching you. “Open wider, baby.” You do as asked, jaw already sore from the girth of his head alone. He pushes his hips off the mattress in the slightest, grip on your hair firm as he thrusts more of himself into your mouth.

You’re careful not to let your teeth graze over the skin of his cock, your fingers tightening around his length before you start to twist your wrists and continue sucking. Jungkook is careful to be gentle with you, very tenderly urging his cock to fill more of your mouth. It shocks you when you feel the blunt of his head hit the cap of your airway, eliciting a gag.

Jungkook pulls out a millimeter before he’s pushing back in, teeth gritted and eyes focused. Your mouth looks so pretty stuffed with his cock; it’s almost as pretty as your cunt taking him to the hilt.

Another gag rumbles out of you and vibrates against his member, this time, Jungkook being the one to moan. His hips stutter in shallow thrusts into your mouth and you feel the sting of tears threatening to blur your vision.

The sounds of your gagging bounces off the walls of your bedroom, followed by the guttural moans of Jungkook as he fucks your mouth. Each thrust of his hips causes the head of his cock to push past your airway.

You release your hold around his length, fingers thickly coated in your own saliva as you find purchase of the flesh of his thighs. You let him have his way with you, your mouth stretched as wide as you can physically make it and a single thread of a tear rolling down your cheek. You look up through the flutters of your eyelashes, pleased to see the Adam’s apple in Jungkook’s throat bob up and down while his head is thrown back in pleasure.

The sudden pull of his cock from your mouth comes with a light ‘pop’ followed by you gasping for air. Using his hold on your hair, he jerks your hair back so you’re forced to look up at him. He hungrily latches his lips onto yours, sloppy and wet with a relentless tongue that intrudes your mouth.

You slide your hands over his thighs, towards the ridges of muscles on his abdomen as he helps you rise to your feet. Your right palm travels up his chest, your other arm circling around Jungkook’s neck as you let him grab a handful of your ass. With a persuasive lift, he places you on his lap, your legs wrapping around his torso as his mouth remains on yours.

“M’let me ride m’you,” you gasp in between kisses, Jungkook’s toned arms looping around your waist as he shuffles closer to the edge of the mattress.

“Yeah?” He moves from your mouth to the edge of your jaw.

“Please.” Jungkook loosens his grip around your waist, letting you rest the front of your calves on either side of him. You situate yourself, raising your hips as your hand finds his still, very erect length to line against your core.

“Look at you so needy for my cock, don’t hate me so much anymore?” The smugness in his tone only grants him a glare from you, a chuckle following his tease. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in need of you too.” You have noticed, his massive cock hasn’t wavered in want in the slightest since he first kissed you.

You huff a breath. “I never hated you.” Rubbing his head a few times over your sex, you finally sink down onto it, your cunt eagerly taking in his head. You gasp at the feel of this new position, his length gliding in much smoother with your previous practice. “You just need to start washing your fucking dish- ah!” You cry out, hands fumbling to grasp at his shoulders as Jungkook juts his hips up, slamming into you. His girth stretches your walls once again and he feels so fucking delicious in you like this. Quite frankly, you’re unsure if you’ll be able to go back to an average sized penis ever again.

“Mm, I should keep pissing you off if it means I get to shut you up like this.” His voice hitches at the last word as you pick your hips up and ram yourself back down onto his cock. You both moan at this, your arms once again looping around Jungkook’s neck as his hands firmly grip your hips in guidance.

Your teeth clash as you kiss him with each bounce of your hips, the position more so letting you gently rock over his cock. Your clit rubs against his skin with each roll of your hips, making sure you alternate between circling your hips and bouncing on his cock. Jungkook is losing himself, you know this because he holds you tightly, firmly as he lets you take control. You ride him hard and slow, the pre crescendo to his coming end.

“Come for me, Jungkook,” You moan against the shell of his ear, legs losing stamina as you try to keep a rhythmic pace. But Jungkook doesn’t want to finish just yet, he wants you to come again too.

You yelp as he slides his hands under your ass, lifting you off him before he’s throwing you onto the mattress so you’re on your back. He stands up, above you at the edge of your bed, taking your knees in the crevice of his elbows before yanking you towards him.

“Where is it?” He gruffs, fingers gripping your waist.

“What?”

“Your vibrator, where is it?” If you weren’t flushed already from Jungkook’s cock, you’d be blushing at his knowledge that you even had one. You stretch your arm above you, fingers reaching underneath a pillow where you usually keep it hidden. Grasping the device in hand, you bring it out, idly waving it in front of the ink-skinned boy. He grins, the youthful boy-like glint returning in the doe of his eyes as he releases your leg from the arm that extends to retrieve it from you.

Inspecting the controls, he finds the power button, clicking it on. A low buzz fills the room. the words that follow leaving you breathless again.

“Ah...now there’s the noise I like to hear every night.” Clicking it back off, Jungkook places it carefully next you before hooking your leg back around his elbow, hoisting your hips up. You watch with eager eyes as he pokes his tongue past his lips, letting a string of saliva drizzle carefully over his cock. He smooths the slick over his cock, letting it coat the entirety of his length before he’s guiding his head against your opening.

He gently slaps his head against your clit before rubbing against it, letting your arousal build once more. You shift your hips in impatience, fingers gripping tightly against your sheets. Jungkook leans down towards your mouth, claiming your lips once more, hard and deep. He tastes of sweat and your arousal, a tinge of salt that you lick away. When he pulls away, he’s pushing his cock into you again.

The curve of his dick hits differently with this position, now he has more control with hitting just the right spots. He’s slow at first, frustrating slow as if he’s testing each stroke of his hips to see how you react. When he’s surging forward until he’s got an inch remaining, you’re crying out loud.

“Here?” He asks and you nod profusely, words unable to form on your tongue. Jungkook pushes even deeper, another cry escaping your lungs at the new fullness. Your grip around your sheets grow tighter, teeth harshly biting down on your lip as he begins steady rock in and out of you.

You’ve never been filled so well like this, his cock hitting every surface area of your inner walls as he stretches you delectably with each roll of his hips. He fucks into you, hard and deep, changing from circling his hips to pistoning into you with no mercy. He talks filth into the air, profanities and moans chased by the sounds of skin slapping as he relentlessly plummets into you.

He can feel you about to come, the pressure of your clenched walls tightening around him to un unprecedented degree. With each thrust, your cunt only eagerly invites him back in, needy for his spurts of cum. This is when Jungkook grabs the vibrator he placed beside you, thumb quick to power the device on. You yelp and mewl as he places the silicone tip against your clit, the vibration ringing through both of you. The sensation is overwhelming, the girth of his cock mixed with the jolts of your stimulated clit leave you near screaming his name. You shake underneath him, legs quivering as you feel the rise of your orgasm build through your entire body.

“You can squirt again, baby. I know you can. I know you want to.” Your body jerks and still as the combination of one more thrust and the vibe hit you exactly where you need it to, to come undone. Jungkook doesn’t fight it, the pressure of your squirt pushing his cock out of your tightness. “That’s it, darling, so fucking hot.” He keeps the vibrator on you and you whimper, releasing the clutch of the sheets as you flail your arms towards the vibrator in an attempt to push it away from you. Jungkook does not budge.

“P-please, fuck, Jungkook...it’s too much, please.” He does not stop, watching you with intent as your body shakes underneath his control of the vibrator. He knows you can come again.

“One more time.” Your legs are desperately trying to clamp shut but Jungkook expertly holds your legs apart with his torso as he continues assaulting your clit with the silicone. It buzzes against you, rings through your entire body and within minutes you’re coming all over again. It’s so intense, you nearly black out, your voice clamouring to a scream of Jungkook’s name.

He turns it off and throws it somewhere on the mattress before he’s sliding into you with ease. He fucks your squirt back into you with a push of his cock.

This time, Jungkook wastes no time. This time, he drills into you, clamping your legs together as he pushes them forward until your knees hit your chest. This position allows him to go deeper, watching your cunt swallow every inch of his cock with greed along with every thrust of his hips. He feels his orgasm rapidly approaching.

Each snap of his hips become sloppier, his laboured breathing sporadic as his fingers dig harshly into your calves.

“Where do you want me to come?” He rasps, pulling your legs apart once more.

“I-inside me, please.” Your words elicit a mumbled fuck from him followed by a groan. You watch him through lidded eyes, your head thick and heavy from your plentiful of orgasms. Jungkook looks like the God of sex himself above you, sweat dribbling down his forehead, his dark long waves spilling over his eyes, his inked chest glistening and his muscles flexing with every grind of his hips into you. He is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “Come, Jungkook,” you coo, egging him to come undone. “Come inside me.”

With the last phrase, his hips stutter and still before he’s gasping for a breath as he spills himself into you. He shouts your name, voice getting caught in his throat. He steadily moves again, milking every last drop of himself inside of you as your walls achingly aid him.

As he comes to a stop, the room is filled with nothing but the sounds of your mixed heavy panting. Jungkook leans forward, pressing a heavy kiss against your lips before he’s pulling away from your mouth and away from your cunt. He watches, mesmerized as his cum dribbles out of you. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, your tight cunt filled to the brim with his seed.

“Fuck,” he pants, reaching his arm out to help you sit up. You roll your head forward into your palms, the rush of dopamine pounding into your skull with a massive headache. “You okay?” He asks and you nod your head, face still encompassed by your hands.

“You...should piss me off more often.” Jungkook chuckles at this. When you look up from your hands, his wavy locks have a newfound dampness, beads of sweat encompassing his tattooed chest. He’s grinning, a lopsided grin that leaves you with a warm feeling pounding in your chest.

Jungkook offers you a hand, guiding you off the bed. You take it, letting him pick you up to your feet with the strength of his biceps.

“Yeah, yeah I should.” You’re both walking out your bedroom and towards the shower.

Seokjin wears nothing but a grimace at the kitchen island as he watches you and Jungkook coo at each other. He’s just returned from his trip abroad, hands crossed over his chest as he observes the blasphemy before his eyes. Jungkook is by the stove, flipping the last of Seokjin’s steak and you’re beside him preparing a salad on the counter.

“Disgusting.” Seokjin scowls. “I leave for three months and this happens?” He scoffs at the thought of the two of you cooking him steak for dinner, as if it would break the bearer of this terrible, awful news. You two are now dating. His best friend and his roommate- to Seokjin, it’s an ultimate betrayal.

You sigh and roll your eyes, setting your freshly made salad in front of him as Jungkook brings over a sizzling pan of steak. He wears a grin on his face, a grin that matches yours before you’re leaning on your tiptoes to kiss against the indented dimple against his lower cheek. Seokjin nearly gags at this.

He truly thought he’d be rid of you as soon as this lease had ended but here you were, snogging who he thought to be his best friend. He thinks he’ll have to burn his mattress too.

“Great,” he says, deadpan, picking up his knife and fork. “I’m stuck with you forever now.” With the greatest of fake enthusiasm, he musters a disingenuous smile and angrily digs into his steak.

He hates that it’s delicious.

a/n: HEWWOOOO. how u feeling!? 🥴i REALLY!!! did not expect this fic to be so long holy shit im so sorry, i went out of control!!!! this was very loosely based off real-life events that were then fuelled by jungkook’s lotte concert look. and badda bing, badda boom, a 13k fic of pure smut is born and i am wholly unashamed of myself. i really hope you enjoyed reading this filth, it was very fun for me to write!!! please let me know what you think and as always, thank you for reading and i love youuuu 💞

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #armiesnet #bangtanarmynet #ggukienet #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bangtan smut #btssmutclub #networkbangtan #bts x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts #oneshot #fic #kpop

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coffeeinallcaps · 3 years

Note

wip/rip meme: sw poe panic attacks

(Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it!) In which Poe is FINE, he’s JUST FINE, GUYS, NO PROBLEMS HERE.

Two weeks after the Battle of Starkiller Base, Poe wakes up without a headache for the first time since Jakku. Sitting up doesn’t make him feel sick, and the lights don’t set off stabs of pain behind his eyes. There’s no wave of dizziness when he gets to his feet.

Sweet, he thinks before making his way to the refresher.

BB-8 is running preflight diagnostics when Poe gets to the hangar. The others are already there. Bastian is walking around his ship, checking the underside of the hull. Jessika waves at Poe from where she’s talking to one of the ground technicians, her helmet tucked under her other arm. Poe waves back.

“Morning, sunshine,” Iolo says, slapping Poe on the shoulder as Karé says, “All right, boss?”

“Yeah,” Poe says, and he means it. He feels good, well rested in a way he hasn’t felt since, well.

The feeling lasts until they’re about to take off.

One moment he’s fine. The next the canopy is coming down, closing in around him, and he panics.

The feeling doesn’t register as panic right away. It’s—it’s something primal, a sudden visceral overwhelming sense of wrong, something is wrong, he needs to get out of here—

“Stop,” he says, “BB-8, stop, abort,” and BB-8 overrides the control system, beeps inquisitively. Poe can’t answer the question, because he’s breathing too fast and too loud—heart beating wildly in his chest, throat, ears—and he’s already strapped in but he needs to get out, he’s stuck and the cockpit is way too small, there’s not enough room, not enough air, he can’t think, can’t breathe.

That’s when he realizes, I’m panicking.

It’s like his consciousness has split in two. He’s right here, gasping for air and ineffectually tugging at the buckles of his harness, but another part of him is divorced from all this, hovering somewhere in the back of his own mind thinking What. The. Hell.

What the hell are you doing, Dameron. Calm the fuck down. Get your shit together. You’re being irrational.

And yes, he knows, he knows that, knows it doesn’t make sense, but he needs to get out.

The buckles finally give way, and he’s moving, scrambling out of the cockpit, down the ladder that hasn’t been retracted yet. His foot slips on the last rung. He stumbles backward until his back is pressed up against something.

He still can’t breathe, still feels trapped—he reaches for his helmet, it takes him three tries to undo the chin strap, he manages to wrench the helmet off his head and lets it drop to the floor.

He’s sweating. His chest is heaving under his flak vest. It feels like he’s being punched in the diaphragm over and over again, like he’s going to be coughing up blood any second from now. Like Kylo Ren—

The vest needs to come off, too, but his hands keep slipping on it.

People are standing around him. He can see the scuffed toes of their boots, the dirty orange and olive green legs of their flight suits. “Take it off,” he hears himself say, between gasps, “take it off, take it off,” and they help him out of the vest, pull open the collar of his flight suit.

The part of Poe’s mind that is hanging back notes that this is embarrassing. A deeply humiliating experience. The part of Poe’s mind that’s panicking is unable to register it as such. The observation emerges behind an impenetrable transparisteel panel. It’s right there, he can see it, but he can’t reach it and it can’t reach him.

Someone—Jess?—says, sharply, “Step back, guys, give him some fucking space,” and someone else says, “No, I think—” and Poe closes his eyes, thinks, Yes, space, I need space, give me space and then two arms are winding tight around him. No, let go, he thinks, eyes still closed, Let me go I need and then Finn? but it can’t be Finn, Finn is still in the med bay, still in a coma, Finn is—

He struggles, half-heartedly. It’s a relief to have something physical to struggle against, instead of just the awful sense of terror ballooning in his chest, clawing at his windpipe. It gives him something to focus on. His panicking self and his observing self merge. The transparisteel panel between them drops away, and shame comes rushing in.

He takes a gulping breath and goes limp.

It’s Bastian who’s holding him. He’s trapped again, trapped between the wall and Bastian’s body, but Bastian’s body is warm and familiar and hiding him from view so it’s not too bad, really, to be trapped here. When he looks straight ahead, he can see the vast expanse of the hangar. The rectangle of sunlight at the end is a comforting sight.

This whole thing can’t have lasted longer than, what, five minutes? ten minutes? but Poe is fucking exhausted. He’s shaking, he realizes.

“Hey,” Jess says. “Poe.”

It’s just her and Bastian now. The others are gone.

Another hot, nauseating rush of shame washes over him.

“Poe. Look at me.” Jess is dabbing Poe’s face with her sleeve. It comes away soaked, he sees. Her other hand brushes against his cheek. “You with us?”

Poe nods. He’s still catching his breath. He doesn’t think he can speak. He thinks that if Bastian let go of him, he’d crumble to his knees.

Bastian doesn’t let go. He takes a small step back, but keeps his hands on Poe’s shoulders.

We’re late, Poe thinks. We need to leave. He wants to say it out loud, but the thought of getting back into his ship makes his throat close up again and a fresh layer of sweat break out on his forehead.

Jess wipes it away. She and Bastian are talking with their eyes. Poe appreciates the fact that neither of them is asking him what the hell just happened. He also appreciates the fact that neither of them is asking him if he’s okay.

The moment stretches on.

They’re late. They need to leave.

He can’t fucking get it past his teeth.

“You guys should go,” Poe says eventually, the words scraping at the dry inside of his throat. His voice sounds raw, wrecked.

Jess lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh, good,” she says. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

It’s the only right thing to say. He’d be putting all of them in danger if he tried to fly, let alone lead a mission, in this condition. He takes a breath. Still that pressure in his chest, like there’s a wet cloth lodged between his lungs and his ribcage. It’s like trying to breathe in deeply on a hot and humid planet. Like trying to breathe when Ren—

Poe swallows, shakes his head, says, “We have to...”

“Snap’s on his way down here,” Jess says. “We’ll be all right. I’ll take it from here. The only thing you have to do is go see Dr. Kalonia.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Bastian offers, and Poe wants to say no, wants to tell them to get out of here, it’s fine, he’ll be fine, but then he realizes one of his hands is fisted into Bastian’s flight suit, clenched so tight his fingers have gone numb. It hurts to let go.

One of Bastian’s hands stays on Poe’s lower back, barely there, as they walk. Poe doesn’t stop at the med bay. Bastian wordlessly keeps up with him.

“Thanks, buddy,” Poe says when they get to his quarters.

“Anytime,” Bastian says, with a small, soft smile that makes Poe want to sink through the floor.

He lies back on his bed with his arms folded over his face. They’re trembling. His whole body is trembling. He closes his eyes and tries to block out his thoughts.

He doesn’t move until the doors slide open.

“Poe,” Dr. Kalonia’s voice says.

Poe says, “Doctor.”

His head doesn’t swim when he pushes himself up on his hands. It doesn’t quite feel like the victory it did this morning. The familiar sour taste at the back of his throat is back, but he guesses it has little to do with a lingering concussion and more to do with what happened in the hangar just now.

Kalonia doesn’t start off by asking him questions, which—again—Poe appreciates. She sits down next to him on the bed. Her fingertips are light on his cheek when she checks his pupil response. She listens to his heart and lungs, takes his pulse.

“Headaches been bothering you?” she asks.

Poe shakes his head.

“Dizzy spells?”

“Not anymore.”

“When did your symptoms go away?” After a pause, during which she puts her flashlight back into her pocket and loops her stethoscope around her neck again, she adds, “I’m assuming they went away, because you never did come back for a final check-up.”

“Um,” Poe says, scratching the back of his neck. Dr. Kalonia reminds him of his grandmother sometimes; there are very few people in the galaxy who can inspire this amount of guilt in him this quickly. “I felt pretty good this morning?” He can’t help but add, “And in my defense, we’ve all been pretty busy.”

“From what my droids tell me, it seems you are perfectly capable of finding the time to stop by the med center for other reasons.”

Finn.

“Well, I mean, all’s fair in love and war, right?” Poe says. And then, “I am sorry, Doc.”

She smiles. “Don’t worry about it. Trust me, I would’ve known where to find you if I needed to.”

“That sounds vaguely threatening, Doc.”

“Good.” She sits back. “Look, Poe, I could run some more tests, but as far as I can tell there’s nothing physically wrong with you right now.”

“Clean bill of health, then,” Poe jokes.

“Not quite, I’m afraid.”

The doors slide open again.

“Oh,” Rey says, looking at Dr. Kalonia. “I’ll go.” She doesn’t move.

“It’s fine,” Poe says.

“I can wait.”

“It’s fine.”

Rey shrugs, then crosses the room and perches on the windowsill with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. There’s dirt under her fingernails. She smiles at Poe.

He smiles back at her.

“I don’t think there’s anything physically wrong with you,” Dr. Kalonia says. “I think you had a panic attack. A severe one.”

(MORE TALKING)

(KALONIA LEAVES)

Poe throws one arm over his eyes again. “Come over here?” he says, flinging out his other arm in Rey’s direction, palm upward.

It’s a suggestion, not a request. He and Rey have been thrust together through their mutual connection with Finn. They’ve been spending a lot of time at his bedside together. Poe still hasn’t figured Rey out, not entirely, and he’s pretty sure Rey still hasn’t figured him out, either. Rey is still figuring herself out, life on the Resistance base seeming both exciting and overwhelming to her.

The mattress dips under Rey’s weight. She leaves some space between their bodies, but she puts her hand on his stomach, pillows her head on his arm. He can hear her breathe, soft and calm.

“Are you okay?” she says eventually, cautiously. There’s something about the way she asks the question that briefly makes Poe’s chest feel like it’s caving in.

He clears his throat, says, “Yeah.”

He doesn’t sound very convincing. She doesn’t call him out on it.

“Wanna go outside?” she says. “It’s sunny. There’s fresh air, and trees.”

“Really,” Poe says.

She shoves him.

“Careful,” he says reflexively. “Don’t damage the goods.”

Rey says, unimpressed, “Seriously?”

Poe’s chest still hurts. He lets his arm slide off his face, presses the heel of his palm against his ribs. It doesn’t help.

“You know what, fresh air sounds pretty good,” he says, sitting up.

“Good call,” Rey says.

#coffee chats #star wars #scribbles #1k of poe angst for you my friend

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preciosaangelbby · 3 years

Text

Tarotscopes

♡Intuitive channeled messages from me to you ♡

Aries-

You're probably thinking about starting a new business or creative project. Something you can start from your house. You need to do some research and gather all the information you need and set everything up so once the time comes to present this to the world it will take off. This project is your destiny and will somehow connect you to your life purpose or life partner. People will be very supportive once they see what you got going on. Someone has been spying on your social media a bit thinking if they should come forth or not. They will most likely come running forth once they see the success in your project...this could give you the wrong idea that this person might want to use you but they come running back because they don't want to loose you even though you both are in the 3d acting like yall don't know each other.

Taurus-

I see yall updating your wardrobe maybe some new hair or aesthetic procedure. Probably kinda going on a diet kinda eatting healthier. All this is adding to your high vibe which is attracting people towards you. New and old people tryna slide into the dm. One person in particular is obsessing over you in secret wishing they made different moves but ya know they ain't good enough for you. Just watch out this person don't pop up later on to start some drama because they are super immature. Its extra important to focus on work right now because there's some kind of extra payout coming like a bonus check or a promotion! Oooo and for some of you there's someone thats been thinking about you who lives at a distance that wants to marry you which will make you an instant millionaire. 🤑🥰

Gemini-

Yall are trying to improve yourselves completely. Some of you are getting new better jobs and going back to school! Stay focused and take care of your mental health. Stay clear of problematic people especially these next few months because I see a nasty tower moment that will take you off your good path right now if you don't. Let go of all the toxic people in your life its not worth not being alone. I see yall meeting a more stable mature grounded partner soon when you're doing your own thing focusing on your growth when you least expect it. SPIRITUALLY CLEANSE yourself daily. 🧿

Cancer-

You're definitely going to get a message from an ex soon. Lol I see them tryna flex on you! They wanna win you back with a gift🎁. The way they are going to message you is going to be acting concerned about you working right now during a pandemic and are going to offer to take care of you. But oooooou I see some of yall already moved into a fresh connection. If you go back into this connection you may become depressed but at least you'll be well dressed. For male cancers who are well off, careful that a pretty face don't come back around to use you for money.

Leo-

Multiple people want to be in a committed relationship with you. Someone's gonna pop the question and this is going to be an over the top flashy proposal. I see an age gap. And there's jealous bitches talking shit. I see someone who pretends to be your friend talking shit about you with your persons ex. Cleanse yourself 🧿🧿🧿!

Virgo-

Watch out for two faced friends or like a masculine energy family member. This person is giving you some bad advice. I see yall waiting for something that you have to go out and look for yourself. This person giving you bad advice clearly doesn't have or know how to get what you want. Whatever advice they give you it benefits them some how. Could be advice towards purchasing something they can use instead of putting that money somewhere else first. They want you to feel stuck to control you or make themselves feel better. If yall are interested in learning something new or getting a certification for something, it will benefit you greatly. 🤓

Libra-

Ok I see yall started a new business venture some months back. You're just starting to see some profits coming in! You've been consistent growing this even though many people are discouraging you. Deep down inside these people are jealous and wish they weren't so lazy to do what you're doing. Don't get discouraged cuz obviously you're onto something and this was the right time...you'll see why very soon. There's going to be expansion at the right place right time. But lay off the fast food and take your vitamins! You're going to need all your energy cuz you will be so busy. 🏋🏻

Scorpio-

Yall are going back and fourth in your head about reaching out to someone you haven't spoken to in a while. It could be a love interest or an old business associate. For those of you working on a creative project, its stressful but will be so successful. Like next level successful. So many people will praise you for this. Its all great but I see yall living in your head a lot because something feels like it's missing. I see yall very determined to get whatever this missing thing is. I heard the words in my head "ain't no mountain high enough."

Sagittarius-

There's like a business deal with someone in another state or country that may be delayed or a deal that does not benefit you. Becareful of where you go and what you sign. You have a lot of social media stalkers too sending you evil eye. Cleanse yourself and surround yourself with good people that you know you can trust. I see you making good money during these next weeks! 🤑🤑🤑

Capricorn-

You're a little confused about taking a chance on something or someone. Go on the date...you're not broke. What are you going to waste? Not time because this person interests you. If a relationship doesn't come out of this you still had a date with an interesting person. Oh ok I see some kind of work drama or fued you had finally coming to a close and of course in your favor because you have some kind of a background in business law and words that cut like a knife. 😅

Aquarius-

There's a past person coming back around. This person has been obsessed. You're always on their mind. Someone you don't even think of anymore. They are loosing sleep over you! I'm getting low vibing Cancer or Capricorn vibes. Be aware of your surroundings cuz this person seems like they could do something crazy. 🤨🤔

Pisces-

Oooou making money moves and its paying off! Yeah like you have a new attitude towards work or doing something like what you were doing but tweeked it to perfection. Whatever you're doing is helping you find balance and making you look super attractive. You're glowing and people are noticing👁! I see mutual attraction between you and the person on your mind. 🌟❤

#tarot #tarotscope #aries #Taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #scorpio #libra #Aquarius #Sagittarius #pisces #Capricorn

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nafeary · 4 years

Note

Can I have some really short headcanons with MC spending time with the Ikevamp boys?

✧✎ A/N: Hiii sweets! As I’m dealing with pretty heavy topics right, both in life and writing (my cheating!mc headcanon, oh my), I decided to make this short fluffy one first. Make sure to drink water and to sleep well :))))

Also, these kept on getting longer (and longer and longer)... I dunno how that happened 🤷‍♀️

Napoleon Bonaparte

While you enjoyed accompanying the former emperor and Isaac to teach the children in town

Or going for tranquil evening strolls

Or watching him spar with Jean (HOT)

Both of your favourite past time by far was you waking him, and the cuddling that would always follow (among other... activities *wink wink*)

He’d nuzzle up against your neck, enklindling giggles from you as he protested about you wanting to help Sebastian with breakfast

You couldn’t bring yourself to care too much (sorry Sebas)

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Music is the centre of his life; but so are you

He had to learn to give you the attention you deserved, and he’d often wonder if you were were truly content with sitting beside him as he played

You’d love to watch the genius in action, humming and singing along when you happen to recognize his songs

If you don’t already know, he’d teach you to play the piano and the violin

And despite being the ever strict instructor, you’d often catch his tranquil simper as his hands would ghost over your own

Leonardo Da Vinci

After all your chores would be completed, you’d hunt down the Renaissance man

Which would be quite time consuming, as he could be anywhere. Literally.

Once you succeeded in your mission, you’d sit beside wherever he decided to sleep this time (sometimes with one of your heads resting on the other’s lap) and you’d talk. As simple as that

You were, of course, aware of the scientist’s unquenchable thirst for knowledge, and you were more than glad to tell him about everything you knew about your time in detail

In return, he’d find a way to charge your phone, as you always expressed the desire to show him actual pictures of your old life

Curious boi is impressed

Arthur Conan Doyle

If his girlfriend were to be a social butterfly, you’d probably enjoy tagging along with the third wheel Theo to their regular bars, sharing embarrassing anecdotes of each other

Both of you could often be seen taking Vic for a walk, and Arthur would, no fail, try to get your attention away from the dog acting as his love rival

You could only roll your eyes at his histeronic behavior as he pulled you close, hiding his flaming cheeks at your teasing

If you tend to be more quiet loving, you’d indulge in some alone time in his room [goddammit, not that type of indulging]. As you listened to his calming puffs or air, he’d sometimes ask you to read some of his drafts

Whatever the case was, it would always end with Arthur sweetly pecking your purses lips, a smile gracing his handsome face

Vincent Van Gogh

Wanderlust is a mutual feeling you two shared, and Theodorus had to come to terms with the fact that you two could disappear for hours to end

As soon as you two would find a stunning location, he’d unpack his painting supplies while asking you questions about your old life

You two preferred to stay until the sun would retire for the moon to reign, so that the artist’s canvas had the chance to dry

Sebas would always prepare some snacks for you two upon Comte’s suggestion (because Sugar Daddy takes care of his kids)

As the picnic blanket lay beneath you two, Vincent would pull you close, basking in the serene serenity of your embrace

Thedorus Van Gogh

Baking!

Whether you know or don’t know (in which case Sebastian would gladly help you out) how to cook, the others would find the resident couple in the kitchen as Theo judged your pastries

Of course, he might be mean about it, but that was just apart of him that you’ve learnt to live with; after all, you weren’t perfect either

You discovered that he preferred his sweets... well, sweet, so you have grown used to making two batches of every dough/custard/anything, really: one for you and the other residents, and one solely for him

He’d sometimes saunter behind you, swiftly swiping some saccharine cream onto his finger from a bowl you were currently using. Before you could utter your protests, he’d paint your lips with it, a smirk parading across his cheeks

Successfully shutting you up with a tooth rottingly sweet kiss, he’d say, “Your creations are quite delicious, wouldn’t you agree, knabbletje?” [Would you look at that, Food Play!Theo has returned]

Your knee joints were seemingly replaced by the jelly chilling in the basement

Dazai Osamu

When he’d require inspiration for his novels (or simply felt trapped in his own misery), he’d find himself looking across the vast expanse of le Comte’s land

And somehow, he’d find you more than often amongst the flowers, waving at him to join you

He’d assist you as you cared for the flowers, watching your lithe and nimble hands as they practically danced across the fields

A few butterflies would appear, and he somehow had the ability to make them land on his finger as he explained each of their meanings, explanations spanning from eastern culture to Native American even

You’re always so fixed on the little butterflies resting on him, the writer can’t help himself but kiss your forehead, the subsequent crimson staining your face eliciting such a calm expression from him that you can’t help but smile at his joy

Isaac Newton

As you were both more than busy during the day, you’d vacate your time as the first stars speckled the horizon, Isaac busying himself with mapping the stars

You’d sometimes ask him to teach you, but you tended to zone out as the lectures became more and more scientific and “can you please repeat that in English”-like

Despite the ire lining his voice when he noticed your blank stare, his pouting made it rather apparent that he didn’t mind

He’d scoff whenever you’d start with astrology. “But you’re determined, just like a Capricorn.” “That doesn’t mean anything.”

As more and more stars would appear, you’d catch yourselves gaze more into each other’s eyes than the sky, alabaster rays illumining your loving eyes

His research would be entirely forgotten as your head rested upon his shoulder, liking the prospect of your figurative weight resting on him

Jean d’Arc

You want to watch him spar

Soft boi doesn’t want you to watch him spar

You want to try using his foil

Soft boi doesn’t want you to try using his foil

More than adamant about not revealing his dark side (you couldn’t care less, him sparing was hot but you didn’t know how to bring that up)

As such, you’d ask him to go shopping with you, arguing that his presence would act as the perfect protection

Foolproof way to persuade the stoic soldier: Volume I

You’d enjoy spending time with him in quiet cafes, enjoying him struggle to contain his expressions of content upon trying all the delicacies

Stone on the outside, panic in the inside when you decided to lower yourself onto his lap, telling him that no one could see you two (soldier life did not prepare him for his flirty amour)

William Shakespeare

Stabbing is his favourite past time

To Theo’s disgust, whenever you and and his broer would visit THE creep, he’d often return alone, relying your wish of staying at his mansion for a little while longer

He’d be besotted by all the stories you relayed to him, all the anecdotes of modern life

As you saw his latest works, you were glad he wasn’t using the residents for his drama anymore

He also liked dancing with you, in the moment the clock would hit midnight. As you would both sway beneath the moon’s embrace, he had never felt more at peace

Comte de Saint-Germain

Sugar Daddy likes buying you stuff, that’s it. That’s the headcanon

Jk, but he genuinely enjoys the prospect of shopping clothes with you

He’d even draft some on his own (I mean, have you seen his fashion style? Yes babayyy). If you were a fan of design, you’d both make outfits for one another

Would buy you the best silk if you wanted it... would buy you holo fabric from the future if you wanted it

After your shopping would be done, you’d walk along the Seine, reminiscing about the times none of you have gotten to life in

He enjoyed having you in his office, allowing you to vent about noble ladies that thought they could do as they please and parade around your man

As your ire left your ears fuming, he’d muse how scrumptiously adorable your jealousy it

He’d probably lift you ontop his desk to show you that you had absolutely nothing to fear— if you get what I mean ;)

...What are you talking about? I wasn’t talking about that 🙄. He’d simply show you all the designs you’ve made together smh

Sebastian

Vampires were goddamn lucky creatures. They, unlike him, didn’t have to deal with those horrid muscle cramps

However, his pain was more than familiar to you. Thus, one evening, you proposed as you prepared for bed if he’d like a massage from you

It would... sometimes lead to other acts, but that’s a story for another time 🙃

...I- that’s- I was talking about him massaging her... I should probably omit these insinuations

Now, you’d also spent time by adjusting your (and Dazai’s) favourite Japanese dishes with ingredients the 19th century France granted

This would oftentimes lead to questionable results, but you two would laugh it off with mirth enjoying your company

I am physically unable to write a Theo without foodplay, or Dazai without angsty undertones

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wonderrdies · 4 years

Text

if love be rough with you - pt.1 (pypfc)

In which you and Harry are professors at a prestigious Art and Language university but can’t stand each other. Well, you can’t stand him.

disclaimer: I fucked up and won’t finish the thing in time for the pick your poison fic challenge (thank you and I’m sorry to @for-fucks-sake-h @oh-honey-styles @andwhenshesays) so I’ll split it into two parts. Once I post the second one, I’ll link it down here.

warnings: so far, so good. there’s gonna be fucking in the next one, though.

word-count: about 4,000 words

If love be rough with you, be rough with love.

Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.

(Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare)

Your copy of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet fell to the wooden floor of classroom 103 with a dull thud. It was not your favorite play by any means, but teachers didn’t get much of a choice when it came to the syllabus at Markham. Art and Language students there had been learning the same things for generations, walking through ancient hallways with the pretentiousness of people who know they’re special because of more than just daddy’s money.

Daddy’s money was still a big part of it, though. The fact you didn’t have it made it very obvious that, despite your mid-20s looking face, you were staff and not a student. Which, you said to yourself back when you started teaching at Markham, was fine. You made a mantra out of it in the beginning: It’s fine. I’m fine. When older professors and students didn’t take you seriously, when you were lonely, when the stone walls made you feel claustrophobia instead of wonder, when you had to begin working with Drama students instead of sticking to your comfort-zone in the Literature department. It’s fine. I’m fine. Three years later, it was true; you fit right in. You had learned to focus solely on the bright side of the school and the role you had to play, dressing and speaking and teaching like the classy and stone-faced intellectual you always wanted to be. With all your weaknesses safely tucked away, you felt like you probably were a better actress than most of your students.

Considering you were 20 minutes ahead of schedule and no one was ever this early for class, bending over in your pencil skirt to pick Romeo and Juliet up didn’t seem like a big deal. Until you heard the whistling.

“All this for me?”

You took your time standing up, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Don’t be gross,” you laid the book back on your desk, crossing your arms as you stared at the man by the door. “Professor Styles.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he flashed you a dry smile, but his green eyes showed amusement. “Darling.”

The eye-roll couldn’t be held back any longer. “Piss off.”

No need to say you weren’t a classy and stone-faced intellectual when it came to Harry Styles.

“Can’t piss off from my own classroom, can I?”

Seemingly not minding your frown, he walked into the room holding a worn leather case for what you could guess was an acoustic guitar. If he weren’t dressed in his usual expensive and obnoxious clothes, you’d be able to mistake him for a very handsome hobo.

“No, but you can piss off from mine,” you pointed to the metal numbers on the door. “We’re in 103, Styles. I have it for the next three hours.”

“Funny,” he said before laying his guitar on the desk. It pushed your book away until you had to grab it so it wouldn’t, once again, fall to the ground. “Because my schedule says that I have it for the next three hours.”

“Indeed,” Romeo and Juliet falls on leather harshly, the sound pretty similar to the one it made while hitting the floor. “Hilarious.”

The rumbling of what could only be a herd of students began before Harry could come up with any clever remarks, making his head turn to the door expectantly. His pearl necklace accompanied his movement, and you tried not to stare too hard at the expanse of his neck or imagine what it would look like with a couple of bruises under those pearls.

You snapped out of whatever that thought was before there was any need to overthink it. Over your colleague’s shoulder, you could see students, not all of them yours, entering the room. If it wasn’t clear before that there had been a mistake, it was now; Drama and Music students looked at each other suspiciously, whispering to their classmates like they were in primary school instead of university.

“Professor?” someone called. Both you and Harry turned to the desks arranged in a circle, all of them occupied. One of his students, standing on the corner, moved uncomfortably under your glare before speaking again: “Where should we seat? Is this a joint lesson or something?”

A joint lesson? You cringed at the idea. “No,” you said harshly. “There’s been a misunderstanding.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, his voice breezy when compared to yours. “We’ll sort it out, guys. Give us a few minutes.”

He made the two of you sound like a team, which was outrageous. The collar of your sleeveless turtleneck was, all of a sudden, way too tight.

“You look constipated,” he muttered under his breath so only you could hear him. “Let’s go outside.”

“What for?” But you were already following him to the hallway. “Look, just get another classroom.”

“Why don’t you, if it’s that simple?” Harry asked while you closed the door behind you.

“Because it’s a good classroom, the best in the building!”

“Is this how you plan on making me give it up?” He raised an eyebrow, leaning on the stone wall like he didn’t have a care in the world. He probably didn’t.

“Harry,” you sighed. Your hand went to the tiny gold cross in your neck, nervously messing with it. You knew you were about to start pacing like a madwoman. “You could play that guitar anywhere on campus. Just let me have the damn room, alright?”

“Do you think that’s all my lessons are?” He sounded upset.

A brief moment of guilt didn’t stop you from snapping at him. “Do you think I care?”

“No, I don’t,” Even though his voice remained calm, Harry straightened up. “I would never have such high expectations for you, darling.”

You looked at him with a blank stare. Those green eyes without a hint of malice, the soft brown curls of his hair, the delicate pearls over a pastel blue sweater that had a fucking baby chick on it; seeing him, it was hard to believe he could be mean enough to hurt you. But he had, so you went with the most mature and eloquent answer you could muster: “Whatever,” mumbled under your breath.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. “Let’s just go to the administration and get this shit over with.”

His tone, finally bordering on annoyed, gave you some satisfaction. Maybe you two had more in common than you thought.

—

Things between you and Harry hadn’t always been this hard. Back in university, among mutual friends and copious amounts of alcohol, he had been nicer. So had you. But Markham made the differences that seemed meaningless at 19 years old feel like deal breakers for any sort of healthy work relationship; his laid backness, so charming all those years ago, drove you insane now. He was a brilliant musician, of course, but was that really all it took? While you searched for the perfect balance between serious faculty member, approachable but slightly intimidating mentor, cultured academic, reliable friend and well-rounded human being, Harry simply seemed to always be a little late for everything that didn’t involve robbing you of your preferred classroom. Also, he flirted way too much, dressed like a sexy grandmother and never submitted grades when he was supposed to.

“Hey,” he said, then called your name softly. “I think that’s enough.”

For a second, you thought he meant enough reasons to dislike him. Then you looked down at your overflowing cup of water and the puddle forming on the teacher’s lounge counter.

“Fuck,” you hissed, putting the glass jar back in its place.

“That sounds familiar,” Harry sipped his coffee like he hadn’t just said that in a room filled with ancient Markham professors.

You were torn between giving him a death glare or ignoring him altogether, so you just settled for a death glare directed at no one in particular while you wiped your wet hand on the side of your black skirt.

“Professors,” greeted one of the Plastic Arts teachers, a sweet-looking old lady. She walked up to the counter so she could pour her coffee, standing between you and Harry in the process. “I take it the 103 debacle hasn’t gone smoothly.”

“Yeah, Mrs. Thomas,” Harry said, a playful smile suddenly on his lips. “Someone here doesn’t know when to give up.”

“Don’t talk about yourself in the third person, Professor Styles. It’s not cute.”

Mrs. Thomas laughed like the two of you were performing a stand-up comedy show. “God, you two are adorable.”

You frowned while she walked away, and even though Harry’s smile stayed plastered on his face, you could see the furrow between his brows. “Adorable?” he asked, voice low. “You?”

“Piss off,” you said for the second time that day.

The 103 debacle, as your elder colleague so eloquently put, hadn’t gone smoothly. At all. Administration admitted to making a mistake and offered, oh so kindly, to relocate one of you to an empty classroom upstairs. Both Harry and you just stood there, looking at each other as if saying “Well, there you go” and waiting for the other to eagerly take room 214. Dark, humid, cold and small 214. After a couple of minutes of painfully awkward silence, the secretary responsible for room assignment suggested a sort of alternation: since the conflicting lessons were taught twice a week, Harry could get 103 on Mondays and you could have it on Thursdays. Neither of you liked the idea, but no amount of “But Sophie…” would change her mind once she came up with a supposedly perfect solution.

“She’s only saying that because she hasn’t seen your eye twitching while you try to refrain from having a mental breakdown over a classroom,” he said, ignoring the fact you had just told him off. Harry leaned in, annoying smirk on his lips, so only you would hear him when he said: “You can be adorable when you’re whining for more, though.”

He was too close, and you could smell the cologne on the collar of the shirt he wore under his sweater. It was vanilla, sweet and strong like he had been before he turned out to be the kind of guy who insulted you and bragged about having fucked you, all in the same breath.

“Classy, Styles,” you drank the rest of your water in one gulp so you could get rid of the cup and put some distance between the two of you. He just smelled too good. “You shouldn’t be so quick to make fun of my eye twitch, though. I wasn’t the one using “the humidity in 214 is bad for my hair” as an argument.”

“I hate that room,” Harry muttered as you walked away.

Well, that made two of you.

—

“So here’s what we’re going to do,” you announced to your students. Sunshine flooded the room, casting light on their focused expressions. “You’re going to go through act one again and select a snippet of text so that we can discuss it, and you have to make it so your point —” A determined knock on the door interrupted you. Before you could say anything at all, about a dozen people entered room 103 as if it were expected from them to do so. Strangely, it took you a second too long to realize where you knew most of those faces from: three days ago, they were among your own students as they waited for their professor. One by one, they sat in rows on the floor just like they would in actual desks. None of them made a sound. “Make it so your point about the chosen quote is character-driven,” you continued, choosing to simply not acknowledge any disturbance for a moment.

Still, there were twelve too many sets of eyes looking up at you. It was unsettling. For the next few minutes, there was a silent agreement between you and the Drama students; the lesson proceeded as they exchanged puzzled looks while pretending to skim the first act of Romeo and Juliet and you anxiously played with your cross necklace. What kind of sick mind game was Harry trying to play here? You wish you knew what reaction he was expecting, only so you could deliver the exact opposite of it.

“You have ten more minutes,” you said, reminding your students. A few of them nodded as they took notes, but the people sitting on the floor remained quiet and still, eyes on you. “What do you want?” you blurted out.

“What do you mean?” a girl asked, and you could tell they were expecting you to continue pretending they weren’t there until the lesson was over. Bingo.

“I mean, what is your goal? Did your professor send you here just to spite me? Is he wasting your time as well as mine? Or are you supposed to learn something by attending my class without my previous consent?”

By then, your own students had dropped their books and were waiting for one of the Music kids to speak up.

“Today’s lesson is about civil disobedience and other forms of rebellion and how they relate to the cultural and/or artistic aspects of music,” the same girl said. You couldn’t help but admire the way she took the lead, just as you couldn’t help but question Harry’s methodology.

“What’s your name?”

“Kate.”

“Kate, don’t you think this exercise fails to convey the gravity of civil disobedience? The environment seems a little low-stakes, to be honest.”

“Having low stakes is what makes it an experiment, though,” someone else muttered from behind Kate.

“You can speak up”, you said. “And yes, it’s an experiment, but it still feels too far-fetched, not even close to a parallel. Once you’re done with the lesson, you should let me know how Professor Styles managed to turn this into a Thoreau analogy. Maybe he should have just taught you how to play Another Brick In The Wall and called it a day.”

Some of the Drama students snickered from their desks, but Harry’s class didn’t seem to find you amusing at all. Oh, well. You couldn’t please everyone.

“Since you’re already here, you’re going to learn something. It’s unrelated to civil disobedience but that’s not really my fault, is it? Find a partner that’s actually enrolled in the class about narrative elements in Drama; work on the passage together, from a character-focused perspective, and see if you can relate any of it to your knowledge about art and culture in general. I’m certain someone has taught you about that, even if Professor Styles couldn’t.”

There was a beat of silence, all twenty-four of them staring at you hesitantly.

“Well? Get to work.”

And so they did.

—

You zipped up your bag, mind already drifting to the bottle of wine and comfortable blankets waiting for you back home, when someone’s knuckles tapped the door to the classroom. It was neither 103, with its smooth stone walls onto which you could project any material necessary with perfect lighting, or 214, with its moldy smell, but a perfectly decent middle-ground. You had just taught your last lesson of the first week of the semester to a group of eager Literature first-years and even though you were much better at it now than when you first began, it wasn’t an easy job by any means. Shoulders aching with tension, you turned to the door.

“No,” you said before Madeline could utter a single word. She was your sweetest colleague, and also technically your boss. Madeline was the head of the Literature department and the person who recommended you to the head of Drama when they needed someone to teach a couple of classes on the narrative aspects of plays the students would later perform. Even when you hesitated to take the job and said you weren’t experienced enough to do it, she wouldn’t take no for an answer; Madeline was the closest thing you had to a mother in Markham, always toeing the line between authority and encouragement.

But she would have to take no for an answer now, because you knew that face. And contrary to her motherly status, she wanted you to go out for happy hour. “Just one drink,” she didn’t even bother denying it. “Everyone’s coming.”

“Everyone who?”

“Everyone!”

Everyone almost certainly didn’t involve faculty over 65, so that left you with less than ten people total. You decided not to bring it up since Madeline could get sensitive about age talk. She was 58 and absolutely outraged by people over 60 that started “acting like they had already dropped dead”. Her words.

“Professor Styles will be there,” and then she wiggled her eyebrows. Oh my God.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you said, offended, grabbing your purse. You turned off the lights and closed the door, all while she played dumb.

“Nothing, really,” Madeline said with a shrug. “Thought it might be nice to hang out with a fellow young intellectual, ‘s all.”

“Oh, spare me.”

“You could also figure your shit out before HR needs to get involved,” she paused to see your reaction. There was none. “Just a thought.”

“HR? Are you for real?”

“No,” she said, honestly. “But the two of you can’t keep this up forever, honey. It’s entertaining to watch, but it looks exhausting. You should put an end to whatever this is, if only so you can have a little more peace of mind. You’re both smart people trying to get their job done, that’s all.”

You didn’t say a word. You didn’t want to fight Madeline on this. Harry was… complicated. You hadn’t seen him at all since yesterday’s class and even though you were proud of how you handled the situation at first, you couldn’t help but second guess every move you made while his students were in your classroom. Maybe you should have just made them leave. Maybe you shouldn’t have questioned Harry’s authority so explicitly by saying it was a bad exercise.Maybe you should have just pretended they weren’t there at all. Maybe you should have walked up to Harry himself and thrown a fit because he disturbed your lesson.

But there was no use dwelling on what should have been. In the end, the lesson was actually productive. Fun, if you might say so yourself. His students proved themselves to be very reasonable people, and the contrast between their perspectives as musicians and those of your students, as actors or future playwrights, contributed to multiple interesting discussions.

“Just one drink,” you found yourself saying to Madeline, not that it mattered. You were already walking together towards the parking lot, where her car was, instead of your usual route.

“That’s my girl.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked by her side, your black heels making it hard for you to walk on the gravel of the parking lot. The uncomfortable shoes, unfortunately, played a big part in your whole “fake it ‘till you make it” brand of confidence.

—

The whole table shifted as you and Madeline walked into the pub. You could see Harry from the corner of your eye, fuzzy cream sweater and lilac pants, the shadow of laughter still on his lips from whatever joke was being told before you walked in.

Two more chairs were placed at random spots, and before you could say anything you were squeezed in between Harry and another professor from the Music department, with Madeline four seats away. This had been a terrible idea. Your thighs were pressed together, the rough fabric of his pants rubbing against your skin; there was no move you could make without somehow touching him.

“Hey,” Harry said quietly, turning to you. You could feel his warm breath on your cheek. “Did you have a nice class yesterday?”

Despite all the imaginary fights you had with him on the last 30 hours, you smiled. Harry Styles had some nerve. “Which one? I teach a few classes everyday, Professor.”

He laughed under his breath even though you both knew you weren’t a particularly funny person. “You know what? You are adorable.”

You could feel your cheeks flaming instantly. He rendered you speechless for a couple seconds, each one making his smirk grow. You licked your lips and then, with less confidence than you’d like, you said: “I know. Still not as adorable as your little backfiring prank, though.”

“First of all,” he started, still with that damn smirk. “It wasn’t a prank, it was an exercise.”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“It was! And it absolutely did not backfire. Shouldn’t you know what backfiring means? Aren’t you a book expert or whatever?”

“Very cute, Styles.”

He murmured a ‘thank you’, choosing to ignore your dripping sarcasm. It drove you crazy.

Someone cleared their throat, and you realized as soon as you looked up that the whole table was waiting for your order and most definitely paying attention to yours and Harry’s conversation. Your face burned even hotter while you stuttered out the name of your cocktail.

Your first cocktail, that is. As a storm started outside, one drink turned into two, then three.

“I should get going,” Madeline said at some point, half the table already gone. Even with all the extra space, you and Harry had shown no intention of moving. “Do you need a ride, honey?”

You thought of your empty kitchenette, a few miles south of Markham, and all the time it would take her to drive you home and back to her house, and her family, under such a downpour. A quick “No, thank you” and she was gone. You turned to the nearest window, your arm brushing Harry’s in the process, to watch the storm outside and figure out if the weather would make it impossible for you to leave, which meant you had made a terrible decision by declining the ride. Sure enough, it was pitch black and the rain was as violent as ever. Oh, well.

“You have goosebumps.”

“Huh?”

“You have goosebumps,” Harry repeated himself, laughing a little. As opposed to you, he hadn’t had a single drink to slow his thinking. “Are you cold?”

“Yeah,” but you weren’t. Through your protests, he took the beige coat hanging on his chair and draped it across your shoulders. Once you shivered at the touch of his fingertips, there was no lying anymore.

Harry raised an eyebrow, and you didn’t know what was more infuriating: his smirk, the amazing smell on his absurdly fashionable coat or your uncalled-for horniness, so you decided to ignore all of them. “There’s really no need, Styles,” you said quietly, already reaching to give him back his coat. “I need to get home.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not driving.”

“Well,” he scoffed. “Obviously.”

You furrowed your brows, suddenly very glad you couldn’t see the drunk pout that had just formed in your lips. “Bye, then.”

He grabbed your hand before you could take off his jacket. “No. Let me take you.”

“No fucking way,” you protested. Realizing the three or four remaining coworkers at the table were paying attention to your conversation, you continued much more calmly: “Thank you, though.”

“Come on, Professor,” he teased. “I owe you this one, I guess.”

The gin made him sound so reasonable. He did owe you one, for being such a jerk at all times through the don’t-give-a-shit attitude and how he often brought up that stupid fucking night. Not to mention the 103 debacle and the disruptive prank. He owed you many, actually.

“I guess?” It sounded more aggressive in your head, but that would do.

So you both said your goodbyes and left, his expensive coat hanging off your back while you walked to his expensive car, as if whatever was his were meant to be shared with you simply because you looked good in it.

part 2 !

#pick your poison fic challenge #for-fucks-sake-h #oh-honey-styles #andwhenshesays #pypfc #mine #harry styles #harry styles fic #enemies to lovers

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