.Ëđ⊠Ęïœ„Ë đ.đ»đ¶đ±đ° Ęâ§đË. likes your happy trail & đđđđ!? đđ+ đđ đđ ê° đđđ!đđđđ đđ âźâź reader has body hair âźâź touching / playing with your happy trail & bush âźâź đđđđ f. rec âźâź pussy worship ê±
You were curled into the solid warmth of Tojiâs arm. His thick bicep cradled your head like a pillow made just for you. The steady beat of his heart thumped slow against your cheek. Your phone glowed soft in your hands as you scrolled through the never ending âfor youâ page lazily.
His other hand rested heavy on the soft curve of your tummy. Right under your navel. Thick fingers tracing the fine line of hair that grew there. Your apparent happy trail. It started soft and sparse then thickened lower. Disappearing into the waistband of your panties where dense curls covered your cunt completely.
Toji never minded the hair. The man was touch driven in every way and your bush had become his favourite fidget every time his hand wandered naturally to your cunt. He'd pet it for hours. Twist the curls around his fingers. Tugging at them gently like the texture calmed something restless in him.
Tonight his focus stayed locked on the sparse curls under your navel. He kept pulling at the soft strands. A little too hard. The constant tugging started to sting in a way that made your skin sensitive. You shifted against his body. Slid your own fingers down and covered his hand, trying to hinder him ever so slightly.
He ignored your attempts and pushed your hand away at once. Voice low and rough against your hair. âlet me play with it.â
You exhaled once, deeply and tried again. Fingertips brushing of his knuckles. He swatted them off without looking down where his hands were. This little struggle continued for a couple minutes between you. Soft laughs mixed with quiet protests. Your hand kept nudging, his kept shoving you aside.
Eventually he grew tired of this little game. The bed dipped as he sat up. Cool air rushed in where his body had been.
âWhere are you going?â you asked. Voice soft with curiosity, a little sadness mixed in as if you were disappointed he was leaving you now.
He picked up on it instantly but didn't bother to give you an answer. His emerald eyes flicked towards your face silently, then to your upper torso. Instead, he moved between your thighs. Heavy hands settled on either side of your waist. He lowered his face to your tummy. Warm breath ghosted over your skin first. Then his tongue dragged slowly and wet across your navel. He sucked at the soft flesh. Pulled it between his lips and kissed it open-mouthed and deep.
You squirmed. Palms pressing soft to his face. Trying to push him back. âtojiâŠâ
He murmured against your belly. The words vibrating into your skin. âWhat donât like me appreciating you even if you havenât shaved, Doll? you know I donât mind⊠hair and all..â
Heat flooded your cheeks and lower. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down in one smooth motion. You lifted your hips without thinking. Cool air kissed your uncovered cunt. Thick curls dark and full. Completely natural. His lips tugged into a lazy smile looking at your pussy like itâ you, were something precious.
He looked up at you. Green eyes dark with hunger. "Can't help it doll. You're too fucking perfect."
Toji kissed down your plush mound. Slow and tenderly. His tongue licked over the hair. Wetting the strands until it glistened with his saliva. Big hands caressing your thighs then parting them wider, he spread your folds open with his thumbs. Exposed your clit. Then lower, his mouth found your soft slick cunt completely.
Your grip loosened on the phone and it fell without a care onto the bed. Fingers tangled tight in the sheets instead. His tongue lapped at your cunt in broad hungry strokes. Focused and endlessly circling your clit. Dipping further. Inside, tasting every fold. Your thighs trembled around his head. Soft moans spilled from your lips.
A single hair got caught on his tongue during one deep lick. He didn't stop or pull away. As a man who knew your body by heart, he simply licked the soft skin of your inner thigh. Cleared it off without a word. Then returned to eating you like nothing had happened. You loved when he did that, it kinda tickled. The quiet care hidden inside the filth. The way he made sure you never felt self-conscious for even a second.
He kept going. Tongue relentless on your slick-sweet flesh, pleasure building sharp and overwhelming as your hips rolled against his mouth. Hands fisting the sheets harder. The wet sounds of him licking filled the quiet room, moaning into you like he was the one being spoiled.
Toji didn't stop until you came hard. Body arching off the bed. Thighs clamping around his head. Waves of heat crashed through you while he drank every bit of it. Slow licks easing you down from the peak, till your fingers lifted and found their way into raven hair, clutching tight at the strands till he groaned.
He crawled back up your body. Kissed you deep and slow. The taste of you still strong on his tongue. Between the kisses he whispered against your lips. âYou never have to shave if you donât want to.. I love you either way.â
His arms wrapped around you again. Pulling you tight against his chest. The moment settled back into warmth and perfection. His hand drifted back to your tummy. Fingers resting gentle on that happy trail once more. This time you let him play as long as he wanted.
Toji pulled the blanket over both of you. His fingers traced idle patterns through your curls again. But lighter now. Content. You let him. Because with him it never felt like something to hide. It felt like being free.
Eventually his breathing evened out. Yours followed. Yet every so often his hand would dip lower. Brush through the thick hair covering your cunt. A quiet reminder. He loved you like this. Hair and all.
You drifted off with his scent surrounding you. His body heat warmed you perfectly. Keeping you close to him, safe and wanted.
âź brother's bsf!toji accidentally catches you shaving â and he's really not happy about it.
"what the fuck are you doing?" toji, your brother's best friend was standing in the doorway, one hand still on the knob and his eyes covered by the other while he rubbed his forehead. he was wearing gray sweatpants and a beat-up t-shirt, his hair all messy from like yet another gaming session with your brother.
the bathroom door wouldn't lock â you had been meaning to tell your mom about it for weeks, but always forgot until moments like this, when you were sitting on the closed toilet lid with your legs wide open, a razor in one hand and shaving cream in the other, and the door just flew open without a knock.
you drop the razor, your cheeks burning like crazy, but to your own surprise, you don't snap your legs shut. it was already too late anyway, right? he already saw everything. "i could ask you the exact same thing," you snapped back.
you totally expected him to make a weird face and bail, leaving you to avoid him for the rest of your life every time you remembered this humiliation. but instead, he just steps inside, kicks the door shut, and you hear the click of the lock â the one that never actually worked, but he just jams it in place with his thumb.
"don't tell me you're about to shave all that off." "it's none of your damn business." "nah, it totally is," he said. "when you're sitting here about to destroy a masterpiece." "what?" "this right here." he nods down at your pussy, the hair damp from a bit of the cream you put on. "that bush. that damn gorgeous bush between your legs."
you glance down, cheeks burning. "it's ugly. some guy said it looks gross." "some dumbass guy who doesn't know shit. they don't know what a real gem looks like. they just want bald little chicks. you know what a man wants?"
your mouth goes dry. "a woman," he says. "a woman with hair between her legs. a woman who looks like she can take a real fucking cock."
"spread your legs." something in his voice makes you obey immediately. your thighs slowly part, and you watch his gaze drop to the dark hair between them. "fuck," he breathes. "look at that. and you wanted to take that away from me."
"i didn't know yâ"
"that i what? that i wanted this sweet pussy so bad that i was jerking off in your brother's guest room thinking about it?"
he takes a step forward, drops to his knees on the bathmat in front of you, and puts his hands on your hips. his thumbs stroke your soft skin, spreading your legs even wider. "you let some stupid little kid convince you this was ugly," he says right against your skin. "let me show you what it actually is."
his mouth finds you, a hot tongue slides along your folds, parting the coarse hair, licking you slowly and deeply. you let out a gasp, your fingers digging into the edge of the toilet seat. "nngh!" "mmnh," he hums right against you, and the vibration makes your thighs shake. he groans into your pussy, pulling your swollen clit right through the curls. "tastes damn good. this pussy has been driving me insane every single time you walk around the house."
"ahh!... oh god..." "like that, rub against my face. let me eat this sweet pussy the way it deserves." he moves his fingers faster, his tongue slapping and sucking, and sloppy wet sounds fill the tiny bathroom. "m-mnh... fuck, you're so soaked. this little bush is soaking wet, dripping right down on my chin. "i sai... ah! â i didn't know... nggh!" he buries his face even deeper, his nose pushing right into the coarse hair, his tongue clicking fast and wet against your clit. you're already completely soaked â you can feel it, your juices dripping out of you.
"that's it, babe. let me taste this sweet pussy. show you what a real man does with a perfect pussy like this." "ah! haaâah! ... toji!..." his thick fingers find you, sliding right inside with zero resistance â one, then two. he curls them, pushing upward while his tongue works your clitoris in tight circles, and your vision starts going white. your hips jerk forward, your knees trembling around his head.
"oh... fuck..." "do you like that, babe? do you like my fingers in that tight little hole?" " yeah... yeah... please..." "what about this?" he drags his tongue flat through your wet folds, from your asshole up to your clit, tasting every inch, and you cry out so loud you're sure the whole house can hear.
"m-mmnh! t-tojiâ!nnnâ! " "shh, shh, i know, baby. i know. let me eat you out. let me have this pretty cunt."
he goes back to your clit, sucking, flicking, while his fingers fuck you slow and deep. his other hand grips your thigh, hard enough to bruise, and you can feel his breath hot against your skin, his stubble scraping your inner thighs.
"fuck, you're so wet, baby. so fucking wet for me. your pussy knows who it belongs to, doesn't it?" "yeâ nngh! yes! yes! it's yours! haah!"
"that's right. this pussy is mine. this bush is mine. and you wanted to shave it off like it was nothing."
he pulls his fingers out and brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean, and the sight of it â his lips wrapped around his own fingers, tasting you â makes your pussy clench around nothing. "on the floor."
"what?" "i said, on the floor. i wanna eat you properly."
you slide off the toilet onto the mat, and he pulls you to the edge, your ass on the fluffy rug, your legs up on his shoulders. he looms over you on his knees, looking down from above â his chin all messy with your juices, dripping right down his neck.
he eats you like he'd been starving his whole life â his tongue wide and flat, stroking your whole pussy, tasting every single fold, every drop of wetness. he zeroes in on your clit, lips tightly sealed around it, his tongue moving so fast your hips lift right off the floor.
"nngh! ah!... iâ i'm gonna..." "hell no, not yet."
he slides two fingers back inside you, crooked up, pressing against that rough patch that makes stars burst behind your eyes. he fucks you with them while his mouth works your clit, and the combination is too much â your thighs clamp around his head, your hands grip his hair, and you're coming, screaming, your body convulsing against his face.
"haâhaa!! toâtoji! nngahââ!" "that's it, baby. cum for me. cum all over my tongue."
he doesn't stop. he keeps licking, keeps sucking, drawing out every wave of you until you're shaking and oversensitive, trying to push his head away. "too much, it's too muchâ"
"shh, shh." he slows his tongue, gentles it, laps at you softly. "i know, baby. i know. you did so good. such a good girl, coming on my face like that."
he presses soft kisses to your inner thighs, your bush, your clit â too sensitive, you flinch â and then your stomach, nuzzling against your skin. "look at this," he murmurs. "made such a mess all over my face."
he pulls his dripping fingers out of you and sits back on his heels. you watch, still dazed, as he pushes down the waistband of his grey sweats.
his thick cock springs free â hard, wet at the tip. he wraps his hand around it, and you watch him stroke himself once, twice, before he brings your soaked fingers â his fingers, still covered in you â to his own cock.
"fuck," he groans, smearing your juice all over his shaft. "that's it. grease up my cock with your sweet pussy."
"he rubs himself with your juices, throwing his head back, his jaw tight. you watch his moving hand, his twitching cock, and your mouth fills with saliva.
he pulls his fingers out, tucks his cock back into his pants â it's still hard, you can see it â and stands up. he looks down at you, sprawled out on the bathroom floor, with wet thighs and a bush matted with his spit. he reaches for the door, then stops. "don't lock the door tonight. i ain't done with my pussy yet."
in which; ryomen sukuna is stubborn and completely obsessed with his ex. he canât seem to understand why sheâs so angry with him, and why she wonât take him back. one thing he knows for sure though, is that despite her anger; heâs still not blocked. what was that saying his mother used to say again; closed mouths donât get fed? thatâs for certain, ryomenâs mouth is open and begging y/n to take him back.
cw!: none, just a text fic. (i feel like sukunaâs ooc, but itâs hard to apply a character like him into a modern setting. i think heâs a very interesting character and thereâs alot of his qualities you could focus on rather than just the fact thatâs heâs angry, heâs definitely a character who fixates on something when he wants it (his obsession with megumi, for example.))
you knew what you were getting into when you started dating sukuna; you knew the rep that surrounded him and the rumors that would follow. but some part of youâalbiet a rather stupid partâ thought that it wouldn't matter. you were in love, weren't you? at least that's what it felt like for some short time. those times quickly faded and were replaced by mere late night hookups and even later phone calls after days of radio silence from him.
today just happened to be one of the days where he stumbled back to your apartment and into your arms. perhaps another version of you would believe that he always came back to you because he loved you. now, as you look as his disheveled appearance and smell the perfume of another girl, you truly don't know what to think.
"hey, baby." he slurs over his words and the smile on his face would have had you fooled a couple of months ago. but you know better by now. and yet, you still don't push him away when he leans in for a kiss and walks into your apartment as if he owns the place. he pulls away from your lips but his hands stayed on your hips, preventing you from moving away. âyâknow i love u right, baby?â sukuna says. maybe you would believe him if you couldnt practically taste the alcohol on him. in other circumstances, you wouldve thought he was really looking at you like he loved you. too bad you could see how red his eyes were. and if you looked even closer, you could see some remnants of glitter on his skin.
 it wasn't a shocker that sukuna was going to clubs and making out with other girls. you've seen the posts, heard the stories, and you've grown numb to it now. it's not like what you had with sukuna was official anyways. he could call you his girlfriend all he wanted and vice versa, but nothing would change the fact that what you had was not a relationship.
you put your hands over his and force his hands off of you. he practically whines at the loss of touch but you try to stay firm.
"what are you doing here, sukuna?" you ask.
"came to see my girl," sukuna says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "what's so wrong with me coming to visit you?"
because you never do unless your drunk off your ass, you think to yourself. you contemplate voicing your thoughts but decide against it. you were already exhausted and the last thing you wanted to deal with was the man standing in front of you vying for your touch. you contemplate calling one of his frat brothers to come pick him up, not wanting to deal with him tonight but his voice pulls you out of your thoughts.
"i feel like we never see each other anymore," he mutters, a frown prominent on his face.
"and who's fault is that?"
"are you mad at me or something?"
you rub your temples in an effort to ease the growing headache, "i'm just tired sukuna-"
"you never call me that unless your mad."
"it's your name, sukuna," you respond, emphasizing on his name causing his scowl to deepen. he's quick to step into your space and pull you into a hug once more, one you don't return. you feel him mutter something in the crevice of your neck. "what are you doing?"
"i said i love you," he repeats louder. "you never said it back."
"maybe tell me when your sober and i will."
"but im saying it now."
you push him away once more, making sure to keep him at an arm's length away now. "but you never mean it, do you?" his silence tells you everything you need to know. you sigh and drag him to the couch before pushing him onto the cushions. "you can stay here for the night but you're out of here when i wake up, understand?"
"you don't mean that, pretty baby," he smirks groggily, getting comfortable on your couch.
he's right, you didn't. but he didn't need to know that for now. you would deal with his ass in the morning. you toss a throw blanket on his face, "go to sleep, ryo."
before you get a chance to walk away, he grabs your wrist, "sleep with me?" the man is practically passed out but his grip is still a little firm. even then, it takes little effort from you to pry his fingers from your wrist. he's practically snoring by the time you've walked away. you pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts until you land on toji's. you text him, knowing damn well he wouldn't answer a phone call, and head to your bedroom.
you
i need you to get sukuna out of my apt
toji doesn't respond until ten minutes later and answers with only a thumbs up. you stay up long enough to hear the knock on your door and open it to find toji and shiu. they greet you lightly and move to sukuna, who was passed out and drooling on your couch. toji and shiu hoist him up, one of sukuna's arms on each of their shoulders so they are carrying him in between.
"is this your way of ending it officially?" toji asks, adjusting his grip on sukuna's arm, ignoring his unconcious grumbles.
"i'll shoot him a text or something in case this isn't obvious enough. get him to pick up his shit tomorrow," you shrug off, trying to come off as indifferent as possible.
shiu whinces, "ouch- harsh even for this asshole."
you narrow your eyes, "if you're going to defend him, i should've just dragged him and left him out there."
"and he would've deserved every last bit, sweetheart," toji says. him and shiu move for the door but just before they leave, toji looks at you over his shoulder. "i know he doesn't make it seem like it, but he really does love you, yn."
you shake your head softly but you do your best to give him a smile. "goodnight toji. night shiu." they bid you farewell and you close the door. you take out your phone from your pocket and click on sukuna's contact. you spend too much effort crafting the message and too much time re-reading it. you hit send before you have a chance of backing out and block him quickly after.
it's over ryomen. ill have your stuff ready for you in the morning.
creds!! divider by @/chrisssiren
taglist!! @cttelina @bunbun812 @oksukuna @kriitee @bleepybl00p @sailormarsinanotherlife @sushikuna @icebearcucumber
an!! "its been a year daddy" ahh post (ïœĄâąÌïžżâąÌïœĄ) im sorry for my lack of posts guys,, im having a major writing slump
My favourite fic you have ever written is (and will always be) unfortunately yours I just love the way you write the characters heck I love your writing style in general đ
Will there still be a chance you will write drabbles for that series when your free as I am currently getting withdrawal symptoms đ„ș
àŒâ.Ë unfortunately, still yours | part one
synopsis: you came back from morocco with sand in your suitcase, a ruined sleep schedule, and a man in korea who somehow became yours. long-distance is cuteâuntil real life starts taking bites, jungkook goes quiet, your old wounds start screaming, and suddenly loving someone across time zones feels a lot harder than sharing a bed in essaouira.
âïžïž pairing: jeon jungkook x reader
âïžïž genre/warning: post-canon, established relationship, long-distance, modern au, sunshine x grumpy, hurt/comfort, soft angst, abandonment anxiety, past relationship trauma, insecurity, swearing, smut (18+)
âïžïž word count: 2.7k
âïžïž playlist âïžïž series masterlist âïžïž main masterlist âïžïž taglist closed
England does not welcome you home so much as damply tolerate your return.
The sky is grey when your plane lands. A flat, exhausted grey that makes every window look dirty and every person in the arrivals queue look personally betrayed.
Morocco feels impossible already, like something you dreamed after too much sun and not enough common sense. Agadirâs blue water. Essaouiraâs wind. The Marina lights breaking over black water like scattered gold. Jungkookâs forehead pressed to yours.
And then England gives you a delayed train, a lukewarm station pastry, and rain that somehow falls sideways.
Romance is dead. Long live National Rail.
By the time you finally get home, your suitcase is bruised, your hair has given up, and the sky outside your window is doing that very British thing where it gets dark at 4:30pm just to humble everyone.
You dump your bag in the hallway, kick your shoes off, and stand there for a second in the quiet. No waves. No gulls. No hotel corridor where his door is right across from yours.
Just the low hum of the fridge, the radiator ticking, and the faint sound of rain tapping against the glass.
Your phone buzzes. You look down so fast itâs embarrassing.
jungkook: alive?
Your chest does the stupid thing. You smile before you can stop yourself.
You: barely. public transport almost killed me
jungkook: deserved
You: wow
jungkook: you abandoned morocco. consequences
You: you also left morocco
jungkook: yeah but i looked sadder doing it
You laugh out loud in your hallway, still wearing your airport hoodie, still half-damp from British rain, and suddenly home doesnât feel quite as hollow.
At first, long-distance is cuteâannoyingly cute. The kind of cute that makes you understand why people become unbearable when theyâre in relationships.
You and Jungkook fall into a rhythm neither of you planned but both of you start depending on. Morning messages. Late-night calls. Random photos sent without context.
He sends you a picture of a vending machine coffee from work with the caption:
jungkook: pharmaceutical industry glamour
You send back a Tesco meal deal laid out on your desk like fine diningâegg & cress sandwich, ready salted crisps, peach iced tea.
You: british cultural education
jungkook: that looks like a cry for help
You: itâs called lunch
jungkook: no itâs called national decline
He sends gym mirror pictures at indecent hours. Black vest, tattooed arm, hair damp, expression aggressively neutral like he doesnât know exactly what heâs doing.
You respond with a photo of your kettle boiling.
You: calm down. some of us are in our domestic era
jungkook: did you just send me a kettle to humble me
You: yes
jungkook: effective
Sometimes he calls after work, voice low and tired, Seoul already dark behind him while youâre eating breakfast in yesterdayâs hoodie. Sometimes you call from bed, phone propped against a pillow, England dark and wet outside your window while he drinks coffee before an early shift, hair still damp from the shower.
You learn his routines.
He starts work stupidly early. He drinks coffee like itâs a legal requirement. He hates when people donât follow proper safety procedures in the lab but says it with the exhausted passion of a man who absolutely had to stop someone doing something idiotic near controlled substances.
âYou know,â you tell him one evening, curled under your duvet while rain scratches at the window, âyou really donât look like a pharmaceutical man.â
He lifts an eyebrow through the screen. Heâs in his kitchen, black t-shirt, damp hair, silver hoops glinting under the harsh overhead light. âWhat does a pharmaceutical man look like?â
âI donât know,â you say. âLess likely to be searched at airport security.â
He snorts. âI pass every time.â
âBecause they donât expect the pierced tattooed one to be talking about production compliance and quality assurance.â
âExactly,â he says. âCamouflage.â
You grin. âLab coat by day. Airport menace by dawn.â
âYouâre still mad about the seat.â
âYou stole my window.â
âIt was printed on my boarding pass.â
âDetails.â
He smiles then, small and helpless, and you feel it all the way across the distance.
You learn little things that make him more real.
He has a younger brother who sends him memes and asks for money with no shame. His mother calls him if he doesnât reply by 9pm. His father never says heâs proud directly but once changed all the tyres on Jungkookâs car without telling him, which apparently counts as emotional intimacy in their household.
He learns you too.
That you buy flowers from the reduced section because you feel bad for them. That you hate answering unknown numbers. That you get weirdly defensive about supermarket bakery cookies. That your laugh changes when youâre genuinely happyâless loud, more surprised, like joy has snuck up behind you and tapped your shoulder.
For a while, it works.
Morocco becomes less like an ending and more like an origin story you keep revisiting.
Remember the souk cat?Â
Remember the msemen war?Â
Remember when you almost died because of a motorbike and then blamed the cumin?
Remember when everyone in that resort decided we were married before we did?
âWe did not decide we were married,â he says one night.
âYou did say you were unfortunately mine.â
âI was sleep-deprived and emotionally compromised.â
âYou were romantic.â
âDonât spread rumours.â
But his ears go pink even through the video call, so you win.
Then real life starts taking bites.
Small ones at first.
He misses your good morning because he gets pulled into an afternoon production meeting his time. You tell yourself itâs fine because it is fine.
Then he cancels a call because something at work goes wrong with a batch release, and suddenly heâs at the facility until nearly midnight, voice dead when he finally sends a voice note. âSorry. Today was hell. Iâll call tomorrow, okay?â
You replay it three times, because apparently you are a Victorian widow now.
Tomorrow comes. He texts, but itâs thinner than usual.
jungkook: morning
You: morningggg
You: did you survive the pharma trenches
jungkook: barely
You: do i need to come fight a centrifuge
jungkook: not today
No joke after. No little insult. No warmth tucked into the grumpiness.
You stare at the message longer than necessary. You tell yourself not to be ridiculous.
People get busy. Work gets stressful. Not every silence is a warning. Not every short text is the beginning of abandonment.
Your brain listens politely. Then immediately opens the archive.
Your ex not replying for six hours. Then twelve. Then a day.
The slow cooling. The little excuses. The voicemails. Your own voice, cracked and desperate, asking someone to please just talk to you.
You put your phone face-down.
It buzzes ten minutes later. You grab it like an addict.
jungkook: gonna be offline for a bit. work stuff.
Thatâs it.
No joke. No insult. No donât die in Tesco. Nothing that sounds like him.
Something old and ugly wakes up inside you.
By day three, you are no longer cute.
You are a haunted woman in fluffy socks, refreshing iMessage like it owes you rent.
England does not help.
England is all damp pavements and bus delays and office fluorescent lighting. England is eating soup at your desk while watching the sky bruise purple by 4pm. England is your radiator making suspicious clunking noises while you try not to catastrophise because the man you met in Morocco is stressed at work and apparently that is enough to unravel your entire nervous system.
He still messagesâtechnically. But the rhythm is gone.
His replies come hours late. Sometimes one word. Sometimes just a reaction. Once, horribly, just a thumbs-up.
A thumbs-up.
You stare at it like he has mailed you a severed head.
You: not the thumbs up
No reply. You wait.
Ten minutes. Thirty. Two hours. Your chest tightens until breathing feels like work.
By evening, you snap. Itâs almost four in the morning for him. You know that. You know it, and still your thumb hovers over the screen like pain has made you selfish.
You: are we doing that thing where you slowly disappear and iâm supposed to pretend not to notice
The message sends before you can stop it.
Instant regret. You stare at the screen, heart thundering.
For once, he replies quickly.
jungkook: what?
Your fingers move before your better judgment can tackle them to the ground.
You: youâve been weird for days
You: and i get that work is stressful but you can just say if you donât want to do this anymore
You: iâm not going to beg you to talk to me
The typing bubble appears. Disappears. Appears. Disappears.
You hate it. You hate how much it controls the temperature of your body.
Finally:
jungkook: Iâm not your ex.
Your stomach drops. Not because heâs wrong. Because heâs right, and because the sentence still feels like a slap.
You: i didnât say you were
jungkook: you donât have to
jungkook: every time Iâm busy you act like Iâm abandoning you
You: every time youâre busy you shut down and expect me to just guess whatâs happening
jungkook: I told you it was work
You: âwork stuffâ is not communication
jungkook: Iâm exhausted
You: so am i
Thereâs a pauseâa long one. Then he calls. Your phone lights up with his name.
For half a second, you almost donât answer, because text-fighting is one thing. Hearing his voice is another. Hearing his voice means you might cry, and you are so tired of being the girl who cries first.
But you answer anyway.
His face appears a second later, slightly pixelated, harshly lit from above. He looks awful. Not ugly-awful; unfortunately, that seems impossible. Just tired. Hair pushed back badly, dark circles under his eyes, jaw tense. Heâs still in his work shirt, collar open, sleeves rolled up. His tattoos disappear under the cuff like even they are trying to hide.
âWhat are we doing?â he asks.
No hello.
Your hurt flares. âNice to see you too,â you say.
His eyes close briefly. âDonât.â
âDonât what?â
âDo that,â he says. âThe sarcasm thing when youâre upset.â
You laugh once. âOh, sorry. Should I be calm and mature while you emotionally vanish?â
âI didnât vanish,â he snaps. âIâm here. Iâm calling.â
âAfter I had to provoke you into it.â
âBecause you accused me of leaving.â
âBecause you were acting like someone who was leaving.â
He drags a hand over his face, frustration cracking through the exhaustion. âI have been dealing with a contaminated batch investigation for three days,â he says. âThree days of people panicking, managers breathing down my neck, my phone exploding, my brother asking me for money, my mother asking why I sound tired, and now youâreââ
He stops himself too late.
âAnd now Iâm what?â you ask quietly.
His jaw tightens.
âToo much?â you finish for him.
His eyes flash. âThatâs not what I said.â
âBut thatâs what you meant.â
âNo,â he says, voice rising. âWhat I meant is I donât have anything left right now. Iâm trying to keep ten things from falling apart and youâre making me feel like Iâm failing you too.â
That lands somewhere tender, but youâre too hurt to hold it gently.
âWell,â you say, voice shaking, âmaybe donât make someone feel wanted and then disappear the second life gets inconvenient.â
He goes still. On the screen, his expression shutters. You watch it happen in real timeâthe hurt flickering once, then armour sliding down over it. âThatâs unfair,â he says.
âI know,â you say, but your voice doesnât soften fast enough. âSo was making me feel crazy for noticing.â
âIâm not doing this,â he says.
Your heart lurches. âDoing what?â
âBeing punished for someone else hurting you.â
The words hit so hard you physically lean back. For a second, you canât speak. You blink fast. âWow.â
His face changes immediately, regret cutting through the anger. âWait,â he says. âI didnâtââ
âNo, itâs fine.â Your voice has gone cold now, which is how you know youâre close to breaking. âMessage received.â
âDonât do that.â
âDo what?â
âShut the door while Iâm still standing in it,â he says, and thereâs something raw in his voice now. âI said it badly. I know I did.â
âYou said it honestly.â
âNo,â he says. âI said it scared.â
That stops you.
He looks away from the screen, jaw working. When he looks back, his eyes are bright with frustration or exhaustion or both. âI donât know how to do this,â he admits. âI donât know how to be someoneâs⊠person from another country while everything here keeps pulling at me. I donât know how to need space without making you feel abandoned. I donât know how to say âIâm drowningâ without worrying youâll think I donât want you.â
Your throat tightens. âYou could just say that,â you whisper.
âIâm trying,â he says.
You press your lips together.
The fight has used up all the oxygen in the room. Your radiator clicks. The rain outside turns harder, smearing the streetlights into gold blurs on the glass.
You look at him on the screenâthis man who once stood under Agadirâs lights and told you he was unfortunately yours. This man who pulls away when overwhelmed because being needed has always meant being used. This man you are already too attached to, which is exactly the problem. âIâm scared too,â you say eventually.
His face softens, just a fraction. âI know,â he says.
âNo, you donât,â you say, not cruelly. Just tired. âYou know the shape of it. You donât know what it feels like in my body. When someone goes quiet, I donât just think âoh, heâs busy.â I go right back there. Texting and calling and feeling myself get smaller every time. And I hate that. I hate that I brought that into us. But I did.â
He listens. For once, neither of you interrupts.
You swallow hard. âAnd I know youâre not him. I know that. But sometimes my body doesnât. And thatâs not fair to you. I know itâs not.â
His expression shifts thenâless defensive, more pained. âI donât want to hurt you,â he says quietly.
âYou will,â you say, and his face flinches. âNot on purpose. But you will. Iâll hurt you too. Thatâs what happens when people try to do this for real.â
He looks down. For a second, all you can see is the top of his head, the dark sweep of his hair, his hand curled tightly around his phone.
âI shouldnât have said that,â he says. âAbout punishing me.â
âI shouldnât have said you disappear when life gets inconvenient.â
âYou kind of meant it.â
âYou kind of meant yours too.â
He gives a small, miserable laugh. âYeah.â
The honesty is awful and relieving. Neither of you says anything for a while.
The call stays open.
Eventually, Jungkook exhales. âI need to sleep,â he says, voice rough.
Something in you panics anyway, even after all that honesty. âOkay,â you say too quickly.
He hears it. Of course he does. His eyes lift to yours. âThatâs not me leaving,â he says carefully. âThatâs me saying I have to be awake in five hours and Iâm close to becoming a public health risk.â
Despite everything, a laugh slips out of you. âPlease donât contaminate the medicine.â
âIâll try not to,â he says.
The almost-joke lands softly, but neither of you smiles properly. Thereâs too much still bruised.
âIâll message you tomorrow,â he says.
You nod. âOkay.â
âI mean it.â
âI know.â
Do you? Maybe. Maybe not yet.
For a moment, neither of you hangs up.
His gaze lingers on you through the tiny screen. Yours lingers back. Itâs ridiculous, how much you can miss someone youâre currently looking at.
âIâm sorry,â he says.
âMe too,â you whisper.
Then the call ends.
Your screen goes dark, reflecting your own face back at youâtired, wet-eyed, older somehow than when the night started. You sit in the quiet of your flat with the rain pressing its fingers to the window.
Long-distance, you realise, is not just missing someone. Itâs trying to love them through bad signal, bad timing, old wounds, work stress, weather, silence, and every version of yourself that still thinks being left is inevitable.
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a/n: half of my inbox is asks about UY drabbles so hopefully this satisfies you guys!! not sure when i'll write part two since this was literally typed at an airport after losing all faith in the male species (bts and txt do not count). pls let me know your thoughts!! much love <3
usually, before bed, sukuna slides his hand down your panties, placing his large hand over your mound and keeping it there. why? whenever you build up the courage to ask, he simply just shoots you a sharp glance, saying "itâs warm. stop asking questions, woman."
imagine his surprise when he mindlessly slides his hand down, only to feel you were completely bald down there this time.
youâve never seen sukuna so genuinely confused. his usually bored, irritated expression had faded, eyebrows raised in curiosity.
"brat, where is it."
you look over at him, shrugging. "whereâs what?"
he feels around a little more, double checking, nope â not a single hair. âdonât play dumb with me, woman. the hair. where is it."
you were just as confused as he was. did he really love your bush that much?
âi shaved it?âŠ" you respond, watching a slight frown form on his face, similar to a grumpy cat â honestly, anyone else would look at him and assume his entire family had been killed or something.
in your defense, you just felt like changing it up, assuming he wouldnât care much at all. if you knew itâd affect him this much, you wouldnât have plucked even a singular hair away.
"why the hell would you do that," he growls, his initial confusion quickly turning into irritation. âput it back, i donât find this amusing."
you canât help but let out a soft giggle, feeling sukuna pull his hand out from beneath your panties, two arms crossing in silent annoyance like a kid whoâd just had their candy stolen.
"kunaâ, itâll grow back⊠i didnât realise you liked it so much," you smile, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. his expression remains the same, though he doesnât push you away, silently accepting your affection.
"donât let this happen again," he demands.
"awwh! you miss it," you tease, poking his chest playfully. he catches your wrist in his hand, grip demanding, yet not firm enough to hurt.
Sukuna had never begged for anything in his life. Not money. Not forgiveness. Not help. Not even when he was twenty and working three jobs while trying to raise a screaming toddler who kept drawing on the walls with permanent marker while Choso slammed doors and screamed that he hated him.
Sukuna handled shit himself. Always. That was why this felt so wrong.
Why it felt like his ribs were cracking open every second you stared at him without saying anything. The apartment was dead quiet except for the rain tapping against the windows. You wouldnât look at him.
That hurt worse than the yelling did.
Honestly, he wished youâd screamed.
Instead you just stood there near the kitchen counter with your arms wrapped around yourself like if you loosened them for even a second youâd fall apart.
âYou done?â you asked quietly.
Sukuna swallowed. His throat actually fucking hurt.
âNo.â
Your laugh came out broken. Small. âWhat else is there to say?â
Everything. Too much. Not enough.
The problem was Sukuna had never learned how to explain himself without sounding angry. Even now, his jaw was tight enough to crack teeth apart. His huge frame stood frozen near the front door like he didnât know if he was allowed any closer.
Because he probably wasnât. The image kept replaying in his head. You're calling him over and over. Him ignoring every single fucking call like an idiot. The bar and Yorozu hanging all over him.
His arm around her waist because he was drunk and pissed and stupid and wanted to hurt you after the fight.Â
And then your face when you walked in.
Jesus Christ.
Heâd seen people die before and somehow that look still haunted him worse.
âI said I was sorry,â he muttered hoarsely.
You finally looked at him then. Red eyes. Wet cheeks. âSorry doesnât erase it.â
âI know.â
âDo you?â your voice cracked. âBecause I donât think you get it, Sukuna.â
His stomach twisted violently hearing his name like that.
Not Ryo.
Not even Ryomen.
Just Sukuna. Cold and distant, as if you were referring to a stranger.
âYou embarrassed me,â you whispered. âYou humiliated me.âÂ
His chest caved inward.âI know.â
âYou made me feel stupid for loving you.â
That one physically made him flinch, actually flinch. You noticed too because your face crumpled for half a second before hardening again. Good. He deserved it.
Sukuna dragged a hand down his face hard enough to redden the skin. âI wasnât thinking.â
âThatâs the problem.â
Silence.Â
The constant drum of rain, the sound of your uneven breathing. He couldnât stand it. Couldnât fucking breathe in it.
âYou think I wanted her?â he snapped suddenly. âYou think I looked at her like I look at you?â
âYou had your hands all over her.â
âBecause I was angry!â
âAnd that makes it better?!â
âNo!â His voice thundered through the apartment before he caught himself. You stepped back instinctively, tbat nearly killed him. The second he noticed fear flash across your face he looked sick with himself.
â...fuck,â he whispered.
You wiped your eyes aggressively. âI think you should leave.â
âNo.â
Your head jerked up. âNo?â you repeated in disbelief.
âIâm not leaving till you hear me out.â
âThereâs nothing to hear!â
âThere is for me.â His voice cracked on the last word, actually cracked. You both froze. Sukuna looked almost startled by it himself, like his own desperation disgusted him. His fists clenched so hard his tattoos stretched over his knuckles.
âYou think this is easy for me?â he asked quietly. âYou think I know how to do this shit?â
âYou shouldâve thought about that beforeââ
âI know!â he barked.Â
Then softer, broken. âI know.â
God, he looked awful.
Not physically. Sukuna always looked intimidating no matter what. Six foot something of muscle and sharp edges and dark eyes.
But emotionally? He looked ruined. Hair messy from shoving his hands through it nonstop. Eyes bloodshot. Hoodie half soaked from the storm outside because apparently he hadnât even bothered with an umbrella when he chased after you.
âYou didnât even come home,â you whispered.
His face twisted because that was the worst part. Youâd waited for him, called him, texted him. And heâd ignored every single one because heâd been angry after your argument and wanted to âwin.â
God, he hated himself.
âI know.â
âThat whole night I thought maybe something happened to you.â Tears spilled faster now. âI was terrified.â
His breathing stuttered.Â
Then you laughed bitterly. âAnd then I walk in and see you with another girl.â
Sukuna looked like someone had punched him directly in the throat.
âShe didnât matter.â
âBut I did,â you whispered. âAnd you still did it.â
That shut him up, because you were right. Completely right. The silence stretched so long it became unbearable.Â
Then finallyâÂ
âI donât know how to lose you.â
Your eyes flickered. Sukuna stared at the floor like the words physically hurt to say. âI donât know how to do that.â
His voice had gone rough. Not angry rough, raw rough.
âIâve lost damn near everybody else in my life. Parents. Friends. People leave. Shit happens. Fine.â His jaw tightened. âBut youâŠâ
He looked at you finally.
And God.
Youâd never seen him look afraid before. Not truly afraid.
âI canât fucking do that with you.â
Your face wavered. Sukuna noticed immediately and stepped closer before stopping himself halfway like he didnât trust his own body anymore.
âYouâre all over this place,â he whispered desperately. âYouâre in my routines. My brothers love you. Yuji asks for you before bed every damn night. Choso tells you shit he wonât tell me. Your stupid hair ties are all over my bathroom. Your coffee orderâs stuck in my head permanently.â
He laughed once. Humorless. âI see somethin pink in a store and think of you automatically. Thatâs sick.â
A tear slid down your cheek.
âI fucked up,â he said shakily. âI know I did.â His breathing got uneven. âAnd I swear to God Iâll spend every day makin up for it if you let me.â
You stayed quiet. And that silence was making him unravel. Sukuna took another step forward, then another, until he was right there. Close enough that you could see his hands trembling.
Sukuna.
Trembling.
âI donât know how to beg,â he admitted quietly. âSo if Iâm shit at this, thatâs why.â
Your lips parted slightly. Then his voice dropped even lower.
âBut please.â
The word sounded painful, like glass in his throat.
âPlease donât leave me over the worst mistake I ever made.â
You looked down immediately because your eyes filled too fast. Sukuna panicked. Actually panicked. His hands hovered near you before gripping his own wrists instead.
âFuckâ no, donât cry, baby, pleaseââ
âYou made me cry!â
âI know, I know, I knowââ
His words stumbled over each other desperately. Youâd never seen him like this.
Never.
Sukuna was the kind of man who got angry when he got hurt. The kind that buried feelings so deep they turned poisonous.
But now? Now he looked like he was drowning right in front of you.
âYou donât understand,â he whispered. âIâve been outside this apartment for an hour tryin to figure out how to make you stay.â
Your chest tightened painfully. âI almost didnât come up,â he admitted. âThought maybe youâd be happier if I disappeared.â
Your head snapped up immediately. âDonât say that.â
His eyes softened instantly at your reaction. There you were, still caring, even now. That nearly destroyed him all over again.
âI love you,â he said suddenly.
You froze.
Sukuna almost never said it first. Almost never said it at all. But now the words were falling out of him uncontrollably.
âI love you so fucking much it makes me sick sometimes.â His voice shook. âYou think I touched her because I wanted her? I did it because I knew itâd hurt you and I was angry and stupid and selfish.â
His face twisted in disgust at himself.
âAnd the second I saw your face I wanted to rip my own fucking arm off for touching her.â
Your breath hitched.
âI know sorry isnât enough,â he whispered. âI know that.â
Then finallyâ
The thing that broke you completely.
Sukuna reached for your hand carefully. Tentatively, like he thought you might pull away. And when you didnât? His entire body visibly sagged in relief.Â
âPlease,â he whispered again. Not angry, not proud, just desperate.Â
âTell me how to fix this.â
.
.
.
Will you forgive him?
I was listening to "Players Prayer" by Lloyd, and it inspired me to write something new. Itâs definitely different from my usual style, but please thank the weather and the assignments and exams I have piled up for this weeeek :'( I'd honestly forgive sukuna bc i'm so downbad for him, but wat about u guuuys?
A tight grip securing your wrist, tugging you along tripping feet pulls you past destruction at the hand of your abductor. Flames that roar through broken glass, piles of discarded, singed bodies, crumbled architectured arranged in a perfect trail toward the glory of the king's temple as it glows in red lamp light.
With a kiss still burning on your lips, your eyes stare blankly ahead in a daze at the muscles rippling through the lord's inked back, his shadow looming over you, creeping along the waste he lay for your sake. His heavy feet thud against the soil, and you have no choice but to follow his large strides and quickened pace as heat swelters over your damp skin. Ash and blood tinge the air, your eyes burning, yet you can not blink. You can not look away.
His figure bursts through heavy double doors, narrowly squashing the attendants posted there as he plows through the entrance to his temple, and down the long, winding, incense soaked halls that you know lead to his chambers. You could never forget the path, as it has long been engrained in your mind throughout the months of attending to his needs.
You don't miss the haunted looks that grace the faces of the servants as Sukuna storms by, tugging you mercilessly along. Your heart pounds in your ringing ears, wide eyes sweeping over the strange expressions, the fear, the glances that instantly dart away the second you brush past. The stench of fear lingers, intermingling with jasmine, smoke, and some kind of disinfectant. You stumble, brows angled, lips parted cluelessly.
You know that something is wrong. That what Sukuna said about killing those concubines is true. You can feel it creeping from your gut and over your chest. It tells in the lack of whispers that ordinarily carried each time you passed. It tells in the absence of judgmental gazes, poorly disguising the envy and disgust that has often been felt toward you among the servant class of Sukuna's home. It tells in the home's heaviness that doubles what it was before you'd tried to escape. And failed.
You are whisked to the bedroom you so often frequented, to find Uraume standing at his doors, waiting for his return with hands clasped and eyes dull. They flicker to you a moment longer than they used to, and your chest tightens. The tan skinned curse suddenly stops, and you have to muster up the strength to stop yourself from running into his back due to his abruptness.
Sukuna turns over his shoulder to peer down at you, crimson eyes glowing with something you still can not name. Anger? Disdain? Hunger? You can not tell, but whatever it is shakes you to your very core.
Your uncertainty further ails you, cementing the heavy pit in your stomach. You watch as Uraume steps forward to push open his doors before stepping back to the side, and suddenly, you feel yourself pulled around and shoved into the space. You wobble ungracefully, stumbling forward. When you look back in panic and confusion, Sukuna stands in the middle of his doorway, expression as hard as it had ever been. You see Uraume peer in from the side, and you gulp.
"Sit," Sukuna orders, bass thudding in his voice with the raise of one hand into the direction of his bed. You know he is not asking. Certainly not now, of all times.
So with your tail tucked between your legs and your eyes regarding him cautiously, you move to sit on the edge of his bed, silk sheets brushing your exposed skin. You feel his eyes still on you, and when you look back up, you are not mistaken.Â
You, as well as the other concubines in your rank, have always known Sukuna to be an intense, rather hostile being. Everyone within the temple moves and acts accordingly, fearing the very worst of the creature's brutal reign.
As Sukuna's proclaimed favorite, you know his behavior all too when. You know when the intensity in his gaze is reflective of his ordinary disdain, and when it whispers something heavier, something starved, something maddening.The doors swing closed on Sukuna's frightening gaze, leaving you alone with the burning memory of those eyes, and what the owner prepares to do to you.
You swallow hard, shifting on the large bed. The gentle haze of burning incense and perfumes is stronger within his space, as it clouds the air with something thick and sensual. Paper lamps line the walls and corners, cultivating a warmth hardly strong enough to match the burning in your chest as you wait with your heart in your stomach and your hands in your lap, as you were always trained to.
You tilt your head up at the ancient artwork stretching across the ceiling, trickling into the outer walls with a stiff sigh, catching those ink markings of swirling clouds, trees, and mountains that open up the space and trick you into a false sense of comfort. Something familiar within this unfamiliar tension.
Your mind wanders to your fellow concubines and the abuse they subjected you to. Your arms sting and ache with the memory of their cruelty, the price to pay for this very circumstance, for Sukuna's undivided attention. You wonder what must have happened to them, how they fell victim to Sukuna's siege like the nearby village did. You recall the way he stood before you amidst the fire and waste as he told you that punishment was the only appropriate response to their horrid treatment of you, and you sit and puzzle over his words. You wonder if news has yet spread of your unwilling return, and the termination of your occupation of a concubine at Sukuna's order, whatever that may mean.
Your fingers raise to brush your bottom lip as they vibrate with his passion, his only response to your inquiries, to why he would bother to harm the people who harmed you, why you mattered so much to him otherwise. Your purpose is to fulfill him sexually and nothing more, or at least it was, and now you exist between a plane of uncertainty and fear induced by your love that you can not explain.
If you believe that the way I treat you is how I treat the others, then you are much stupider than I previously believed.
His fiery words ring in your head, and you cringe, tearing your eyes away from the ceiling. What does he want from you? If not mindless obedience, if not sexual obligation, if not fearful subservience, then what?
You jump at the sound of the doors reopening, revealing the King of Curses in all his robed glory once more. Your eyes widen and you straighten your posture, staring harshly ahead as his four limbs grasp the doors and propel himself through with a force that only he could possess.
The oxygen seems to suck itself from the room when the doors shut with a finality behind him, but he fails to look at you immediately this time. He moves throughout his space with familiarity, avoiding the bed that you sit upon to sort through a shelf in the far side of the room, behind china and small statues. You sneak a peak over your shoulder, watching the muscles ripple beneath the thin, plum fabric of his outerwear, the very robe he frequents on a daily basis, untied to let his chest, abdominals, and said mouth breathe.
(E/c) eyes roam helplessly over the curve of his back, how his inhumanely broad shoulders crowd over the nape of his neck and the shaped salmon hair that connects. You catch his burly hands retrieving some dark rope, and you clench your jaw, turning back to face forward once more with a deeper pit in your stomach.
There are many things that you would consider to be frightening about Ryomen Sukuna's countenance. His spontaneity is one of them, for no one ever knows what his next move will be, or the very lengths of violence he will utilize accordingly - his very violence being another, and the ease with which he acts. Swipes of a hand with a bored face and the blood of an unwilling victim that spatters over pearly floors. His indifference is haunting.
But scarier than his carnage, his eight foot stature, or his twistedly dark, demonic voice is his silence, and the anticipation of what he might do next lingering within it. And he has not spoken a word to you within the past five minutes of the two of you existing within the other's space.
The air is weighted with his imminent presence. You breathe in slowly, through your nose, and out through parted lips. You hear him continue to shuffle about, and you clench hard on your jaw. You've never been more scared of him until now, in the aftermath of your betrayal and disobedience that he drags on with the absence of words.
Then you hear him move. Your posture goes rigid as slow footsteps approach, and before you can think, he is standing before you. His top set of hands toy with a cut of rope while a lower hand props on his hip. In your direct line of sight, you stare ahead at his lower mouth as it provides the only bit of expression that you have seen from Sukuna since he found you. The lips twist in a devious, sharp grin as its large tongue swipes over them expectantly.
You gulp, then force your eyes up at the Curse already staring down at you. Lamp light outlines his figure from overhead, casting shadows over his face. A predatory glint lights his ruby eyes, all four pinned onto your face. You hear his grip tighten and loosen around the rope as he tugs it.
He hums, a thunderous rumble in his coarse throat. "Frightened?" he muses, voice lilting with an amusement that does not show on his face.
Your brows twitch and you breathe in sharply. "No," you shudder.
His second set of eyes slim. "More lies."
"Wh - no - I-" you stammer as tinted finger tips reach forward to brush along your chin possessively, condescendingly, while his grip tightens, tightens, tightens around that inky rope. Your defensiveness dies in your throat with the heat of his scorching touch, and your body wracks with goosebumps. "I'm just confused," you whisper.
"Is that so," he says lowly. You muster a nod. "And what is it that you have to be confused about when you are the one dared to try to escape me?"
Your heart sinks further, your brows furrow and your eyes go dark. Sharp claws curve against your skin, tapping your chin teasingly. Your lips move to form words that come much later than you intend. "I told you why I left."
"That does not make it right. It does not explain why you did not come to me."
"Concubines do not take their issues to the masters they serve. I surely expect ramifications for such a thing."
"You would not have been punished if you came to me."
"How would I have known that?"
"If you had simply spoken," he asserts firmly. "Even now, you withhold your true thoughts. It is clear in your eyes. In your mind."
His finger drags from your chin to tap against your head. You twitch, and his brow lifts with the tilt of his head.
"Do not attempt to fool me. You are already in enough trouble."
You panic. "My lord-"
"Speak," he grits. "And none of this frivolous nonsense you have been spewing. Spit out what you are hiding. Now."
"...But I'm not - "
Your breath hitches when his hand snaps to clasp around your jaw, grip settled primarily on your throat. He leans down, back curving to meet your eye level, pulling you forward slowly. His movements are drawn out, almost methodical and calculated, like he knows how each gesture, each touch, burns you, affects you, melts you, thrills you.
Scares you.
A pair of eyes holds your gaze while another wanders over you, the drag of your kimono over your shoulders and the soft skin it reveals, sweat glistened, glittery.
"Lie to me again," he murmurs.
The King of Curses watches something shift in your eyes, something like humiliation and fear mixed with the desire you attempt to push away, the desire he knows you feel for him, even with the threat of punishment looming over you in his form. And that fear he detects, it concerns a hesitation to be vulnerable above all else, above any possible aversion to him.
For even after Sukuna gives you every reason to fear him, you still can not combat the love that you have developed for him. The love that you absolutely refuse to name.
Don't worry. He plans to get it out of you, one way or another.
You see his jaw click, his expression still ferociously calm - strangely so. But you know that look. It means you have hell awaiting you, and he doesn't care to protect you from it. After all, this is your own fault.
"Get on your knees."
Something bites at your nerves, sparks them to life the moment the command rings in your ears. You stare up into Sukuna's eyes knowingly, anxiously, yet you can not outrun the longing. You can't outrun the instinctive way your legs press together, despite your frustration. You can't outrun the way your heart spikes with the low command like he knows you will obey him, like subservience comes to you easier than breathing, as he exudes a dominance unlike any you've ever seen.
And like the concubine you were trained to be, your body twitches into motion. You must be taking too long, however, as you can feel Sukuna's grip on you tighten as he starts to tug your head slightly to get you to speed up. That is your only warning.
Holding his gaze, you rise from the bedsheets as he goes to stand upright as well. Simultaneously, your wobbly knees slowly sink down to the wooden floors as his shadow grows greater over you. He watches your every move. His hand releases your jaw to rest over your head, and you settle onto the floor with a soft thump. Your eyes flicker down, and you see the monstrous tent that already threatens you through a layer of clothing.
His thumb swipes over your forehead, his hand planted securely atop you while the other pulls the tie of his pants, abruptly letting them fall from his sculpted torso and to his ankles, wasting no time in unveiling two thick members to you, one stacked atop the other, both angrily red as they continue to twitch to life at the very sight of you so close, your soft pants wafting against the aggressive tips.
A sound pitches in the back of your throat without trying, and you hear that delicious rumble in Sukuna's chest as he examines you, rope still tight in two of his veiny hands.
His free hand moves to grasp around the base of his cocks, past the trail of salmon that trickles from the bottom lip of his mouth down to the very top of his first shaft. With the hand over your head, he tilts you back slightly. Dazed eyes jump from his lengths back to his eyes, and you watch as a hint of a curve peaks sadistically over the corner of his mouth, sharp canines glimmering in the lamp light.
"Open up," he mutters, and you do. Your pretty lips part, the hem of your tattered kimono slipping further down your skin, pressing your cleavage against the silk, a generous display from the angle he peers down at you from. Greed circles in his terrifying gaze, and his smirk spreads. "Now do something useful with that mouth of yours, other than lying."
He pushes you in without warning, and your lips habitually wrap snugly around the top tip, your tongue rolling along the pink skin carefully, like you are not sure if you have been given such access to taste as you please. Your mental question is answered when you feel him push you in deeper, the width of his cock stretching your slippery lips open wider as you focus your breathing through your nose. Your lashes blink restlessly, your eyes stinging as his second dick curves against your chest, and you shiver with a hum of desperation.
You choke slightly as he thrusts his hips forward, shoving himself deeper, and a dark grin finally breaks out over his face, eyes lazy as he peers down at the precious, pathetic sight of you, a former concubine so cock hungry for him that you had to run away to avoid your feelings, to avoid just how much you enjoy this.
And you had the nerve to try to leave him.
"Look at that," he says, tugging you back by the roots of your hair, watching as saliva and pre coat itself over his heavy length as he drags your lips away. You release him with a pop and a shaky breathy, he watches, before pushing you back in and watching you swallow him whole once more. "At least this slutty mouth of yours remembers where you belong."
You whimper, nose twitching as a string of drool dribbles down your chin, your eyes going blurry. Sukuna repeats his motion, guiding you back to begin fucking into the wet cavern of your mouth at a steady, unforgiving pace. You moan helplessly, voice muffled by the monstrosity he calls a dick as he bops your head back and forth, meeting the pace he sets with angry, sure thrusts. He watches you gargle, your lashes collecting tears from your eyes with the curl of your brows upward. Saliva drips onto the expanse of your chest, just between your cleavage as the force with which he fucks your face ruffles your clothing. Hands tighten around the rope as the other reaches for the back of your head as well, his lower set of inked hands now pushing you in, back and forth, back and forth with the sinful shlick of your lips.
Despite his composed nature, you feel his second length twitch beneath you, his first cock subtly spasming each time his tip hits the back of your throat. Your eyes squeeze tight as you fight the gags, your thighs pressing together in a feeble attempt to maintain the pressure building between your legs.
"Don't you dare look away from me," you hear the King of Curses growl, stilling you at the hilt, your mouth stuffed full as your nose brushes against his pelvis. Your shoulders shake, and you peel your eyes back open to gaze up at him through heavy, glassy lids. "You know better," he hisses.
Any attempt to protest is swallowed up, your hair tangled into his grip as he rips you away, his cock springing heavily from your mouth. You rasp a gasp, pre cum stretching in webs from your lips before he angles you down, pushing you back in to give his second dick the same treatment. You swallow him whole on command, your hands reaching up to stroke his soaked length as he works his dick back into you with a low growl. One hand gripping your hair is quick to smack at your hands around his base, and you whine, dropping them obediently at your sides.
"Did I say you could touch me without permission?" You make a sound that sounds something akin to a no, to which the lord quickens his merciless pace, fucking into you with a new vigor that forces your mouth as wide as it can possibly go as you fight to breathe. Arousal buds in your crotch, intensifying with each slip of his tip down the start of your throat. Your nose burns and your lips dribble with fluid. Your face is flushed, and the filthy sound of your mouth struggling to take his cock fills the once peaceful room. Your eyes roll back as his fingers tighten at the roots of your hair, and your hands shake in your lap, eager for something to do.
Sukuna once more is reminded of why he has grown so attached to you as he switches you between both of his dicks with a lack of care for whether you feel like you can take it or not - what matters is that he knows you can. His eyes darken, scattering about your figure, the pearly tears that streak down your cheeks and drop from your chin, your choked moans that you trip over with each sure thrust, the press of your knees together that you stupidly think he won't notice.
And glittery eyes that meet his.
Such beauty before him only angers him more, as you thought that you could deprive him of so. He fucks your mouth accordingly, teeth grinding together and crimson eyes glowing with annoyance and need, need that is continuously self-serving.
"What's the matter, peach?" he urges patronizingly. "Mouth too full to spew more fallacies? Hmmm?" You feel him twitch again as you moan, keeping your eyes on him as he ordered. He grunts, the sensation of your velvety cavern wrapped tightly around him with such determination despite your persistent struggle momentarily blurring his mind. You feel so exquisite. Every part of you always does. His grip in your hair tightens. "Mmm, I think you're better this way. Don't you?"
You answer with a warbled groan that he follows with his own. "Is this truly a punishment if every part of your body screams that you were made to take my cocks like this?" He looks into your cloudy eyes, his heart shifting. "Look at you. How perverse. You love it. Don't you."
"Mhmmm," you manage between his thrusts, a subconscious response engrained in your soul as your fingers tighten around the bunched fabric of your kimono.
You miss the way his second mouth curves as Sukuna proceeds to fuck your face, rippled muscles flexing as you bring him closer. "Makes you wonder why you'd try to fucking abandon this in the first place. Since you love being used so much."
You muffle out something around his cocks. Sukuna grits his teeth, ignoring you, his pace faster, possessive in the meanest way. Your hands twitch to reach for his thighs to stabilize yourself. He keeps a brutal pace, using you like a doll that can not be broken, abandoning any desire to treat you gently. After all, you have to learn.
You whine and whimper, writhe and sputter, and you know Sukuna is close by the way he goes silent while his grip on you tightens impossibly more. Crimson eyes glare directly into yours, his jaw clenching tightly, lips snarling to reveal pearly sharp teeth.
Then, without warning, his abdomen tightens, you're pushed back down against it, and ribbons of cum spill into your mouth, down your throat. You jerk as his seed floods your mouth, threatening to spill from the sides. Sukuna clicks his tongue, voice raw.
"Donât fucking waste a drop.â
You exhale through your nose shakily, milky threads fluttering down your tongue as you drink his release, forcing it all down, mindful of any that tries to escape you. His dick twitches inside you, the other spilling over your tits freely, coating your chest in a fresh layer of him. Sukuna's groan is low, long, dragged, and your stomach twists with his eye contact, a wet patch pooling beneath you.
He seems to cum forever, but you take it all with pride, licking him clean like the good, obedient girl he knows you to be. Not the traitor who narrowly escaped him. You struggle to mumble something around his length again once he has emptied himself completely, and he yanks you away. You sputter for air, your chin soaked and lips glossy with the rise and fall of your chest.
"What?"
"...M'sorry, Sukuna," you shiver, voice raw.
His brow raises, thumb swiping over your plump lips. "Are you now?" he echoes, and you nod frantically, your mind clearly already muddled. "Sorry isn't going to cut it."
Your pupils shrink, and your fate is sealed.
"Get up."
He doesn't wait for you to. He releases your hair and pulls you up by your waist, twirling you around. He guides you by the small of your back, bending you over the bed in one swift movement. Your chin hits the sheets, your back arching instinctively with the guidance of his large palm. You whimper softly as the salmon haired king pulls your arms back by your wrists, planting them just above your tailbone. He bunches your kimono up around your waist, revealing your drenched undergarments as if serving so on a platter.
Sukuna hums thoughtfully, swatting a hand over your ass, gripping the jiggling flesh after the sting that followed. You jolt with a yelp, burying your face into the bed. "Soaked already. How pathetic."
Stripping you of your clothing, you feel him firmly tug your wrists together. There's a brief shuffle before the sensation of rope wrapping around your wrists registers. You tense, feeling each winding knot that secures your hands tightly, leaving you with no freedom to move. You feel the next loops go around your forearms, and the final secure around your lower biceps. He pulls you up by your shoulder occasionally to loop the rope around, and a culminating tug deems you completely immobile from the chest down to your finger tips, an intricate Shibari tie keeping you pinned.
"Try to run from me now," he murmurs. You writhe, shifting within this new hold, and find that mobility is damn near impossible in this state, with your arms tied straight back and your bare feet planted on the floor, keeping you upright. He swats at your ass once more, watching darkly as the flesh recoils, before tugging your garments down your legs to reveal your dripping cunt, staring eagerly back at him. Lust pools in Sukuna's heavy eyes, his tips dripping from his release.
All four hands now free, two of them reach to spread your ass cheeks wide while the others reach for the lips of your heat, opening them up for proper access. He hums and spits onto your hole, watching as his saliva slides down the beautiful organ, your needy clit glistening with desire. He brings a hand to the back of your head and pushes you down, keeping your cheek pressed flat to the bed as he brings his stomach closer.
You gasp when you feel the large tongue of his stomach slide from the tip of your clit up to your bare asshole, the heat of its breath tickling your nerves. You moan out, and Sukuna grins. "You just can't help it, can you?"
You are given no time to answer before his monstrous tongue lavs at you again, gathering your arousal on its buds greedily. Your body wriggles beneath Sukuna's weight, his hands pulling your ass flush against him while his mouth works to undo you.
In the haze of your cries and the devouring of your fruit, Sukuna admires you from above. The curve of your spine as your pussy drools over his tongue, the pretty way you tug and twitch, and the noises that spill into the bed, muffled yet unrestrained.
This is where you belong. This is what life with you should be, but more than what you provide sexually is your presence, and Sukuna never understood that or even bothered to until now, in the light of your return, in the exposure of your hesitant vulnerability. Because despite how you claimed that you could not stay, that things were too hard, your body molds to him like he owns you, like he is the only thing on this planet that you truly want. You're just too scared to say it.
His tongue slurps at you hungrily, the rhythmic symphony of your clit swirling over it ringing out amidst pitched moans. The salmon haired king loves how you struggle, how your fingers twitch to reach for something that you can't touch. The dark rope presses into your bare skin snugly, the sight rather easy on his eyes. Your taste, buttery and sweet, your arousal dripping in puddles onto the floor. You're a beauty, a rare find, the woman Sukuna would split the world in half to find. And if he is so willing to strip you of your title as a concubine, then what is it that he wants you to be, as you'd asked?
The sex isn't any different, only harsher and more assertive to prove a point. But it's you he wants. It's you he craves by his side. Hell, if you'd just spoken up, he would have taken you, made you his sooner.
Instead, however, he has to force it out of you.
He rips his mouth away at the thought, and you whine in displeasure. He smacks your ass hard again, nudging his tips against your entrance while the mouth on his stomach savors your taste, licking up the stickiness at his pelvis.
He cranes over you, his back pressing to yours as he lips curve against your ear. "I'll teach you not to pull that fucking stunt with me again."
Breath is forsaken, as is any remainder of strength you had when you feel the burning stretch of two fat cocks bullying their way past your lips without any further prep. Your walls stretch and mold for him as they always do, your body well accostumed to the abuse of his dicks, but he usually eases you into two at a time, at least fucking your ass with one while your pussy creams around the other, but whatever sympathy he once showed for you is gone now as his weight presses down over your body and your pussy screams around his lengths.
You scream out, scrunching your eyes closed as Sukuna shushes you with a gentleness that does not align with his treatment. His thumb strikes your hair, his cocks inching deeper into you, forcing your hole open deliciously. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull, your breath hitching in your chest. "What's the matter, woman?" he muses, murmuring into your skin. "Can't take it?"
"S'too much, Sukuna, I ca - ah!"
âYes you fucking can.â The King of Curses pushes in deeper. He groans deeply, your tight cunt snug around his shafts. He tugs your head up from the bed to look at you, admiring how your expression wrinkles with pain and pleasure combined. Your jaw hands open and the whites of your eyes are on display, drool seeping from the corner of your mouth. "Too much?" he repeats, slowly sinking deeper, yet to bottom out completely and you're a cock drunk mess. âToo bad.â
"Sukuna," you beg, pleading for mercy that you know will not come.
And then, with a jolt, he bottoms out, burying himself to the hilt inside your miraculous cunt, his lengths bulging in your lower stomach, the breath in your lungs practically nonexistent as you adjust to his incomprehensible length. "See how they fit? Like this cunt is fucking made for them, mm?"
"It h-hurts," you wince.
"Punishment isn't supposed to all feel good, now is it?" you shudder, clenching uncomfortably around him. "That's right. You know what to do."
Sukuna pummels his way into, pulling you back halfway to slam himself back inside. Your screeches are loud enough to travel through the entire temple, and Sukuna ensures this with pleasure. He watches your face contort with each thrust, watches how you practically break with him inside you. Sadistic desire urges him to push in deeper, and you go nonverbal, jaw slack and eyes fluttering as he sets a steady pace, rocking your slick pussy back and forth, keeping your ass flush against him with nowhere to run.
"Yeahhh, listen to her talk to me," he growls, allowing the silence to spill through so that the sound of your squelching pussy registers. You moan helplessly, more tears building at the corners of your eyes. His tips slam into you repeatedly, brushing the sensitive spot inside you over and over without any build up. He thrusts you into a state of overstimulation, forcing such intensity upon you. His nose curves along your jaw, voice low and tight. "Does that sound like someone who wants to leave me to you?"
You can hardly muster the words as moans spill endlessly from your sore throat. Another hand smacks at your ass, and you cry out. "Answer me, brat," he spits, his hand releasing your hair to curve around your throat.
"No!" you wail. "N-No, fuckkk, it d-doesn't."
"Then what the fuck," he thrusts in deep and you jerk forward with a sharp moan. "made you think that was okay? That I wouldn't find you? That I wouldn't make you answer for your stupidity?"
"I - d-didn't-" your words are scrambled, hardly intelligible as Sukuna nips at your neck.
"Fucking talk."
He's mean, knowingly fucking into you harder so that you struggle to form the words. In between your cries and moans and twitches, you shudder out fragments. "Didn't think it was o-okay."
"So you knew it was wrong and did it anyway."
"I-"
He releases your throat and pushes your head back down, this time face first into the sheets. He arches your ass up more, keeping a hand tight on your tied wrists, and plows into you. The sound of skin slapping and fluid squishing rings out in nasty echoes, bouncing off of the walls and back into your ears.
"This is what you wanted then, hm? You wanted me to treat you like the whores youâre around? Like the useless sluts who you let harm you?"
Your shoulders jerk stiffly against the ropes as you cry, your ass bouncing against his abdomen with each merciless thrust. You can feel him in your throat, your cunt gushing helplessly around him as he pounds into you like some deranged animal, like some beast seeking to mark you.
"After everything I've done for your ungrateful ass. You're lucky I don't split you in fucking half."
But he already is. Your mind is mush, your legs are numb, and all you can think about are his dicks working their way in and out of you, claiming you like some emotionless prize. And you love it. The way his big hands hold you tight, the way he refuses to let you go, the way he seeks to make a statement with the way he fucks you.
Admittedly, you didn't want to leave this. This intimacy, this shamelessness, but you had believed it all to be a transaction, just a component of your occupation.
But the way he fucks you now, like you've hurt him and he can't make such a thing be known, has your heart aching like your poor, slobbering pussy.
You hear him talking, but can not register what he is saying. There's a twirl of air and the room flips, and your suddenly on top of him as he lounges across the bed with a creak, his muscular thighs sprawled, hands gripping your waist and holding you upright as you sink back down onto him, your quivering thighs shivering around his torso. Hands fly everywhere over your skin, smacking you here, caressing you there. With his head propped against his headboard, canopy closing the two of you in, he watches his lengths protrude against your lower stomach as he guides you, your walls tight around him, gushing freely like you just can't control yourself.
Crimson eyes follow the remnants of his cum up your chest to the sight of your tear stained face, and those hypnotic, sex dazed eyes lingering on, his despite his harshness. His brows twitch, his lips curling, his balls tightening.
His eyes are the only things that soften on you as he takes in your glow, your tousled hair and flushed cheeks, your red eyes and stained skin. Sukuna is a monster, actively torturing you, testing the limits of your mortality, and you still look at him through the haze of sex like you need him, like this moment, this connection, is everything and the stars. You get so lost in him, in the way he nestles inside of you and holds you tight, that Sukuna almost forgets you were ever in pain. That you ever wanted to run away.
The salmon haired curse wiped away his concubines like it was nothing when he learned that they hurt you, that they played a role in your temporary absence. He would not think to do such a thing for anyone else. He knows it. Uraume knows it. The entire staff knows it. Everyone knows it, sees it, understands it, except for you.
And he could bounce you on his cocks for hours to wear you out, but what he wants is your truth, what he seeks to unravel in your overstimulation are the things you refuse to say otherwise.
A hand reaches forward to squish your cheeks, puckering your swollen lips and yanking you down to his. You moan longingly the moment your lips touch, his searing lips gaining control as they swim against each other heatedly, his thrusts slowing to sink into you deep, so that you can feel every inch.
You whine as his tongue prods past, slinking around yours to assert undeniable authority. Your tongues twirl in a messy dance, your chest slumping against his as your hands writhe behind your back. He bites at your bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth before releasing.
He pulls back to look you in the eye, and he finds it again. That human feeling.
âWhy did you leave?â he grumbles against your mouth, his dicks nudging your walls as you clench around him. His jaw clicks, his eyes wild. âDo not say because of them. Do not say because you donât want to be a concubine. Tell me the truth. Tell me what lies beneath.â
You go to push back in to kiss him, but he stops you with his grasp on your cheeks. You whine. "My lord-"
"I am not asking you. Use your words. You will not get another chance. Do you understand me?"
You don't have the capacity to fight him. Truthfully, you never did, despite how a part of your mind attempts to hold onto your dignity. You don't stand a chance, however, when the tongue on his stomach pokes out again to tease at your swollen clit, licking gently, adding just enough stimulation for you to unravel around him.
"I - hah - need you! I need you, I need you," you babble.
"That much is evident."
"B-But I-"
His fingers press further into your cheeks. "You what, woman?"
"I need you- I love you!"
And there it is, the words you could not say, the emotion Sukuna has seen in your eyes for longer than he is willing to tell you. The confession, the truth as to why you could not stand this place any longer, as to why you were treated so harshly by the others.
The truth as to why every moment with you feels like a memory of humanity that has long been discarded in the curse's mind. As to why he never wanted to lose you in the first place.
Sukuna grins.
"You love me?" he chuckles. "That is why you left?"
"I t-thought - mmm - you didn't care a-bout me - that way. I was just a co-concub-"
"You're not anymore. Get that through your fucking skull."
You moan. "I love you. I fell in love with you. I'm sorry."
Like he said. Pathetic.
Nevertheless, he yanks you back in for a kiss, something tender that does not align with Sukuna's practices. He holds you flush to his lips, molding his against yours in a way that you can not forget. Hands wander and hold you down as he fucks you through every high, every plea, every ache. And he doesn't relent.Â
He does not let the night end until your hole is stuffed full, until you are damn near unresponsive, slumped in a pile of bones against his chest, your arms sore from straining against the rope.
It is dawn when he is done with you. His seed litters the sheets and your skin like a second finish. He hears you breathing, but no motion or other signs of life follow. Your cheek is flush to his inked pectoral, your limbs twitching in your sleep. Red marks in the shape of his hand decorate your bum, and smaller marks little across your neck, chest and stomach, the occasional bite found.
Sukuna peers down at the top of your head, the scent of sex heavy in the air. Your eyes roll behind your lids restlessly, your brows pinched.
He sighs.
Arms wind around you, cradling you snug to his chest. A hand smooths over the back of your head, and another traces the marks he left in his wake. You're a small thing on top of him, one that amazes him with your stamina each and every time.
You love him, huh?
He supposes he'll allow it. As long as you stay by his side. As long as you never part.You're his, he asserts in his head, a sentiment only he can be allowed to hear.Try to leave him again, and he wonât be so nice.
Fratjo breaks up with you and instantly regrets it â series
Part 2B: Replaced
The invitation sits unopened in Satoruâs backpack for a while.
He only notices it because heâs digging around for a missing assignment after practice and the pink-colored card slips free, landing on the floor of his dorm.
For a second he just stares at it. Then he remembers.
You had handed it to him almost three months ago outside the student center. When you were still together.
Youâd looked nervous, a little excited.
âWill you come?â youâd asked, fidgeting with your fingers.
Satoru had been halfway through answering a text from a teammate. âCome to what?â
âMy art showcase.â He remembers the way your face lit up when you started explaining it.
How the department had chosen student projects and everyone would have their own display section if they qualified.
At the time heâd barely listened, but now; he somehow remembers.
Heâd kissed your forehead and promised heâd try. Then heâd forgotten about it almost immediately.
The memory makes his stomach twist because he never went.The guys wanted to celebrate a win and he forgot to text you.
What he hadnât realized then, was there were two dates on the invitation. A voting stage, which had passed; and the winners event, which was tonight.
An annual exhibition, open to the public. After a quick search on the university website, he found a list of featured artists.
To his surprise your name was first on the list.
To Gojo, this was another great opportunity to get back into your life after you shunned him.
But his irritation quickly rises when he looks down the list and recognizes another name. âChoso Kamo.â
Maybe because heâs heard it too often lately. Every time someone mentions you recently, Chosoâs name seems to follow.
He shoves the invitation back into his bag and by seven oâclock heâs standing outside the gallery.
He tells himself heâs only here because Suguru mentioned there would be free food and drinks. What a terrible lie.
ââ-
The building is crowded when he walks in. Students drift between exhibits; holding glasses of wine and tiny paper plates stacked with appetizers.
Soft music sets the quiet atmosphere, nothing like a fraternity party or a football game.
He almost leaves, but then he sees you⊠and everything else disappears.
Youâre standing near the center of the room beside a display table; smiling at something a professor says.
Youâre wearing the same expression you used to wear whenever you talked about something you loved.
The same expression heâd spent so much time ignoring.
For a moment he just watches. Then his eyes drift to the display behind you.
The breath leaves his lungs. The entire section belongs to you. Dozens of pieces carefully arranged across the wall. Some are landscapes. Others are portraits.
He didnât know you were this talented. The realization causes a dull ache; not because you kept it from him, you tried to show him over and over.
He remembers you asking if heâd look through your portfolio. He remembers promising to look at it, and never getting around to it.
A group gathers around your display asking about your inspiration and advice. You begin explaining one of the photographs, a proud look on your face.
Satoru suddenly felt sick; because all those years you were talking to him about this exact stuff.
And most of the time heâd been checking football scores under the table.
The shame settles heavily in his chest. Then someone appears beside you.
Choso.
Satoru recognizes him immediately.
Tall. Dark-haired. The kind of guy who manages to look effortlessly cool without trying.
You glance at him and smile like there was more to be said.
Satoru hates how much that bothers him.
Choso leans down and whispers something only for you, and your laugh carries throughout the room.
And suddenly Satoru remembers every time youâd laughed like that with him.
Every late-night drive. Every movie marathon. Every stupid joke.
Back when making you happy had felt effortless, before heâd gotten comfortable. Before he assumed youâd always be there.
A professor approaches Chosoâs display nearby.
Satoru follows a crowd without thinking. At first he only intends to glance at it.
Then he stops.
The entire section is incredible. Large paintings cover the walls. Sketches. Mixed media pieces.
Months of work displayed under bright gallery lights.
People keep stopping to compliment them. Choso accepts every compliment with an awkward smile but somehow redirects every compliment to you.
âY/n actually helped me choose that one.â
âShe stayed up until three helping me finish that display.â
âI almost scrapped this project, but she talked me out of it.â
Every comment feels like another knife.
Because Choso isnât bragging. He isnât trying to make Gojo jealous. He didnât even realize he was there.
If anything, he seems genuinely grateful.
And Satoru remembers what it felt like when you used to support him like that.
You attended every game and made arrangements to come to away games. You learned the rules, listened to him complain after losses, celebrated wins like they were your own.
You built entire weekends around supporting him.
And he canât remember attending a single thing that mattered to you.
Not one.
The realization follows him through the rest of the evening.
Everywhere he looks, there are reminders. Evidence of an entire world heâd never bothered to learn about.
Eventually he finds himself standing in front of one photograph longer than the others.
A nighttime campus scene.
Soft lights reflected across rain-soaked pavement.
Beautiful. Quiet. Lonely.
The title card beneath it catches his attention. The date listed underneath makes his stomach drop. He knows that date.
You took this photograph the night of one of his championship games. The same night youâd asked him to come with you afterward.
The same night heâd blown you off for a party.
Youâd gone alone and taken this photo, creating something beautiful out of something painful.
For the first time all evening, Satoru leaves the gallery overwhelmed.
People continue filtering in through the entrance behind him.
Inside, through the glass windows, he can still see you surrounded by people who appreciate what you create.
And suddenly he understands something.
Heâd spent months convincing himself that the breakup happened because football demanded too much of him.
Standing here now, none of those excuses survive.
The truth is much simpler; you had spent years showing him exactly who you were, inviting him into your world.
And every time heâd treated them like something he could look at later.
Now someone else knows your favorite projects. Someone else knows your dreams. Someone else gets to stand beside you on the nights that matter.
Satoru stays outside until the gallery closes.
He watches you leave through the front doors surrounded by friends, arms hooked with Choso. Your head leaning on him, accompanied by the widest grin possible.
And for the first time since the breakup, he doesnât feel angry or jealous, just devastated.
Yoongiâs supposed to be on set. But instead heâs sweating under his leather outfit with you spread out on his lap, bouncing on his cock.
It starts off with him just going to his trailer because he forgot his lucky bracelet (the one you gave him on his birthday the first year you celebrated together). The door almost hits him on the ass by the time you jump him, and he barely has time to be surprised before you grab his face and pull him down.
âHowâd you sneak in here?â he chuckles between breathless kisses, hands going to your waist like clockwork.
âIâm your wife. Duh,â you snap, fingers ensnaring the heavy chains around his neck.
âI start filming in five minutes.â
âIâll be quick.â He never argues with you. He lets you push him down on the couch, straddle him, kiss and lick at the base of his neck, knowing you donât need the reminder not to make marks unless you want a hit put on you by his stylist, and youâre always careful not to touch his face for that same reason. It takes him a second to realize youâre wearing a skirt. He opens his mouth to scold you for coming to see him in clothes like that since itâs so cold out but then you reach under to dip into your bare, sopping pussy. Ah. Easy access. You came with a plan.
In all the years youâve been together, itâs never taken much for you to get him hard. You walk into a room and bam - he has to adjust himself. And when you touch him - there goes his thoughts for a few minutes. Itâs always been like this, and he knows itâll never change. So when you figure out how to get into his boxers without pushing down too much leather, heâs already stiff and leaking at the tip.
You smear down his precum and he bites his lip when you grab his cock with the fingers you had between your legs, glistening with your slick, making him nice and wet for you.
âDamn, baby. Were you playing with yourself while you waited for me?â
âMhmm,â you nod, whimpering as you finally let him penetrate your walls. Youâre so wet and warm and tight when you sink down on him that he has to hold in a breath to keep himself together. But then he reminds himself that this is a quickie. He knows you could stay here and ride him until his balls are empty, but, unfortunately, he doesnât have that kind of time. His phone - that he shouldnât even have on him in the first place (he does though, just for you) - has been vibrating in his pocket for the past few minutes, but the more heâs distracted, the longer itâll take him to make you both come, so he ignores it.
Your hands grip his shoulders as you wiggle your hips to adjust to his girth that he finds so fucking cute every single time, but he can hardly feel your touch through the thick leather of his jacket. He curses, because his fingerless gloves are preventing him from fully touching the skin on your hip, so he grips you hard enough to bruise. Usually, heâd let you bounce and ride him until you came on him and got too tired to carry on, but to speed things up, he bucks up into you, watching your parted lips spill out moans as he grinds against your spot, grunting as it makes you squeeze him and suck him deeper in. He kisses you, swallowing your sweet sounds, and his balls tighten when your fingers dig into the side of his head, tightly fisting his hair. Telltale sign that youâre close. You must've really worked yourself up while you were waiting for him.
âCome for me,â he whispers against your lips, fingers dropping and finding your clit to press and rub you over the edge. You loudly cry out his name, pulling at his hair so his head tips to the side as he continues fucking up into you and kissing the underside of your jaw. âThatâs it, baby. Fuck, youâre squeezing me so good.â
âCome inside," you warble, cheek lolling against his temple, fingers still entangled in his hair, cunt clenching him through your aftershocks.
âMm.â Eyebrows pinched, his fingers return to flex on your hip, cock twitching at the mere thought of getting to fill you up. âRemember to take your pill.â
You whine, indignant. He sighs, shakes his head. You make that sound when he doesnât give you what you want.
âIâll give you a baby when we come back from tour, âkay?â
You whine again, louder and borderline disobedient, slamming down on him like it tells him something. Sucking in a hiss because damn that felt good, he slaps your ass and massages out the sting, a silent warning to stop being a brat. This is one thing heâs not going to let you win an argument about.
âHey, that was the deal, right? Iâm not leaving you at home alone and pregnant while I fly around the world for eight months.â
âYeah, but by the time youâd get back, youâd have a baby. You wouldnât have to deal with all my pregnancy bullshit,â you try to reason, hips still rolling, eyes glassy and pout pathetic. He frowns. Youâve both had this conversation multiple times before, but thatâs the first time youâve made this point. He doesnât fucking like it.
Yoongi tugs down on your waist to get you to stop, pelvises pressed together, cock deep inside you. But you know better than to move.
âLook at me.â You refuse, and the leather of his fingerless gloves rubs your cheeks as he grabs them. âI want to deal with all your pregnancy bullshit. I married you, remember? I signed up to put up with all your bullshit for the rest of my life and I donât plan on missing out on any of it.â
His eyes dart between both of yours, making sure what he said is sticking with you, and when you lean in to sloppily kiss him, he knows the message got through.
âNow, câmon. You said you were gonna be quick.â
You sit up straighter, and youâre clearly weakened from your orgasm but you put in effort that heâll worship you for later to bring him to his own peak. Slick sounds of your pussy and slams of your hips fill the trailer, and within seconds of you squeezing him, sucking on his earlobe, and toying with his chains, heâs muttering an incoherent string of curses and spilling deep inside you. His balls just keep pulsing and holyyy shit, he really could get you pregnant right now. (He would love nothing more, but later heâll text you another reminder to take your pill).
âI love you so fucking much,â he pants into your neck, wishing he had the time to leave his mark. âEven though youâre gonna get me in so much fucking trouble.â
âLove you, too. Donât forget you married trouble,â You grin, waggling his ring on your finger in his facr, and his hips jerk as you lift off of him. He tips his chin up when you start to lean in for another kiss but your mouth drops and your eyes go wide.
âOh, fuck, your hair-â You reach out to try and fix it, but just as you do, a loud pounding on the trailer door startles the both of you.
âShit, gotta go,â Yoongi mutters, quickly stuffing himself back in this godforsaken leather as his manager starts yelling for him to come out. You try your best to smooth down his hair, but when you keep muttering curses under your breath, he knows itâs not working.
âItâs fine. Iâll see you later.â He kisses you, lingers a second longer than he has time for, and leaves you sitting on the couch, skirt halfway up your waist, fingers playing with his cum dripping out. Fuck, youâre gonna be the death of him. He needs to shoot this music video first.
Yoongiâs manager chews him all the way out onto the set, and his stylist gives him the evilest eye when she catches sight of his hair. He just scurries towards his band because his manager already said thereâs no time to fix it.
âWhere were you?â Namjoon exclaims as Yoongi walks towards the center of the platform. He shrugs, like heâs not still perspiring and his dick isnât still hard. Luckily, his leather pants are bulky enough to hide it.
âI had to grab something.â
âLook at his hair! That means his honey came to visit,â Hobi says, waggling his brows. Yoongi shoots him daggers.
âShut up.â
The maknaes burst into raucous laughter and Taehyung and Jimin mime grabbing at each other, making overexaggerated kissing noises and mimicking the way you cry out Yoongiâs name. Yoongi turns his back on them to go to his spot, just missing Jeongguk thrusting in the air like heâs mid-Baepsae.
âYou brought this on yourself,â Namjoon mutters, stepping up next to him, fixing his gloves. Yoongi pretends not to hear. âItâs been, what, four years? And yâall still act like newlyweds.â
âWeâre making up for the time we missed while I was in the military.â
Namjoonâs face pulls back, disgusted. âOkay, well, can you not do that on our schedule?â
âSorry, leader-nim,â Yoongi fake apologizes, pressing his hands together, smirk lopsided and shit-eating. âMaybe if you let her come on tour, she wouldnât find any downtime I have now to, yknow, make up.â
Namjoon sighs, long and distressed. Yoongi only feels a little bad. Youâre his wife. He needs you by his side, and not just to have little quickies whenever thereâs minutes to spare. He was enough of a wreck being away from you during his service. He doesnât want that to happen because of work.
âFine. Iâll see what I can do.â
Yoongi smiles, lighting up inside and out. âThanks, bro. Youâre the best.â
âYeah, yeah,â Namjoon waves him off, just in time for the director to call for action.
He doesnât know how crazy his hair looks until they play the footage back to check for mistakes and potential position adjustments. His band members tease him, but it makes him smile that itâs there because you need to grab onto his hair when he makes you come. No one outside of this set will ever know his cowlick is thanks to his wife, and that makes him like it even more.
He still left his damn bracelet.
.
.
.
thank you for reading!!! ahhhh i cant believe this happened lmao pls let me know what you think with comments and reblogs!! đ
Jungkook does not know what time it is, neither does he care what time it is. He just guesses that itâs quite late. Heâs too absorbed by his monitor to be bothered by anything else. Well, of course he is. He loves video games, theyâre his escape, his therapy.
Today heâs decided to play Apex Legends. His favourite one. It wasnât just about the immaculate graphics, the realism of the game or the wondrous challenges. It was about you, Y/N. The main character of the game. The bossy, adventurous and drop-dead gorgeous commander who leads the elite team through battles.
Youâre everything he isnât â confident, brave and so, so dominant. He salivates over the way youâre so effortlessly beautiful, the way your uniform accentuates your perfect curves, how your hair tied into a messy ponytail makes you look even sexier. And your voice, your sweet, seductive voice could bring him to his knees. He loves the way you bark orders at your team, the way you portray your lines with such conviction. He wishes you were real so you could demand things from him and tell him what to do.
Every time he was free, heâd be on the game. Playing the story mode and the side missions, watching you. And yeah, sometimes heâd lean back in his gaming chair, slipping his hand under his sweatpants and jerking off to you. It isnât weird, right? Even though youâre just pixels, youâre perfect. Not a single woman has ever made him feel the things you do â not that heâs been with many girls. No, he hasnât. He hasnât even had sex yet. Heâs just an inexperienced loser obsessed with a fictional character.
The game loads like normal. He selects his usual loadout and joins the story mode. The game starts with your intro. You confidently stride, eyeing your men and their forms, then your eyes flicker to the screen, speaking to the player.
âListen up, rookies. This isnât a playground. One wrong move and youâre dead. Follow my lead or get left behind.â
Jungkook admires you, thinking about how hot you are. He could stare at you forever. But for now, he decides to start playing. At first, itâs the same as always â he gets in headshots, kills enemies and keeps up with you and your squad.
But after a few minutes, something starts to feel very off. The screen flickers unusually, like an awful glitch. The audio becomes louder and everything brighter. Then suddenly heâs levitating and getting pulled toward the screen. His stomach drops and he tries to stand but his legs wonât work.
âWhat theâ wait, noââ
He feels as if heâs falling forward, but thereâs no floor. Everything starts to feel otherworldly and disorientated. Before everything goes black, he hears what must be your voice.
When Jungkook opens his eyes again, the world is spinning. Heâs laying on his back on cold, hard concrete, staring up at a dark, smoky and gloomy sky. His head is pounding. He groans, rubbing his temples as if it might help him make sense of whatâs going on.
Slowly, he pushes himself up onto his elbows. His heart is beating way too fast in his chest. This isnât his room⊠this is the video game. He knows this place well. This is where your squad stays and where all the missions begin. He spawns here all the time. But this time, he isnât analysing it through a screen.
He looks down at himself and freezes. His normal clothes are gone and replaced by the recruit uniform from the game. The perfect attire for a soldier from your squad â black tactical pants, a long sleeve compression shirt under a military vest and combat boots.
âWhat the fuckâŠâ he whispers in pure disbelief.
He gets up to his feet with shaky legs and looks around. He sees people moving around and soldiers. They have to be the NPCs from the game. Theyâre all wearing the same attire as him, except they look a bit different. Most of them are bigger than him, they look rough and rather scary. A couple of them glance his way, probably wondering who he is.
Jungkook gulps hard. He shoves his hand in his pockets and keeps his head down, walking around and trying to look like heâs from around here. He walks toward the barracks, his brain over working as he thinks. Jungkookâs a smart guy, probably the smartest in the country. He always has an explanation for things, but right now, he cannot comprehend whatâs happened to him.
He walks into the barracks, seeing many more soldiers here. They all look so much stronger than him, like they could wipe him out in thirty seconds max. He finds an empty bunk in the corner and takes a seat, burying his face in his hands, still in deep thought. How is he going to survive here? He doesnât know how to shoot. Heâs never really thrown a punch in his life. And now heâs in a warzone with people who mustâve been training for it their whole lives.
All of the scenarios that Jungkook thinks might have led to this doesnât make sense. Nothing could make this make sense. Heâs not going to make it here. Heâs just an introverted loser who prefers virtual reality over real life and a fictional woman over real women.
His thoughts shatter when he hears your voice. His heart drops to his feet and feels goosebumps on his arms. He whips his head so fast to look at you that it makes him dizzy.
âNew recruit?â you ask, standing by the doorway.
The real version looks even more devastating than the pixels, perfect in a way he cannot comprehend. Youâre standing there with a hand on your hip, looking at him expectedly. You aren't rough like everyone else here. Sure, youâre intimidating as the rest of them, maybe even more. But youâre beautiful and precious.
You tilt your head, scanning him up and down. âWell?â you take a step closer to him, causing his heart rate to spike once again. âYou gonna sit there and stare at me, or are you going to talk?â
Jungkookâs mouth goes too dry. He tries to open it to say something, but nothing comes out. He stands up from the bed too quick, almost stumbling forward but he catches himself before any further embarrassment. You cross your arms now, watching his awkward display.
Now that heâs standing up, he towers over you so you have to tilt your head back to meet his nervous eyes. Jungkook continues to just stare at you. Even though his legs feel like jelly, he stands up from the bunk way too fast and immediately stumbles forward before balancing himself.
You stand with your arms crossed, watching Jungkookâs awkward display. You tilt your head up at him, meeting his very nervous eyes. Jungkookâs brain buffers as he takes you in from up close. Youâre ethereal.
ââAre you not going to talk?â you ask, sound annoyed now.
Jungkook swallows loudly. âYâyeah. IâmâŠIâm a new recruit. Just got here, Y/N. Maâam. Commander.â He wants to die.
You hum, thoughtful. âCanât wait to see you in action. Hope youâre worth the space on my team.â you eye him up and down, assessing him. âGood news for you though. Weâve got a mission coming up soon. Try not to fall over your own feet.â
With that, you walk away. Jungkook canât help himself. He watches you walk away, checking you out like some perverted freak. Watching the sway of your hips, the way your tactical clothes hug your perfect figure, accentuating your curves. Fuck, youâre so hot. Finer than anything heâd ever imagined.
He watches until youâre out of his sight. Before he can go back and take his seat, a slightly muscular, tall guy stands in front of him. Jungkook immediately realises who it is. Heâs Taehyung. one of the elite soldiers under you. The cocky guy whoâs stronger than everyone on the team, whoâs widely admired, who never misses a shot. And who also happens to be your love interest.
Taehyung steps in close, invading Jungkookâs personal space as he speaks lowly. âNew recruit, huh? Iâm gonna warn you now before you get any funny ideas,â he sizes Jungkook up before continuing. âYou better keep your eyes to yourself, off Y/N. Sheâs mine. Look at her like that again and weâre gonna have a problem.â
Jungkook doesnât want to back down so easily, but he has no choice. This whole situation is too complicated. He canât start a fight with a guy who could probably break him in half. So he chooses peace. He raises his hands and takes a step back.
âI donât know what youâre talking about. Iâm just here to do the missions.â His voice comes out steadier than he expected.
Taehyung stares at him for a few more seconds before nodding and also stepping back. âSmart choice.â
Taehyung turns and walks away. Alone again, Jungkook sits back on the bunk and runs a hand through his hair. Heâs going on a mission? Jungkook is all books and brains, heâs barely athletic. How is he supposed to survive this? Even as his mind spirals over getting himself hurt, his highest concern is not being able to impress you or to live up to your expectations.
âEveryone ready! Airship leaves in ten!â Taehyung shouts to the entire team.
Everyone begins to rush around, grabbing gear, checking weapons and going over plans. Jungkook follows the flow and his own weapon. His hands shake but he forces himself to keep moving. On the airship, everyone gets in. Jungkook finds a seat near the back.
Surprisingly heâs not as nervous as he expected to be. Instead he feels a strange sense of excitement. He wants to be brave, he wants to prove his worth to you. He wants to show you that even though heâs not like the rest of the guys on the team, he can be enough for you.
Someone sits in the seat next to him. Jungkook doesnât need to look over to know who it is. He can tell itâs you by your sweet, addictive scent. It makes his brain fuzzy. He stiffens and grips his knees, staring straight ahead, not daring to look into your direction. Youâre close to him, he can feel your body warmth.
âJungkook.â you call his name.
Only then do his eyes snap toward your direction. But his eyebrows furrow in confusion when he realises that he hasnât told you his name. He decides not to dwell on it, because nothing in here makes much sense anyway, so why would he start questioning it?
Youâre looking at him with those big, observant eyes. Again, scanning him from head to toe, as if making mental notes about him. You lean in, your lips twitch to form a small, tiny smile.
âYou donât seem like the rest of the guys here,â you say softly in an almost intimate tone. âThereâs something about you, Jungkook.â you pause, your eyes linger on his mouth before looking back into his eyes. âI like it.â
Jungkookâs breath audibly hitches. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Youâre so close, you smell way too good. You look even better. Like youâre meant to ruin every fibre of his being.
You offer him a smile. âTry to keep up there, pretty boy.â
Jungkook barely feels the airship lifting off because all he can feel is you pressed against him and the exhilarating knowledge, knowing that you seem somewhat interested in him
The rest of the ride passes in silence. You donât say another word to him, so he decides to stay silent as well and enjoy the close proximity between you. But every few minutes his eyes drift sideways to steal glances at your profile. He keeps telling himself to look away, to focus on anything else but you, but itâs near close to impossible when youâre the most beautiful thing heâs ever laid his eyes on.
At one point, he obviously turns his head and locks eyes with Taehyung. Taehyung is already glaring at him with his jaw clenched tight, looking as if heâs plotting Jungkookâs death. Oh shit. Jungkook quickly looks forward again, swallowing hard as Taehyungâs warning from earlier echoes in his head.
The airship soon begins its descent, dropping toward a smokey urban warzone, like the hard levels he usually plays, only now itâs more detailed and brutal. There is nowhere to run or hide here, he has to face whatever threat comes his way.
âGear check!â you call out as you stand.
Everyone stands after you, checking their gear, making sure itâs all in place. Jungkook fumbles with his rifle, checking the magazine and safety. He takes two grenades in case, along with a pocket knife.
You lead the way down the ramp, with your own gear in check, ready for battle. The rest of the squad fall into formation behind you, Jungkook follows with his heart racing.Â
 âââ
The mission kicked off, Jungkook finds it beautiful, yet extremely chaotic and terrifying. Enemy forces swarm from all directions, undead, zombie-like creatures hungry for blood. Your soldiers try their best to wipe them out, but theyâre quick, too quick for most of them. Jungkook should be panicking, but he isnât. Heâs doing much more than most people on your team â getting in kill shots, protecting his teammates wherever he can. You bark orders at him, he carries them out with great efficiency
For the first time in his life, he doesnât feel like the awkward, push-over nerd. No. He feels alive and so much more confident. And thatâs because of his urge to please you.
After hours of battle, Jungkook, along with you and your squad are almost at the extraction point, almost at the end of the objective when it goes wrong⊠Jake, aggressive as always, decides that itâs a good idea to throw a grenade at a cluster of the last of the undead, near a large building. The explosion is deafening. Killing hundreds of the undead, but also causing the building to collapse, a massive chunk of concrete is about to fall toward where youâre standing.
Jungkook sees you standing there unmoving. He doesnât give it much thought, he just runs over to you, sprinting toward you and slams into you with his full body weight, arms around your waist as he pushes the both of you sideways. You both hit the ground hard, rolling over away, just as the concrete crashes down.
Jungkook ends up hovering over you, an arm embracing you as he shields you. Your fingers tightly grip into his vest but once knowing youâre safe, you open your eyes and stare up at him, with your mouth parted in genuine surprise and awe. For once the bossy commander looks perplexed. Something electric passes between the two of you as you two look into each otherâs eyes. The world seems to narrow to just you and him, amidst the chaos.
Then once you snap out of it and remember where you are, you shove Jungkook off you gently but firmly and stand up on your feet. You furiously walk over to Jake.
âWhat the fuck was that? You nearly got me killed, you idiot!â
Jakeâs face pales, he steps forward, holding his hands together in front of you. âY/NâCommander, I swear I didnât see you there, I swear. It was aimed at the hostels. Iâm sorry, Iââ
âSorry doesnât cut it when it almost gets me killed.â you say in a cold tone. âYouâre off the team, Jake.â
Jakeâs face falls. This is his worst nightmare come true, being off your team and away from you. The cocky man falls to his knees in front of you. âY/N, please. Donât do this to me. Iâve been with you since the beginningâ.â
âDrag him out of here.â you order two squad members
Without hesitation, they haul Jake up by his arms. He begs as they pull him to the airship.
âY/N! Give me another chance! Please!âÂ
You donât even glance back, you just signal the team to move. âMissionâs done.â
 âââ
During the ride back, your remaining squad talk to one another about their victory, making plans to celebrate properly when back at the barracks. Jungkook is still buzzing with adrenaline, but he feels warm and satisfied, glad to have been part of the victory and glad to have saved you.
Once everyone is properly strapped in their seats, you sit down beside Jungkook again, sitting even closer than the first time. Youâre quiet for a moment, before you turn your head to look at him.
âHey⊠Jungkook,â you begin, your voice soft due to all the noise, but Jungkook hears you. âThank you for what you did back there. You didnât hesitate, most guys wouldâve.â a genuine smile forms on your lips. âYouâre more than worthy of being by my side.â
Jungkookâs heart does a flip and before he can help it, a boyish smile breaks across his face. His cheeks heat up. âI⊠I couldn't let anything happen to you.â
You study him for a long moment, eyeing his handsome features, your gaze lingering on his lips. You lift your hand to place it on his thigh, running it slowly up and down, caressing him. Jungkook feels a shiver run down his spine. Oh fuck. Youâre touching him. His breath hitches and his thuds wildly in his chest.
If thatâs not enough, you lean in closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear to whisper seductively, âmeet me in my quarters an hour after we get back, okay?â
Jungkook gulps, his throat suddenly dry and nods jerkily, unable to form any coherent words. Sweat prickles on his forehead as he anticipates what might happen later on.
 âââ
Jungkook paces the small space of his assigned quarters like a caged animal. His heart is beating so fast, heâs sure it will jump out of his chest. You want him to come to your quarters. You want him to come to your quarters. You, the seductive, dominant woman heâs always fantasized about wants him in your space. All alone.
âFuck, fuck, fuck,â he mutters, running a hand through his hair.
He needs to calm down, or at least look as if heâs not about to combust. He strips and steps into the shower, letting the warm water cascade over him. He scrubs himself with the soap provided, washing himself clean. He wants to be as presentable as possible to you.
When he steps out of the shower, with a towel around his waist, he opens his locker to find a black compression shirt, jeans and boots. He dresses before checking himself in the mirror. He looks clean, handsome, but he doesnât feel as if itâd be enough for you.
After a few more moments, he walks over to your quarters, his palms sweaty and his mouth dry. When he finally reaches your door, he stands there for a long time before raising his fist with hesitation. What if this is some prank? What if he embarrasses himself? Before he can think of anything else, he forces himself to knock.
The door opens and Jungkookâs jaw nearly hits the floor. Youâre standing there barely looking like the commander who leads her squad to wars. No, you look soft and so much more approachable, so devastatingly beautiful. Youâre in a silky, pink robe thatâs tied loosely, hinting your body underneath without revealing too much.
âHâhi,â Jungkook stutters embarrassingly.
You offer him a warm smile. âCome in, Jungkook.â
You step aside to let him in. He stumbles forward as he steps in but catches himself. You close the door after him. Your quarters are much bigger than the barracks, very feminine and luxurious. A large, soft bed dominating one side, a vanity with your toiletries, a kitchenette and an en suite bathroom.
âMake yourself comfortable,â you say, gesturing toward your bed.
Jungkook nods and sits on the edge of the bed, keeping his hands on his knees and trying not to fidget.
âWould you like something to drink?â you ask, walking towards the kitchenette.
âJust water, please,â he manages to say.
He cannot look into your eyes, every time his eyes flicker, they check you out as subtly as possible â looking at the way the robe hugs your curves, shaping your breasts, hips and ass. He thinks of filthy things. He imagines untying it, letting the robe pool at your feet, kissing every inch of your body, burying his face between your thighs and worshipping you.
You pour him a glass of water and hand it to him. He takes it from you with both hands, thanking you softly. The water helps a little, calming him down as he feels your gaze on him the entire time. When he finishes, he sets the glass in the nightstand beside the bed. Only then does he dare look up. Youâre even more ethereal up close like this. Definitely the most beautiful he could ever lay his eyes on.
You reach down, using a finger to gently lift his chin upward so he can look into your eyes. âYou were so good today. So perfectâ you say, honest and almost seductive. âI want you, Jungkook. Wanna reward you.âÂ
Jungkook nearly chokes on thin air, his eyes widening. Him? You want him? The inexperienced, nerdy guy whoâs spent years only touching books and controllers? You bite your lip, watching him patiently.
âAre you okay with that?â
Jungkookâs heart is doing cartwheels. Nervous doesnât begin to cover it, he feels like he might pass out or explode. But despite the panic, he feels the deep aching need he has for you. He nods, quick and extremely eager.Â
âY-yes. I want that. A lot.â
Satisfaction crosses your face. You lean down slowly, edging closer to him. Jungkook stares at your lips, his own parted, waiting for you to close the distance. You close the distance, kissing him. Jungkook kisses back instinctively, shy at first until he gets bold and hungry. Your hands slide around his neck, fingers threading into his hair to get him closer.
You notice that Jungkook is hesitant, even as he kisses you deeply, his hands hover awkwardly near his side, too shy to touch you. Without breaking the kiss, you take his hands and guide them to your hips. You kiss him harder then, even hungrier, your tongue slips into his mouth to taste him properly.
You moan into the kiss when he starts to get sloppier. You climb onto the bed and push him backward until heâs laying back on the mattress, and youâre straddling him. Jungkook groans, his grips on you tightens, feeling your soft curves. You grind down on him, making him dizzy. Jungkookâs hands tremble as they slide lower, cupping your ass through the robe. He squeezes gently at first, then harder when you donât pull away.
You hum appreciatively into his mouth. The sound makes his cock twitch against you, knowing that youâre enjoying his touch. You keep kissing him, your tongue sliding against his. After a minute, you pull back and sit upright on his lap, your weight pressing deliciously against his growing erection.
Jungkookâs breath hitches when you reach for the belt of his pants. He lifts his hips to help you, his fingers fumbling alongside yours until the belt is loose. You both shove his pants down, he toes off his boots so heâs left in his shirt and boxers. His boxers do nothing to hide how rock hard he is. Your gaze lingers on it, making his stomach flip.
Looking back into his eyes, you reach for the tie of your robe and slowly pull it open, it slides down your shoulders, arms and waist. Jungkook realises that youâre completely naked underneath. His eyes nearly water at the sight. Every single inch of you is perfect to him. He cannot stop checking you out, his chest rising and falling fast.
âTake off your shirt, Jungkook.â you command once you discard your robe somewhere.
He sits up and pulls the compression shirt over his head, tossing it aside. Heâs lean but defined. Hours of working out in the campus gym has given him a nice figure. Heâs got muscle, but not too much â heâs just right.
Your eyes darken with appreciation. You reach out and feel his chest and abs, while rolling your hips again, grinding your bare pussy directly against his cock. You keep grinding against him, your wetness soaking through his boxers as you moan and pant softly. The pretty sounds you make drive Jungkook insane. His hands move up, sliding from your hips to cup your breasts, squeezing and kneading them. Jungkook leans up, his mouth finding one of your nipples, he sucks on it and twirls his tongue around it. You gasp, your fingers tugging on his hair.
âKookieâŠâ the nickname slips out in a moan, breathy and affectionate.
Kookie? The thought flashes through his mind for a second, but he doesnât dwell on it. Not when your breasts are in his mouth and when youâre grinding on his cock like you canât get enough. He switches to your other breast, sucking hard and nipping on your nipple/
Your hands roam over his chest, over his abs and then lower, slipping into his boxers. âTake these off,â you whisper against the top of his head.
He obeys instantly. One hand grips your ass to hold you as he lifts his hips up, the other shoves his boxers down. His cock springs free, thick, long and already leaking at the tip. Your eyes widen, you salivate a little. This cute, shy nerd has all that?
You reach between your thighs and slip two fingers inside yourself, pumping them. Jungkookâs eyes widen, locked on the sight as if itâs the most mesmerising thing heâs ever seen. Your fingers wet with your own arousal, along with your soft sounds are too much. He might actually bust just from watching.
After a short while you pull your fingers out with a frustrated little huff. âTheyâre too short⊠doesnât feel right.â
Before you can say anything else, Jungkook gently grabs your wrist and brings your wet fingers to his mouth. He licks them clean, tasting you properly for the first time.Â
âMine will do the job,â he says, surprisingly confident.
You stare at him, speechless. He replaces your fingers with his own. His two long, thick fingers slide into you, fucking deep into you. Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping tight as he pleasures you, his thumb rubbing your clit as his fingers thrust in and out of you.
âOh â Jungkook ââ you moans, hips bucking into his hand,
His fingers are relentless, hitting your perfect spot until youâre shaking. Itâs not long before youâre coming hard, clenching around his fingers. He finger you through your orgasm, until youâre oversensitive and whimpering. Finally he pulls his fingers out and brings them to his own mouth, sucking them with a groan, keeping eye contact with you.Â
You crash your lips onto his, messy and needy. You sit up a little higher and reach down to position his cock at your entrance. Jungkook grips your hips again, holding you as you sink down. The stretch is intense. His cock is bigger than you expected, and it burns at first, but you take him slowly, until youâre completely seated against him.
Jungkook lays himself back, his head falling against a pillow as he groans loudly at the feeling of you enveloping him. He lets himself savour the feeling of finally being inside the woman heâs obsessed over for so long.
Your hands brace onto his chest as you lift yourself slowly, rising up until only his tip is left inside you, then you sink back down, taking all of his again. After that, the wet sounds of you riding him fill the room. Jungkook groans when you start riding him properly, sinking up and down on his length over and over again.
Jungkook watches you with half lidded eyes, bewitched by you. Your hands press harder into his chest for leverage as you pick up speed, your breasts bouncing beautifully. Jungkook pants beneath you. He caresses your hips, then lets his hands slide down to squeeze your ass again, kneading the flesh as you ride him.
Unable to control himself. Jungkook thrusts into you to meet your downward sink, burying himself deeper. He makes sure not to take over, letting you keep most of the control. Your movements grow a little sloppier, your pussy starts fluttering around his cock, making his grip on you tighten almost painfully. Fuck, are you gonna let him come inside you? He hopes so. He wants it so bad, he wants to fill you up.
You keep going, riding him harder until youâre releasing. Jungkook curses under his breath, groaning, jerking his hips up as he comes inside you, filling you up completely. You collapse forward onto his chest, and start pressing affectionate kisses along his neck and cheeks. Jungkook blinks, confused as to why youâre being so tender. You smile against his skin and peck the tip of his nose.
âY/Nââ
âYou have to wake up now, Kookie.â you whisper against him.
His eyebrows furrow. What?
Jungkookâs eyes snap open. Youâre hovering over him, pressing gentle kisses to his nose and cheeks, your hair tickling his skin. His hands are gripping your hips and ass extremely tight. And heâs rock hard, painfully hard, his cock is straining against his wet pants. He blinks rapidly, his brain is foggy and he snaps out of the deep slumber. It was just a dreamâŠ
When his vision clears properly, heâs met with the sight of his gorgeous girlfriend smiling down at him, eyes amused and affectionate. The real Y/N. His Y/N. Not the dominant commander from the game, but the woman heâs been dating for almost a year. The one he wakes up next, not quite believing that he actually pulled you.His pants are wet, a warm mess from the intense, vivid wet dream. You pull back slightly, still straddling his waist, giving him a little grin.Â
âGood morning, baby. What were you dreaming about, hmm?â you ask, knowingly.
Jungkook's cheeks redden. He reaches for his glasses on the nightstand, putting them on so he can see his beautiful woman properly. Noticing your messy hair, the oversized of his that youâre wearing, the way youâre smiling down at him. Youâre too perfect.
He swallows and speaks raspily. âI had the craziest dream about you.â
You hum, pleased. You love knowing that your shy, introverted boyfriend always has these vivid, filthy dreams about you. It makes you feel even more desired.
âYouâre adorable, Kookie.â you lean down and peck his lips softly. âYou can tell me all about it while I get ready, okay?â
You start to climb off him making Jungkook instantly frown. Before you can get too far, he sits up, grabs your waist and tugs you right down, so youâre straddling his hips again. You gasp softly, hands flying to his shoulders for balance and eyes widening in surprise at the sudden man handling from your usually gentle boyfriend.Â
He pouts up at you. âWhere are you going?â
You raise an eyebrow, still a little surprised by his boldness. âTo work, baby.â
âOn a Saturday?â Jungkook asks with a whine.
Jungkook hates when you have to work on weekends. You already put in long hours all week at your demanding job, and because heâd chosen a much harder course in college, he still has another year of studying ahead. So weekends are supposed to be your time spent together, lazy mornings in bed, him having gaming sessions with you perched on his lap while he tries to teach you how to pay.
You smile softly at him, brushing strands of hair out of his eyes. âYes, my boss asked me to come in today.â
âBut I wanna spend the day with you.â
âI know, Kookie,â you say gently. âBut I have to go in, sheâll be mad at me if I donât. You need to get ready too so you can drop me off, okay?â
He sighs before looking at you pleadingly. âFine⊠but can you at least help me first?â
His hands tighten on your hips as he glances down pointedly at the very obvious, very hard problem tenting his pants. âPlease?â
You glance down, biting your lip. The way heâs looking at you makes it so hard for you to say no. âJungkook, Iâm gonna be late for workâŠâ
âPlease,â he whispers persuasively. âJust a little. I need you.â
You exhale, shaking your head at him. âOkay, okay. What do you want, baby?â
âI want you to ride me.â he says without hesitation.
Your eyebrow arches again, surprised and turned on by how direct heâs being. You lean down to kiss him, slow and deep.
âAlright, Kookie,â you murmur against his lips, already shifting to remove his pyjama pants. âBut we have to be quick.â
âââââ
The morning doesnât stop with you just riding Jungkook. After you rode him, Jungkook flipped you over and ascended down your body until his mouth reached between your thighs. He ate you like was starved, licking your pussy before sucking your clit while inserting two fingers inside you. He didnât stop until you were releasing hard for him, your thighs shaking around his ears as you coated his lips and chin.
You returned the favour eagerly, pushing him back onto his back and taking his long, thick cock into your mouth. As you sucked on him, Jungkookâs head tipped back in the pillows, glasses fogging as groaned. One hand tugged gently as possible on your hair while the other gripped the sheets. You sucked him pleasantly until he was coming down your throat.
Then you climbed on him again, this time in reverse cowgirl. Jungkook had the perfect view of your ass bouncing as you sank down on him, hands braced on his thighs for leverage. Jungkook watched himself disappear inside you over and over, hands gripping your hips and smacking your ass every now and then.
You finished the last round in the shower. The water cascaded over you both as he pressed you against the wall, lifting one of your legs so he could fuck into you deeply as you clung to his shoulders.
By the time youâre done, youâre deliciously sore. You move around the bedroom with a noticeable limp, legs trembling as you get ready for work. Jungkook, meanwhile, had thrown over some casual clothes and sat down in front of his gaming console while waiting for you to get ready.Â
In every game that allows character customisation he very carefully tweaked the female leads and companions to look exactly like you. Every single feature of the characters is identical to yours. Itâs been like this for years, ever since he had fallen in love with you.
You step out of the bedroom and pause into the living room doorway, watching him game, momentarily lost in his virtual world. Heâs hunched forward, headphones on, meshing the buttons as he looks at the screen with a little furrow between his eyebrows. Heâs so cute. Youâve always thought so, even back when you were just classmates in college. He was the quiet guy who sat in the back row and mostly kept to himself. You remember thinking that he was sweet, introverted and one heck of a genius. You never really guessed he harboured a fat ass crush on you the entire time.Â
You limp behind his chair and lean down to press a kiss on his cheek. âIâm ready to go.â
Jungkook pauses his game, spins on his chair and pulls his headphones off. His eyes light up when they land on you then slowly look at you up and down, appreciatively. He sighs softly.
âWhat the hell did I do to deserve you?â he asks, his voice full of wonder. âHow did I get so lucky?â
You giggle and reach for his hands to tug him out of the chair. He stands, towering over you. You look up at him with sparkling eyes.
âWeâre both equally lucky, Kookie.â
He shakes his head, smiling down at you fondly as he pulls you against his chest. âNo way. My girlfriend is the smartest, sweetest, most beautiful woman in the entire universe. I donât know how I got you to be mine.â
You wrap your arms around his neck, beaming up at him. âAnd my boyfriend is the kindest, cutest, hottest man ever. My genius. Iâm just as lucky.â
Jungkook huffs out a laugh, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses. He leans down and kisses you softly at first, then deep and dirty, inserting his tongue into your mouth, trying for another heated make-out session.
You pull back and place your hand on his chest. âWe have to get going, or I really will be late.â
You step away to grab your work bag from the couch, but after a few steps, you stop and wince, feeling a bit sore between your legs. You try to hide the limp, but Jungkook notices. He chuckles behind you. Before you move again, he slides one arm under your knees and lifts you off your feet as his other hand grabs your work bag. You gasp and wrap your arms around his neck for balance.
âJungkook!â
He grins and carries you toward the front door. âCanât have you limping all the way to the car, can I?â
You rest your head against his shoulder, giggling softly. âYouâre right. Iâm thankful my job requires me to sit at a desk most the day instead of walking around too much. Otherwise Iâd be in trouble.â
âWorth it though, right?â he asks, kissing your temple before walking you both out the door, and waiting for you to lock it.
âVery worth it,â you say, kissing his jaw. âMy freaky nerd.â
My main posting blog @cupidsbling is no longer flagged, so i guess i won't need to make this one my main account anymore, but i will still keep it as a backup and post all my stories on here! and thank you guys so much for 120 followers omg! already??
synopsis: running into your ex is never fun especially if you ended things with unfinished business. especially if you're on your way to a date when you see him. especially when it's the âanniversaryâ of your breakup six months ago.Â
contains: mdni, reformed womanizer sukuna, hyperindependent reader, exes to lovers, family issues, slight angst, mentions of therapy, smut (unprotected, marathon sex), sukuna is a little insecure but he's better at the end, 7.2k words
note: why do i insist on writing this trope? sigh. art by fxvcyay on x!
Sukuna is known for being an arrogant, irritable, stubborn and cold-hearted asshole. With his inked, bulky form and ever-present scowl, no one would try to test a man who looks like he'll bite you for breathing too loud. He came across as an unpredictable bull who saw red if someone stared at him for too long as if their being would morph into a flag held by a bullfighter.
And you, unexpectedly, became his bullfighter.
It wasn't even the staggering fact that you went head to head and toe to toe with a man who towered over you and could crush you like a bug beneath his shoe, it was just the confidence and how you carried yourself.Â
The pink-haired man is not as soft or fluffy as his tufts look. He was used to girls begging for another taste yet he never gave them one, seeing it as unfair to let one of them come for seconds when there's just so many women in the world he hasn't graced with his presence yet. It was one of the reasons people tolerated himâhe could unfortunately put his money where his mouth was and his cockiness was not overcompensating for his inadequate size. The fucker is packing. He's also exceptionally intelligent.Â
Enough about himâback to you.Â
When he tried his usual tactics on youâgiving you what you want and then pulling back so you could follow a trail of breadcrumbs that lead to him, crawling on your hands and knees for scraps of his affectionâit blew up in his face. Exceptionally so.Â
The thing about you was that you'd never expect a man to do something for you that you couldn't do for yourself. Changing your flat tire? Done. Fixing a leaking tap? Done. Picking up heavy furniture packages and carrying it into your apartment? Done. Making a lot of money? Done. Going out on dates? Done. Creepy noise outside and someone had to go check but you lived alone and had to do it yourself? Done.Â
That was only a few things you could do, the list could go on.Â
So when you'd asked him if he could pick up your order from a restaurant from the other side of the city that he lived closer to, and he said he couldn't, waiting for you to add a âplease.â You just said, âokayâ and sent another guy to get it for you since you were too lazy to drive there yourself.Â
When he finds out, he's flabbergasted and comes over that very night with all your favorite snacks and sweets to make up for it. You answered the door and shrugged when he apologized, expression disinterested, not upset at all as you said, âItâs not like we're dating. Don't worry about it.â
That was a physical blow to his ego. How could you just use the line he used on other women all the time when they wanted more, on him? Now he was determined to make you want him.Â
And you did. But only for his dick. Something your toys could not replicate unfortunately. But he's sure when the line of shiny, new replace-all-men androids are released and customizable, you'll dump him for a less bothersome, unfeeling robot to match your personality.Â
He never felt asâŠused as he did with you. You'd only call him over when you wanted release, using him like a fucking stress ball except instead of squeezing it in your fist, you were milking his cock with your snug cunt. On top of that, you'd lay him out completely.Â
The sex is incredible, really. He puts you through the mattress and you love every second of it. You do the same to him, riding him until the wheels fall off. But what makes his eye twitch is how easily you get up after, barely a limp in your step as you gather your scattered clothes and go clean up, telling him to see himself out.Â
Since the universe wants to make an example out of him, perhaps give him some karma for all the times he's wronged people, he realises he's in love with you when you snap for the first time at him. Gloriously too, over him having you worried sick because he got into a motorcycle accident even after you fucking told him your arrangement is over if he keeps that death trap that could turn him into a human crayon.Â
Naturally, he sold all of his beloved bikes and asked to be your boyfriend instead.Â
Things were going great but he had to make himself useful out of fear that you'd just get rid of him like an old shoe you once loved then threw away when it got worn down. He became your handyman, mechanic, electrician, plumber, chauffeur, chefâthe works. It's a good thing he's a quick learner.Â
Still, that nagging feeling that you'd never really have any need for him in your life always loomed over him like a dark, pregnant cloud. And you weren't perfect as much as he liked to think you were. You had bad moods, you didn't like people in your space all the time, you were snappy on some days. That was fine, he had his shitty moments too.Â
What made him call it quits was when you broke things off because you were stressed from work, your family was on your back about their expectations despite barely helping you build yourself up to where you were now and you were having a bit of an existential crisis, overthinking your entire life.Â
One of the decisions you made during that time was ending your relationship with him. It fucking hurt, stabbed him right in the chest as a thousand sharp needles but he grit his teeth and beared it. If it was meant to be, you'd have another chance.Â
Though it sucked ass that you had many mutual friends who now had to plan hangouts with either you or him like you were coparents who just divorced and were sharing custody of their children. If you met, all hell would break loose, especially that early in the split.Â
For everyone's sake, you and Sukuna shared a wordless agreement that neither of you could be friends with an ex after a break up. Couldn't stand existing in the same space as someone you gave so much to just to act like there was no intimacy, no history between you. It made your stomach turn to think about.Â
Thankfully, once you ended things, all the shops and places in the city you'd both frequent never saw either of you. You never see flashes of pink amidst the busy crowds and he never hears your contagious laughter amongst the patrons at a restaurant.Â
So imagine your horror and surprise when six months after that faithful day, you run into him on the street while you're on your way to your third date with a decent guy who'd never be him but that was okay. You weren't looking for another gut-wrenching heartbreak.Â
Much to your dismay, he looks better than ever. But so do you. Time does heal all wounds, you suppose. He's glad the dark circles and apathetic expression he wore for the first three months are nowhere to be found as he smirks down at you and you're relieved that you're not running on two hours of sleep, caffeine and sheer spite anymore.Â
Sukuna whistles at the sight of you in your coat, hair all lustrous and silky in the streetlight, face aglow, eyes bright and lips tinted a sultry red that matches the clinging dress you're wearing inside, heels bringing you up to his nose. You always did clean up so nice on a date night, blowing him away even now when this wasn't for him. That didn't mean he couldn't appreciate it from an outsider's perspective even if that reminder did sting a bit.
You begrudgingly think that he looks good too. He's got a fresh cut, the sides of his head tapered, strands akin to bristles that'd tickle your fingers and neck whenever he'd nuzzle his face there, the longer hair at the top pushed back, making his carmine eyes look sharper with a gleam of mirth in them, the tattoos decorating his face hiking up with the quirk of humor on his lips. He's on his way for drinks with Choso and Yuji, their weekly family meet up.
Despite the bored, unimpressed expression on your face, the man has known you for long enough to see the slight flare of surprise in your gaze and the traitorous flutter of your lashes when you take in the button up and jeans he's got on, a chain you gifted him sitting pretty on his neck.Â
âSorry,â he apologises in the least remorseful tone possible, smirk widening when your eyes narrow. There's that emotion he always fought to see when he was courting you. âIs this the part where I turn and run away?âÂ
Rolling your eyes in that arc that's imprinted in his mindâalong with the way you'd drag the first syllable of his given name when you were annoyed but still very much in love with him and the kisses you'd press to his cheek randomly which would give him whiplashâyou sigh.Â
âWe're adults, Sukuna,â you say and ouch, that hurts. He was wishing for a âRyoâ but that's a privilege he lost so he'll endure it. âWe'll just go our separate ways and that's the end of it.âÂ
Lips thinning to hold back his instinctive protest like clenching his fist and pulling on a needy dog's leash so it doesn't break off and run free to tackle you, he nods. âOkay. Have a goodnight.âÂ
That should've been the end of it but to your annoyance and his delight, you set off in the same direction.
âAre you serious?â You hiss, assuming he's following you.Â
Hands stuffed in his pockets so as not to reach out and brush away that unruly strand of hair that always curls on your forehead, kissing your eyebrow like they're long lost lovers, he shrugs with a helpless smile, puffing out a chuckle.Â
âI'm not being a creep. My destination is on this route, baby,â he assures you, tucking his lips into his mouth at his blunder when you cut him a glare for the endearment.Â
âWhatever, just shut up and walk faster so I don't have to see your face every time I look to my left,â you tell him with a dismissive wave.Â
He scoffs in absolute refusal, coral tresses dancing with the breeze as streetlights cast his face in warm light, softening his ink and sharp features. Eyelids lowering, he casts you a flat look from the corner of his eye that's knowing and lazy.
âAnd leave you to walk all the way by yourself, looking like that? You know there's sleazy bastards around here,â he drawls matter-of-factly, glancing down at your shoes and exhaling through his nose as he shakes his head.
It's the same sadistic pair that would leave you limping with blisters by the end of the night. He'd massage your heels when you got home, your legs thrown on his lap as he scolded you about wearing them again while you just said, âBeauty hurts, Ryo.âÂ
âTell me you brought a spare pair,â he almost pleads as he looks to the heavens for guidance because his ex-girlfriend is still a masochist.Â
âNo, I don't need them.âÂ
âSure.âÂ
âYou're free to leave if they're bothering you.âÂ
Somehow he convinces you to come to his car parked nearby as he remembered that he never took your backup heels out of it and you didn't even realize they were missing because you had so many pairs. And yet you still choose these evil ones.Â
Once you put them on, your relief was instant as you groaned and Sukuna's ears went pink from how mildly sexual it sounded.Â
Then, because your date was running late and the restaurant happened to be just across the street from the bar your ex was going to, he invited you to sit with him for a bit.Â
Yuji and Choso are over the moon to see you, having missed you. Their friendship with you was more of a sibling dynamic than anything and they kept in touch even after you broke up with their older brother.Â
âGot a date tonight, huh? You're gonna knock his socks off!â Yuji exclaims, ever your cheerleader, the sides of his eyes crinkling with excitement as he clinks his glass against yours, rosy cheeked already.Â
Sukuna snorts which you ignore but Choso's gaze flicks to him for a second then comes back to you. They're having a private conversation with their eyes for sure which Yuji is oblivious to.Â
âI don't know. It's not my first date with him so he's seen me all dolled up before,â you chuckle lightly, taking a sip of your mocktail since you didn't want to drink in front of a certain someone and spew your thoughts.Â
âWell,â Choso starts and there's something scheming in his eyes. âYou know what they say about the third date.âÂ
Oh. That was not something you'd ever expect him to say. He's always a bit reserved, never this blunt. You let out a surprised laugh, smiling behind the rim of your glass.
Yes, maybe you will let your date have you tonight. It's been too long and you were a bit starved, even catching yourself considering the coworker who was old enough to be your dad.Â
âWe'll see,â you reply playfully, causing Yuji to flush and Choso to shake his head in amusement.Â
Sukuna however does not find you amusing in the slightest. Which is funny because he'd always laugh, even reluctantly when you made a dumb joke that pulled a grin from him.Â
He finds it so lame that he stands and excuses himself, saying he's going outside for some fresh air. And as soon as he's gone, his brothersâ heads turning in unison like meerkats until the door shut behind him, they huddled together, eyes on you.Â
âI knew it!â Yuji whisper-yells in glee, startling you as you never took him for the conspiring type. âHe's still in love with you despite how he insists he isn't.âÂ
You blink. âHe isn't and even if he was, I'm over him.âÂ
Choso arches a thin brow, eyes tracing over your face for even a crack in your resolve. It's unnervingly slow and his eyes are more compelling because of the purple hue around them.Â
âReally?âÂ
âReally.âÂ
Eyeing you for a beat more, he relents and leans back in his seat with a shrug. âOkay, good. I can finally get on his ass to move on now âcause he keeps turning down my offers to set him up with someone new.âÂ
Straightening at that, both men latch on to the action and you want to shrink away but refuse. âWhat does that have to do with me?âÂ
âJust that seeing you moving on tonight was the push he needed to finally let go.âÂ
Here you thought you had healed. Your heart didn't flip when you saw him earlier. Butterflies didn't swarm your tummy. You could look at him without regret but hearing that he was only about to let go of you didn't sit right with you.Â
Maybe you were selfish but you wanted him to hold on. You were holding on too. Stupidly. As if you didn't break things off on a whim. It hurt how easily he accepted it. If he put up more of a fight, you may have had the chance to scare him off entirely but he just upped and left simply because you asked him to.Â
Admittedly, it stung that he didn't fight for you but you know deep down that it would have driven you away if he pressed on a matter that you were adamant about while you were in a fragile state. He showed you he loved you by letting you go.Â
But he was about to do it again, no fight like the brawls he'd get into before you met, no anger like the one that would simmer in his eyes when his loved ones were hurt, no yelling when he took off with disrespectful pricks. He had that fire in him but he never used it to burn you, just warm youâengulfed you in an embrace of coral pink and glimmering crimson.Â
âGood for him,â is all you can say since there's nothing else you want to admit.Â
Both men study you then go back to filling you in on their own relationships as they can see that you need the distraction. Yuko and Yuki are their girlfriends and you're familiar with both women, adoring how well they suit the brothers.Â
A buzz from your phone alerts you that your date has arrived at the restaurant so you bid the boys goodbye and head outside.Â
Sukunaâs just about to walk in when you step out. His jaw clenches when he watches you exit with the chime of the overhead bell.Â
âEnjoy your date,â he tells you, though there's an underlying bitterness in his tone that makes it come off more than he's cursing the man and his firstborn child.Â
You don't let it provoke you as you nod curtly, feeling a tad bit uncertain about your choices now. A man who was clearly smitten with you was waiting for you and yet you were here, lingering just a second in case the one you left asks for you back.Â
Shoving down those ridiculous thoughts, you go to walk away, heels clicking on the gravel when he calls out to you, brows lowered like they did when he notices something is off with you.Â
âYou okay?âÂ
âNever better.âÂ
There's a flash of frustration that creases his forehead briefly before he steps forward, the scent of his cologne, aftershave and soap dizzying you as his shadow falls over you.Â
âDon't give me that. Here, let me fix your coat. It's all skewed. Can't have you making a bad impression,â he fusses like he used to fix the collars of your shirt before you both left for work in the mornings, steady hands smoothing out your shoulder pads and adjusting the lapels.Â
âWouldn't want people thinking I have bad taste when they see my ex all disheveled,â he mutters slyly after, making it about him to get a reaction out of you.
Breath hitching, it feels like his rough, calloused palms are skimming over your bare body, breasts tightening from the mere graze, full and heavy as your nipples pinch, pebbling.Â
Arching a rosy brows in suspicion, the familiar, discerning spark in his scarlet irises threaten to shatter you into pieces as he hums, a low, guttural sound that thrums all the way from your chest down to your clit, heat pooling in your lower belly and seeping between your thighs.Â
âSure you're good?â He reiterates his earlier question, fully aware that you aren't if the white hot flash that blows your pupils wide and your hooded eyes are anything to go by.Â
âI'm the best I've ever been,â you breathe.Â
Gaze raking over you, it's agonizing as it drags up and down the length of your body like he's got x-ray vision. And maybe he does because his eyes catch alight and he moves before you can stop him.Â
Deft fingers slide down the sensitive side of your glitteryâthanks to your body butterâneck and sweep across your collarbone, goosebumps pricking your smooth skin. Two hook onto the dip of your neckline and tug it forward, his gaze dropping down to the valley of your breasts, warmth licking at the corners of his vision at the lace hugging the swells of your chest.Â
Accusatory eyes find yours, squinting as that fury you were secretly longing for sets his irises alight, the hunger in them overshadowed by it.Â
âThe red set you wore for my birthday?â He grits out between clenched teeth, seething like the bubbling hot lava in your stomach, heart climbing up your throat.Â
âI just wanted to see if my girls are good,â he says in a way that'd make people think you had kids together. They'd be horrified if they knew that's how he referred to your tits, occasionally pulling at your shirts to look down at them and sigh dreamily like a perv while you laughed and pushed him away. âAnd you're dressed up in my gift for some fucker who'll probably slip it in the wrong hole?âÂ
Face on fire as passerbys avert their gazes, your own ire rises at that as you pull away. âIt was your gift but that's long over now.âÂ
He juts his jaw at the restaurant. âYeah? Then why are you here and not running along to your dinner reservations? Wouldn't wanna be late, would you?âÂ
Bristling, you glower, chin raised and nose cocked in defiance that he'd always kiss off. âDon't get cocky, Sukuna. Your brothers told me you're only just now moving on so I simply pitied you enough to see how you're doing before I leave.âÂ
The air grows cold after you say that, but he graces you with a scorching heat from the darkest, angriest expression you've ever seen marring his harsh features. Though marring would be the wrong word as he's still so fucking handsome.Â
âJust because they think I haven't been with anyone else, doesn't mean it's true. You of all people should know that I don't go yapping about my personal life like that.âÂ
Your breathing ceases. âSo you've been with other people?âÂ
It's his turn to be insolent, staring at you down the line of his nose. âWhat if I have? It's none of your business, right?â
Jaw flexing, you nod. âRight.â
Turning on your heel, you walk in the wrong direction. âHey! The restaurant is that way.âÂ
âI know, you fucking prick!â The vitriol in your voice halts him in his steps, the livid click-clacks of your heels nearly deafening. âI'm going to your car to get my heels in case you use that to try and see me again. Or worse, give it to one of your flings thinking it's theirs.â
âGreat going, genius. You don't even have my keys,â he growls, marching after you. You think he's jogging now as his footfalls get faster and you hate that satisfaction loosens the knot in your chest at the fact that he's giving chase.Â
Gunshots and grenades could not hold a candle to the shouts and concerningly colourful expletives that left you both, ringing out into the night air as you stomped to the car. It was the anxiety-inducing kind that promised nothing good was about to come from it and the bystanders who were unlucky enough to witness the verbal sparring steered clear of you both as if you could draw your weapons and fight at any moment without any regard for the innocents nearby. Some even had the cops ready on speed dial.Â
Fortunately for them, Sukuna argued with you into his passenger seat since he apparently âruined your moodâ so you canceled the date, the back and forth continuing all the way to his penthouse, ending in a fistful of kisses in the elevator as the numbers ascended, lips smacking and saliva swapping with aggressive hair pulls, harsh breaths and moans that sounded like you hated yourselves for doing this.Â
That didn't stop either of you from fumbling with his key card, cussing when the jarring, incorrect beep would cut through your pawing hands trying to get each other's coats off. When it eventually opened, you almost fell through the doorway with a squeaky yelp but he banded a burly arm around your waist, pulling you flushed to him and chuckling.Â
âStill a clumsy thing, huh?âÂ
âFuck you.âÂ
âThat's the idea.âÂ
A hasty trail of clothes lay strewn on his polished floors, his pants and your dress hanging like drying laundry on the railing of his stairs that lead up to the bedrooms.
Of course, Sukuna doesn't make it easy for you. Not after you hurt him by kicking him out of your life at the time he'd be needed the most.Â
The lace of your panties are soaked with your slick as he ruts his cock against your slippery folds over the fabric. You're spread out under him on the bed, clutching his sheets so you don't claw at his inked body with your manicured nails for being a fucking tease.Â
âNow, now, don't pout, baby,â he coos mockingly, enjoying torturing you too much with his blushing cock lined with veins and topped off with a dark pink tip, bubbling with pearls of precum at the slit.
Your thighs are hooked over his parted thighs that are digging into the mattress as he rocks back and forth between your legs, grinning at how the sopping cloth clings to your slit with your wet, pussy eating up the lace to feel more of him.Â
âSukuna, if you don't put it in, I swearââ
âYou're gonna leave me again?â His voice loses its lightness, the edges sharpening like his gaze strikes you in the chest. The hurt swirling in his irises has a lump gathering in your throat.Â
âMaybe I will,â you find yourself stubbornly saying. âBut if you want to chafe your cock by rubbing it over my panties all night then by all means, carry on. Just don't complain when it burns when you shower.âÂ
A huff leaves him at your pathetic excuse and he grips your hips, dragging you closer as he grinds between your swollen lips. âI'll be fine.âÂ
The underside of his cock runs down your folds with slick, slightly muted rustles and a gasp kicks out of your chest when his tip nudges your clit. He angles his hips to let it happen over and over again until you're breathless and whining from the tingling friction tickling your lower belly.Â
The lips of your cunt nestle his cock, wavering with each back and forth buck of his hips. You lift your own for more, elbows aching from where they're pressed into the bed to hold you up.Â
âRyo, please,â you concede, using his name and your forgotten manners to hit him where it hurts.Â
It does the job as he tears off your flimsy underwear with a biting rip at your hip, your plump flesh recoiling when the cloth snaps and sags then sails in the air to land on the floor like a fallen soldier.Â
âI thought you liked those!â You lament, mourning the loss of one of your favorite sets.Â
Clicking his tongue, he scowls at you. âLost its appeal when you were about to wear it for someone else.âÂ
You purse your lips to suppress a smile at that. Contrary to his belief, you haven't slept with anyone since the breakup so that's the reason you're so worked up about him doing so.Â
That reminder has you frowning and he cups your chin, lifting your gaze to his.Â
âI haven't been with anyone either,â he clears your doubts which makes you wonder if you said all that out loud. But Sukuna's always been good at reading your thoughts.Â
âWhat makes you think I've been celibate?â You huff at the confidence in his voice.Â
âFor one, you're freshly waxed which I'm honestly offended about. My girl likes a trim and a low taper fade,â he answers so seriously and you have to stifle your laugh as your eyes narrow.Â
Being the little shit he is, he pats your pubic mound solemnly, palm petting your smooth, bare skin like he's comforting it after it was violated by your wax lady.Â
âAnd two,â he adds, going to demonstrate.Â
A sexy deadpan paints his face as he slides a hand between your bodies, coating it in your pooling slick and pushes it into your puddling hole which for all its arousal puts up telling resistance of someone who hasn't fucked anyone in a while.Â
Say, six months.Â
The stretch burns slightly which embarrasses you as it is only one finger. Drawing it out, he lifts it to the light, webbing the slick between his fingers like an artist admiring his work. Then he sucked them clean.Â
âLooks like I have to fuck you nice and slow first, huh?âÂ
âSo you don't come quick?âÂ
âYou fucking infuriating woman,â he cusses and you laugh.Â
Though you wish you could say you took him as easily as the last time, you couldn't. But you were a trooper even when he dipped his tip in and you felt so full, asking if he put it all the way, earning an apologetic smile and kiss to the cheek from him.Â
Even when the backs of your eyes burned, when you were overwhelmed about feeling well and truly stuffed, when the pain caught in your stomach and had you scratching at his abdomenâyou took it like a champ.Â
He did well too, all his muscles pulled taut so he didn't bully the rest of himself into you, face pressed into your neck to ground himself in your yummy scent while his own surrounded you along with his weight, warmth and soothing voice.
âThat's it, baby. Let me in, slow and steady,â he murmurs, thumb rubbing at your clit so your cunt flutters and sucks him in deeper, stretching to accommodate an old friend.Â
The stinging pain eased into a delicious fullness that had you bucking up to get more of him inside you and he gladly obliged.Â
A tremble rolled through you as he sinks all the way in, shuddering groans falling from both your mouths, lips brushing. Head spinning, a wave of pleasant dizziness washes over you as his cock throbs inside you, hugged by your gooey, molten walls.Â
Puffing a laugh against your lips, he presses a sweet kiss to them. âLook at them getting reacquainted, hmm? Oh, I missed her.â
You loll your head to the side, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes and cocking a brow when you see he's fixated on how he's splitting you open on his cock, base kissing the outline of your slit. He gives you a sheepish smile when he sees you caught him.Â
âI'd say I missed you too but you didn't miss me.âÂ
You glare at him for that as you both know you won't admit it now.Â
At least not yet, Sukuna thinks.Â
âSuch a good girl. Always taking me well,â he praises in a low, mind-melting whisper, thrusting short, quick thrusts to get you used to it. âSo fucking good. So good for me, baby.âÂ
The pressure of his shaft within you is hot and sweet, saliva pooling in your mouth as you watch him pull out and push back in with a breathy groan as you whimper from the loss then moan as he fills you to the brim once more.Â
It's slow and deep then fast and hard, alternating in the most delirious, rhythmic pace that makes the room sway, your mind sweeping away into a whirlpool of warmth, steam permeating within your body. Bracing your hands on his forearms, you hold onto the only solid thing so you stay afloat and don't get pulled under.Â
A fluffy haze blankets the room, heavy, thick and flaring with each obscene squelch, slap of sweat-slicked skin, airy sigh, wanton moan, guttural groan and low grunt that spills into the toasty air.Â
Sukuna is all over you, mouth latching onto your nipples, sucking hickeys into your flesh, biting at every inch of skin he can sink his teeth into, kissing you wet, bruising and messy, licking the whimpers that drip from your lips and humming in approval when you suck on his tongue, cunt fluttering around his cock and drawing his orgasm closer.Â
You were an untamed wildfire and he was both gasoline to worsen you and cool water to douse you. Each thrust in fanned your flames while every drag out snuffed it out only to breathe life into it again with the following snap of his hips.Â
âStill mine after all this time, hmm?âÂ
âNo,â you denied through a wavering voice.
It was from his pelvis grinding against your clit and the brush of his chest against your breasts that had branches of dazzling electricity spreading through your body and making you shudder from the friction, not his words.Â
âNo?â His brows crease as he fucks into you deeper, pushing the moans out of your chest, low and raspy. âWho's pussy is this?â he asks in a grouchy tone, overly possessive and you let out a throaty giggle at that.Â
You'd always told him how cringy you found that dirty talk line and he'd jokingly say it to pull laughter from you during sex like right now. He can't even stay in character, thrusts slowly as he laughs too, the sound vibrating through you.Â
âHmm, it's mine but I'm willing to share,â you purr, ducking your head and biting at his peck, feeling it yield beneath your teeth as he moans, fingers tracing the dark, intricate markings lining his tan skin.Â
âI can live with that,â he breathes, both of you breaking into panting laughter after, the atmosphere lighthearted and intimate before you're lost in the sea of feeling and the desperate, urgent drag of your bodies once more.Â
Rays of silvery moonlight spill into the dark of his bedroom, the celestial body a peeping tom to how the big, scary tattooed man puts you in every single position he can think ofâmissionary, prone bone, doggy, mating press, full nelson and so onâgiving and giving while you're taking and taking.Â
You don't take it lying down, of course, making him take just as much as he's giving as you take him in cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, lotus, amazon, and much more. Hell, the full moon must've been blushing from all that it saw, cursing its curiosity as the erotic noises from the lovers deafened it.Â
Over and over again, the building pressure in your lower belly bursts into sparkling, tingling flames as you come, a shiver wracking through your body, melting into a boneless heap of languid heat on the bedding. Sukuna does too, many times, that tingling in his groin rising up his cock and spilling hot, sticky come inside you, white spots flashing behind his eyelids.
Sukuna can feel it coming before you even move, before you even think about doing it as you're laying on his chest, cheek squished to his pec, the steady rise and fall of his breaths to lull you as if the gods carved him out just for you to have somewhere to rest when the world becomes too much or when you just want to feel cared for.Â
You're always like this after sex, at least when you two became an official couple two years ago. It was like the established relationship let you, slowly, open up and show that you were no stranger to the human desire for love too.Â
And he was so ready to give it to you, wholly. So when you're all soft, pliable and floating on the cloud of your bliss, he simply stares at the ceiling, hoping the contentment in his chest lasts even if you decide to leave him.Â
To call this a mistake. To say it was just a way to go out with a bang. To break his heart that finally started beating properly just a few days ago all over again.Â
Maybe he was never made for softness, for gentle love but fuck, you made him so tender and fond, spinning his insides until they were sweet and fuzzy like cotton candy. There is strength in being soft and he learnt that with you, having to be the safety net that catches you when you plummet from those unreachable heights you stand at so nothing can hurt you.Â
Sniffling tears him out of his thoughts and he freezes, the fingers combing through your tousled hair to detangle the knots from your rendezvous pausing. He doesn't speak, doesn't pry, doesn't even breathe as he feels his skin dampen from liquid that isn't drool or sweat.Â
It's your tears.Â
You're crying.Â
Arms wrapping around his trimmed waist, you cling to him with a hug that shocks him from how vulnerable and tight it is, like he may flee if you don't hold on, like he's the mountain you're standing at the edge of.
âI'm so sorry, Ryo,â you apologise wetly and he knows it isn't because you called him an idiot earlier or for saying you'll leave him again, both of you aware that you weren't serious.Â
It's for breaking up with him and it twists his heartstrings into a ball of aching pain that makes it hard to breathe, one he can't untangle as easily as your messy strands.Â
âIt's okay,â he whispers but his eyes burn as he knows it fucking isn't. The way your bottom lip juts out, fat tears welling in your eyes when you look up at him, chin propped on your flat palms on his chest, tells him you're well aware.Â
âShut up,â you hush him, looking up to try and stem the waterworks so you can carry on. âI got caught up in my head. Wanted to get rid of everything so I could focus on the main problems at hand.â
âI was having doubts about whether I deserved you or not, on whether you deserved me,â you admit, brows scrunching. âMy parents pressuring me about finding someone they chose and constantly putting me down about not choosing the career they wanted me to have became too much.â
âI had to let you go so I wouldn't grow to resent you like I was starting to resent them. I couldn't do that to you. Now that I've let go of trying to meet their expectations and pleasing them, I wanted to let you know,â you tell him.Â
You weren't expecting him to take you back or whatever sappy romance movie plot would end with. You made your bed so you'd lay in it. You just wanted him to know as he was one of the many people in your life, from the found family you built, that told you to stop letting your parents rule you.Â
It took pushing him away to do that and you weren't cruel enough to ask him to come back after all that damage.Â
With a heavy exhale, he lets go of the tension that had locked up his body, absorbing your words. Then his hand came up, thumb swiping away your tears as he took in your red-rimmed, puffy eyes, glassy gaze, the raw, unfiltered version of the tough woman he fell for.Â
The one who built herself up out of spite, became successful out of pettiness, was self-sufficient so she'd never have to ask her parents who treated raising a child as a transactional affair as if a baby could sign a contract to agree to it.Â
âAre you doing better now?â is the first thing he asks and you want to cry more because he's still looking out for you despite it all.Â
A wobbling smile pulls at your lips as you nod with a shaky breath. âYeah, I am. Finally got rid of all the clutter in my life,âÂ
While you couldn't cut off your parents completely, you set strict boundaries that you wouldn't be shy to show them the consequences for if they crossed them. They had behaved so far.Â
A proud thing tugs at the corners of his mouth at that. So you actually did it. âMore room for the things you want now?âÂ
He wants to ask if there's room for him but stops himself. Fucking you had already turned into something slow and tender that felt awfully close to making love and now you're cuddling, having a heart-to-heart.Â
He's already behaved in enough ways tonight to show you how pathetically in love with you he still is. How it's probably never going to go away and linger like a scent that's always around like that time Yuji spilled fabric softener in the laundry room and the lavender, baby powder fragrance is still there.Â
You're his greatest love and that'll remain true no matter how this ends.Â
With a shaky breath, you nod. âYeah.âÂ
So he pulls you closer, further up his body with his hands on your hips then slides them up to your face, cupping it and pressing kisses from your jaw that tightens when you're upset with him, to your cheeks that warm when you're flustered by his teasing, forehead that creases when you frown to hide your amusement, nose that wrinkles when you disagree and finally, a soft, sleepy one to your lips that fix to scold him when he does something stupid.Â
He rests his forehead against yours, eyes sliding shut. âI'm so happy for you.âÂ
âThank you,â you murmur, softening further as your lips quiver to ask a question that sits heavy on your tongue. âAre you doing better now?âÂ
A beat of silence envelops the room, only the distant sounds of car honks, far away music from nightclubs and laughter from neighbors returning home, drunk and happy breaking the quiet.Â
âYou did hurt me. But I knew it was gonna come eventually. From the moment we met, you seemed to have everything figured out. I never thought I'd fit into your frame, you know? I was the only thing that could be replaced as easily as you toss out junk and garbage.â
The urge to shake your head and refuse is hard to resist but you do, letting him say his piece.Â
âSo when you wanted to break up, I let it happen because I thought that nothing I would say could change your mind. It sucked. A lot. But the time we spent apart helped me heal and start seeing a therapist so I could get over that feeling.âÂ
He smiles at you then. âI'm doing much better now. The insecurity was easy to work through once I realized that it stemmed from me and also how I took the way you lived your life too personally.âÂ
âDon't blame yourself when we both know I had a lot to do with it too. I never asked you to do stuff because I didn't want you to have something to throw back in my face like my parents do. I should have loved you the way you wanted to be loved like you loved me in the way you knew I would appreciate.â
Your accountability, as always, has the last of his slight resentment towards you seeping out of his body with his content sigh.Â
âGuess we both needed therapy, huh?â you chuckle and he nods.Â
It's quiet again and then you rip off a bandaid.Â
âIf you're not going to see anyone soon, do you think that maybe we could hook up again?âÂ
Rearing back, he nearly hits his head against the headboard but your hand shoots out and stops him as he blinks at you incredulously, lip curling in disgust.Â
âAre you fucking serious?âÂ
That's just the reality check you need. What were you thinking? Sitting up, you shake your head.Â
âNo, forget it. That was inconsiderate of me to ask.âÂ
You move to climb off him, wanting to spare your crumbling dignity and flee before he can reject you again but he catches your wrist and pulls you back.Â
Saying your name in a stern, indecipherable tone, he holds your gaze, expression unreadable but angry.Â
âAsking me to be your fuck buddy after all we've been through? Are you fucking kidding me?âÂ
Drawing you closer, his gaze bores into yours. âIf we're doing this again, I'm going to be your boyfriend again. Don't insult me further by trying to make me a damn toy.âÂ
Gaping, your mouth opens and closes as your brain glitches. Shit, you were just about to unintentionally make him feel used again when he just fucking told you he'd felt that way for a long time!Â
âIâNo, I thought that'd be easier. I didn't want to try and date again after all I put you throughââ
âBaby,â he calls out, reeling you in. âWe have too much history to go back to being friends with benefits. I want to be your boyfriend again and in a few years, if you want, your husband.â
There's no going back now. You've shown him that you do need him, do want him in your life. He's not going to hold that over your head like a pawn. He's going to wear it like the badge of honor it is. His Nobel Prize.Â
Watery eyed again, you choke on a sob, nodding vigorously as you hug him. âOkay. Thank you for giving me another chance, Ryo.âÂ
âDon't mess this up,â he jokes.Â
âI'll try not to.âÂ
âI won't leave either way,â he rumbles. âHappy anniversary by the way,â he wishes you as it is the day you abruptly broke his heart that is now finally mended.
Chuckling, you hold him tighter, kissing his neck and shutting your eyes, the last piece of your desired life finally slotting into place.Â
âHappy anniversary, Ryo.âÂ
note: i am still on a little break but like always, i wrote this on a whim at 3am
you wrote this masterpiece on a whim!!! iâm literally crying that was so raw and beautiful!! i love reading pieces of work where the fmc isnât perfect! and even if i did feel annoyed at times it reminds me how important putting yourself first is!!
i donât blame her for how she acted however ofc it wasnât the nicest for sukuna and he handled it well!
that conversation was so profound and so meaningfulâ i hope that i can always be a person who takes accountability liek they do! itâs such an important message
The first time he called you stupid, you were seven years old, sitting on the curb with a scraped knee and tears streaming down your face.
âYouâre stupid, you know that?â Sukuna had said, standing over you with his arms crossed. But even then, his hands werenât as harsh as his words. He had knelt down, slapping a neon Band-Aid over the cut with clumsy fingers. âStop crying. Itâs just blood.â
âShut up,â you had sniffled, wiping your nose on your sleeve. âYou dared me to jump off the swing.â
âYeah, I didnât think youâd actually do it.â
That was the baseline. The constant. Sukuna was the boy who pushed you into the dirt and then pulled you back up, dusting you off while complaining about it the entire time.
By the time you hit fourteen, things started shifting. It wasnât some grand, cinematic epiphany. It was a Tuesday. You were sitting on his bedroom floor, doing algebra homework while he played some first-person shooter on his console. You looked up to ask him a question, and the words just died in your throat.
He had grown over the summer. His shoulders were broader, his jawline sharper, and his voice had dropped an octave that made something in your stomach flip. He caught you staring, pausing the game and turning his head.
âWhat?â he asked, raising an eyebrow.
âNothing,â you muttered, quickly looking back down at your textbook. Your face felt hot.
âYouâre staring at me like Iâve got two heads. Do I have shit on my face?â
âNo, youâre just ugly,â you shot back, a defense mechanism youâd perfected over the years.
Sukuna scoffed, throwing a crumpled-up piece of paper ate your head. âFuck off. Youâre just mad youâre still built like a twig.â
You rolled your eyes, but your heart was hammering against your ribs. That was the year the crush settled in, quiet and persistent. By fifteen, it was a dull ache. By sixteen, it was a living, breathing thing that sat between you on the couch, rode in the passenger seat of his beat-up Honda, and lingered in the spaces between your fingers when your hands brushed.
What you didnât know was that somewhere between sixteen and eighteen, Sukuna was having a crisis of his own.
He looked at you one night while you were laughing at a stupid joke he made, the streetlights catching the curve of your smile, and it hit him so hard he couldnât breathe. He was neck-deep in love with you. But Sukunaâs world was chaotic, angry, and unpredictable. You were the only thing that made sense. You were the only constant. If he crossed that line and they crashed and burnedâwhich, knowing him, they wouldâhe would lose you. And he couldnât survive that.
So, he built a wall. A transparent one, but a wall nonetheless.
When you were nineteen, you tried to break it down.
It was raining, and you were both sitting in his car outside your apartment building. The engine was off, the windows fogging up from your breath. The tension in the small space was suffocating.
âAre you going to go out with him?â Sukuna asked, his voice tight. He was staring straight ahead at the dashboard, his jaw clenched so hard you thought his teeth might crack. He was talking about a guy from your psych class who had asked yo out.
âI donât know,â you said softly, turning your head to look at his profile. âDo you want me to?â
âI don't know, why the hell are you asking me.â
You shifted in your seat, turning your body toward him. You were so tired of the games. So tired of the almosts. âGive me a reason to say no, Sukuna. Just one.â
He finally looked at you, and the sheer desperation in his eyes made your breath hitch. He looked like he wanted to devour you, to pull you across the console and never let you go. His hand twitched on the steering wheel.
âWe could be more, you know,â you whispered, reaching out to touch his wrist.
He flinched, pulling his arm back just an inch, but it felt like a mile. âDonât.â
âSukunaââ
âI said donât,â he snapped, his voice rough. He ran a hand through his hair, looking away. âDonât ruin this. Youâre my best friend. Youâre the only good thing Iâve got. Donât fuck it up by making it complicated.â
The rejection felt like a physical blow. You swallowed hard, nodding slowly as you pulled your hand back to your lap. âRight. Okay. I wonât ruin it.â
You got out of the car that night with a fractured heart, and the wall between you turned to concrete.
College was a masterclass in tiptoeing.
You both fell into a larger circle of friends, which made it easier to hide the tension.
It was a Friday night at Gojoâs off-campus apartment. The music was vibrating through the floorboards, the air thick with the smell of cheap beer and weed. You were sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging your legs, watching the chaos unfold in the living room.
âYou look like youâd rather be anywhere else,â a soft voice said.
You looked over to see Choso leaning against the fridge, holding out a red Solo cup filled with water.
âIs it that obvious?â you asked, taking the cup with a grateful smile.
âOnly to people paying attention,â he replied, taking a sip of his own drink. His eyes held yours for a second longer than necessary, warm and steady.
Across the room, you felt the weight of a stare. You didnât even have to look to know it was Sukuna. He was sitting on the arm of the sofa, a beer dangling losely from his fingers, his eyes narrowed as he watched you and Choso.
âAre you two ever gonna just fuck and get it over with?â Gojo yelled over the music, slinging an arm around Sukunaâs shoulders and pointing at you.
The entire room seemed to quiet down for a split second. Utahime smacked the back of Gojoâs head. âSatoru, shut the fuck up.â
âWhat? Iâm just saying what weâre all thinking!â Gojo whined, rubbing his head.
âFuck off,â Sukuna snarled, shoving Gojoâs arm off him. He didnât look at you. He just stood up and walked out onto the balcony, slamming the sliding glass door behind him.
You forced a laugh, looking down at your water. âHeâs just drunk. Ignore him.â
Choso didnât laugh. He just watched you carefully. âAre you okay?â
âYeah,â you lied, your chest aching. âIâm good.â
That was how it went for years. Always okay with how things were, but never enough. Sukuna was always thereâhe helped you move apartments, he threatened guys who looked at you wrong, he remembered your coffee order down to the exact amount of sugar. But he never crossed the line. He kept you safely in the âbest friendâ box, terrified that if he took you out, heâd break you.
And you let him. Because having a piece of him was better than having nothing at all.
_______
It was a few weeks before graduation. The reality of the real world was looming over all of you, making everyone a little more reckless, a little more desperate to hold onto the present. You were all gathered in Shokoâs living room, sitting in a messy circle on the floor, surrounded by empty bottles of tequila.
âAlright, Never Have I Ever,â Geto announced, leaning back against the couch. âNever have I ever⊠failed a class and lied to my parents about it.â
Gojo, Shoko, and Utahime drank.
The game went on, the questions getting progressively more invasive as the alcohol hit. You were sitting cross-legged, your knee almost brushing Sukunaâs. He was quiet tonight, his eyes heavy and dark as he watched the group. Choso was sitting on your other side, his presence a comforting weight.
âMy turn,â Shoko said, swirling the amber liquid in her glass. She looked around the circle, âNever have I ever⊠been in love with someone in this room.â
The room went silent.
Gojo smirked and took a sip. Geto rolled his eyes but drank. Utahime glared at Gojo and took a shot.
You stared at your cup. Your heart was pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears. You could've lied, but you didn't. You were twenty-two years old. You were graduating. You were so goddamn tired of hiding, so you made one selfish thing. One desperate move that you onow would open a pandora box within this corcle.
You raised your cup to your lips and took a long drink.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sukuna freeze. His hand, which had been resting on his knee, gripped the fabric of his jeans so hard his knuckles turned white. He didnât drink.
âNo,â Nanami said, adjusting his glasses. âThatâs not the game. Leave it.â
âDon't be a party pooper,â Satoru suddenly said, a hint of mischievousness strengthen by the alcohol evident in his voice. He turned his head to look at you, his eyes burning into yours. âWho?â
The room felt like it had been sucked into a vacuum. Sukuna shifted beside you, his knees tensing, but he didnât say a word.
âSatoru, drop it,â Geto warned softly.
âWhat! I'm just asking?â Satoru repeated, ignoring everyone else. You met his gaze, the tequila making you brave, or maybe just stupid. âYou want to know?â
âYeah. I do.â
You didn't need to mention his name, you looked beside you; towards Sukuna, and he was looking intensely at you, your voice remarkably steady despite the way your hands were shaking. âYou. Since we were fourteen.â
Someoneâprobably Utahimeâsucked in a sharp breath.
Sukuna stared at you, the words hitting him like a physical blow. His expression shattered, the indifference slipping to reveal absolute panic. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
âBut it doesnât matter,â you continued, forcing a bitter smile. You set your cup down on the floor and stood up. âBecause youâd rather be safe than be with me. Iâm gonna go get some air.â
You walked out of the apartment, the heavy silence following you down the hallway. You made it to the alleyway behind the building before the tears started falling. You leaned against the brick wall, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself against the chill of the night.
The heavy metal door creaked open a minute later. You didnât have to look to know who it was.
âDid you mean it?â Sukuna asked. His voice was stripped of all its usual arrogance.
You wiped your cheeks roughly. âWhy would I lie about that? I tried once when we were in freshman, remember?â
He stepped closer, stopping just a few feet away. He looked wrecked. âSince we were fourteen?â
âYes, Sukuna. Are you really that blind?â
âIâm not blind,â he snapped, running both hands over his face. âIâm just⊠fuck. You donât get it.â
âThen explain it to me!â you yelled, pushing off the wall. âExplain why you look at me like you want me, why you act like Iâm yours, but the second I try to make it real, you push me away!â
âBecause I ruin everything!â he yelled back, his chest heaving. âLook at me! Iâm a fucking mess. Iâm angry, Iâm selfish, and I destroy everything I touch. You are the only beautiful thing in my life. If we try this, and we crash and burn⊠I lose you. I canât lose you. I would rather have you as my friend forever than have you as mine for a year and lose you for the rest of my life.â
The confession hung in the air, heavy and devastating.
You looked at him, really looked at him. At the fear in his eyes, the desperate way he was holding himself together. He loved you. He loved you so much it terrified him.
But it wasnât enough.
âSukuna,â you whispered, your voice breaking. âBy not trying⊠youâre losing me anyway. I canât keep waiting for you to be brave enough to love me out loud.â
He flinched, taking a step back as if you had struck him. âWhat are you saying?â
âIâm saying Iâm done waiting. I'm asking you now, please... just please let's try and make it work.â He stared at you long, voice dying in his throat. He wasn't used to feeling anything other than anger, of all the times he felt happiness.. it was all during the times he shared with you.
He wasn't sure if he can risk losing you, the first time he felt like the world favored him was today, when he heard that you wantes to be with him.. but what can a broken man do when he was raised to believe that all the things he own will be destroyed one day?
When Sukuna didn't speak, you walked past him, your shoulder brushing his. He didnât reach out to stop you. He just stood there in the dark, letting you go to save the friendship.
_____
Four years later.
The music swells, a soft acoustic melody that fills the garden. The sun is shining, catching the delicate lace of your white dress as you stand at the beginning of the aisle.
You take a deep breath, clutching the bouquet of white roses in your hands. Your father pats your arm, smiling proudly.
âReady?â he asks.
âReady,â you whisper.
You start walking. The faces of your friends and family blur together, a sea of smiles and happy tears. Gojo is dabbing his eyes dramatically with a handkerchief, Geto is laughing at him, Shoko is smiling softly, and Utahime looks like sheâs trying not to cry.
And then, at the end of the aisle, is Choso.
He looks incredibly handsome in his tailored suit, his dark hair pulled back neatly. But itâs his eyes that ground you. They are so full of love, so steady, so absolutely certain. Choso never hesitated.
From the moment you took his hand that night after the party when you went inside, after Sukuna stayed quiet, after Sukuna stayed a coward; Choso on the otherhand made it clear that he wanted you. All of you. He wasnât afraid of ruining anything, because he was determined to build something unbreakable.
You smile, your heart swelling with a quiet, peaceful kind of love.
You walked, eyes catching the movement in the front row, on the brideâs side.
Sukuna.
Heâs wearing a suit, which is a miracle in itself. His hair is pushed back, and he looks older, sharper. He is your Man of Honor, a title he accepted with a tight smile and a nod when you asked him six months ago.
You meet his eyes as you pass by his row.
He is smiling at you, a soft, genuine smile that doesnât reach his eyes. His eyes are screaming. They are filled with a grief so profound, an agony so deep, it almost makes you stumble.
In that split second, an entire lifetime passes between you. The scraped knees, the late-night drives, the shared looks across crowded rooms, the unspoken words that suffocated you both.
He didnât ruin the friendship.
He kept his promise. He stayed your best friend, your constant, the guy who helped you pick out the catering menu for your wedding and threatened the florist when they got the order wrong.
He didnât ruin the friendship.
As you break eye contact and look back at Choso, stepping up to the altar and taking your soon-to-be husbandâs hands, Sukuna realizes the devastating truth.
He didnât ruin the friendship.
But he never won either.
He watches you smile at Choso, the way your eyes crinkle at the corners, the way you look so incredibly safe and loved. He swallows hard, the lump in his throat feeling like shattered glass. He wishes he could say he never lost you. He wishes he could say that keeping you as a friend was enough.
Chosoâs thumb gently strokes the back of your hand as the officiant speaks; Sukuna lowers his head, staring at the grass beneath his polished shoes.
He kept you in his life. But he lost you all the same. Atleast he didn't ruin the friendship... right?
an: the way i yearn for bestfriend sukuna fic where he doesn't end up w reader; i've had the song ruin the friendship stuck in my mind for the past 2 weeks and I had to write this down.. i should've just killed him off here, but i can't. â°ïžđ«”đ»
ouchie! i think reading this makes me never want to wish unrequited (but technically requited love) on anyone! iâm talking out loud here but itâs easy to think that this could be me, acting as a background character in my own life but i feel that way because iâve never experienced love or a relationship.
i do wish i end up with the person who loves me back wholly and isnât shy to tell the world! i do promise to them that iâll make sure they donât go a day without knowing i love them đđ
Jeon jungkook x reader one shot based on his weverse live; boyfriend jk missing his girlfriend
âhe looked warm. comfortable. very, very drunk. and ridiculously adorable.â
âthe kind of drunk where every thought in his head became honest.â
the call came at almost 5 a.m.
vegas time.
you only knew because the second you answered, jungkook shoved his phone toward the giant hotel window like he was presenting evidence in court.
âlook,â he slurred proudly. âstill dark outside. which means technically this counts as early and not late.â
you laughed immediately.
his hood was pulled up over his messy hair, oversized black hoodie swallowing him whole while neon casino lights painted soft pinks and blues across his face. he was laying on his stomach across the hotel bed, phone propped against his chest while he stared at you with sleepy, glassy eyes.
he looked warm.
comfortable.
very, very drunk.
and ridiculously adorable.
âbaby,â he said the second the camera flipped back to him. âthere you are.â
âyou are wasted.â
âno,â he scoffed.
a pause.
ââŠa little.â
in the background, jin barked out a laugh loud enough to echo through the hotel suite.
âa little?â jin repeated. âyou tried arguing with the elevator because you thought it was ignoring you.â
âit was,â jungkook defended immediately.
you could barely stop laughing.
jungkook just buried his face halfway into the hotel pillow dramatically, hood still pulled over his head.
âmiss you,â he mumbled into the fabric.
your expression softened instantly.
âyou called me just to say that?â
âyes.â
âcouldâve texted.â
âno.â he frowned sleepily. âneeded your face.â
god.
drunk jungkook was dangerously affectionate.
he shifted higher onto the bed until the phone was resting against his chest properly, his face filling most of the screen now.
âyouâre so pretty itâs actually annoying,â he informed you seriously.
âyouâre insane.â
âyou love me.â
ââŠunfortunately.â
he gasped.
then immediately started giggling to himself.
behind him, jin walked through the frame carrying multiple water bottles and what looked like pure exhaustion.
âwhy are you laying like that?â you asked.
âcomfortable,â jungkook answered instantly. âthis bed feels fucking incredible.â
âyou sound half asleep.â
âbecause iâm relaxed,â he corrected. âimportant difference.â
jin snorted somewhere behind him.
âhe refused to take his hoodie off because apparently vegas hotel air conditioning is âemotionally cold.ââ
âit is,â jungkook muttered.
you buried your face in your hand laughing.
the hood had slipped lower over his forehead now, making him look even softer somehow.
like a sleepy drunk boyfriend who accidentally called the love of his life because he missed them too much.
which was apparently exactly what this was.
âyou should sleep soon,â you told him gently.
âno.â
âjungkook.â
âiâm functioning perfectly.â
right as he said it, his phone slid off his chest and smacked directly into his face.
jin lost it laughing.
you did too.
jungkook just blinked slowly before mumbling:
ââŠrude.â
âyou okay?â
âmhm.â he pulled the hood farther over his head dramatically. âthe hoodie protected me.â
âthatâs not how hoodies work.â
âsays who?â
you smiled helplessly.
he got quiet for a second then.
still staring at you through the screen.
âi wish you were here,â he admitted softly.
something in your chest pulled tight.
the vegas lights flickered dimly across his face while he spoke again, slower now.
âwe went everywhere tonight and every time something funny happened i kept thinkingââ he paused sleepily, âââwait till i tell her.ââ
your heart honestly melted.
âyouâre sweet when youâre drunk.â
âiâm sweet always.â
âyou called jin a dick fifteen minutes ago.â
âhe deserved it.â
âi heard that,â jin yelled from somewhere offscreen.
jungkook ignored him completely.
âyou know i love you, right?â
the words came out easy.
natural.
like he didnât even think before saying them.
your breath caught a little anyway.
âyouâre gonna regret saying all this tomorrow.â
ânope.â
âyes, you are.â
âno,â he insisted stubbornly, eyes heavy beneath the hood. âsober me just gets shy about it.â
that one got you completely.
you smiled softly without meaning to.
his entire expression melted the second he saw it.
âthere she is,â he whispered. âthat smile.â
suddenly another face appeared beside him.
taehyung leaned into frame laughing so hard he could barely speak.
âjungkook,â he said, grabbing jungkookâs shoulder, âthe van is downstairs. we have to go.â
jungkook immediately groaned and buried his face into the pillow again.
ânooooo.â
âyes.â
âiâm busy.â
âyouâve been on facetime for almost an hour.â
âand?â
taehyung looked directly at you.
âheâs been talking about her literally all night.â
jungkook whined loudly.
âtaehyungggg.â
âwhat? itâs true.â
âiâm in love, leave me alone.â
taehyung burst into louder laughter while jin yelled, âget him out of the hotel before he passes out.â
jungkook clutched the phone against his chest protectively.
âno. iâm staying here.â
âyou are absolutely not.â
âi donât wanna hang up yet,â he complained, looking back at you with the saddest pout imaginable. âcanât she just come to vegas right now?â
âat five in the morning?â
âyes.â
âyouâre ridiculous.â
âbut you like me.â
unfortunately, he was right.
taehyung was still trying to drag him off the bed while jungkook stubbornly held onto the phone with both hands.
âbaby,â he whined softly, hood slipping over one eye, âstay on call till i get in the van?â
you smiled.
âokay.â
his entire face lit up instantly.
âthereâs my girl,â he murmured sleepily. âfavorite person in the whole fucking world.â
summary: namjoon thinks of you when he reads a smut scene in his book.
warnings: boyfriend namjoon!!!, kimi namijoon reading, mentions of sex (riding), oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, the importance of consent, teasing, raw sex, breeding kink <3, big dick namu!!, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, joonie's chain dangling in ur face, tummy bulge, creampie, bruising, hickeys, aftercare:(
note: it took blood, sweat and tears (hehe) to write this and i'm so happy it's finally here!! i loved writing about namjoon. he's my whole soul and the entirety of my heart and i have to write abt him again soon. please take your time reading this and enjoy urself! let me know what you think in the comments mwah (or tell me anonymously in my inbox) and as i always say please like and if u want to - reblog, but i won't pressure u baby. love love you!!
side note: if you want to jump straight to the smut, it's right under the asterisks <;3
You revel, you truly do, in seeing your boyfriend in such a serene state of mind.Â
Nose buried in a book, Namjoon pays no mind to the surroundings fleeting by him with each flutter of his eyelashes. It goes unnoticed by him, strangely so, how you tidy up the apartment you share. How you feed the two cats that chose you and him to be their human parents. How you fondle their soft ears. How you bend over the furniture to whisper âpspspsâ at them when they need a moment away from you just to see their round eyes look up at you stupidly. Namjoon usually observes these moments; this utmost natural behavior of yours. He draws strength from the homeliness of it all with each and every swell of his lungs. Needs it to survive. That is until he gets a hold of that one papery portal and sits comfortably on the couch, one ankle propped over the knee. Then, he ceases to exist in this world.Â
Youâre happy for him. Over time, youâve come to find that you have a certain fondness for the way he remains stoic. Because you always know what kind of book heâs reading, a smile blossoms on its own over the line of your lips whenever your eye catches the sculpture-like look on his face. Itâs like even if he let himself hold his breath, his consciousness would waver back to the earth and the wretched awareness that heâs here, among mortals and the unfair capitalist system aftermath, would stream in his bloodstream, poisoning his experience. It takes the leisure out of it and makes the bed for misery instead. He doesnât like it. Hates it, in fact. Itâs a necessity that he focuses, as he embarks on the journey, because he does it for you.
Namjoon confides in his feelings and his literature with you almost on a daily basis. On the same couch, with the same cats snoring faintly, their small bodies spilling over the perimeter of your tangled legs. Doesnât matter if itâs his thigh or the curve of your hip. The animals always find a warm crook to doze in, eavesdropping in, with their curious little ears, on the conversations youâre having. Though you reckon they like the meat of his thigh the best. You do, too. Canât really blame them. The same serenity that intimately knows the person of Namjoon perceives the person of you when he prompts you to rest your head on his lap while he brushes his book-kissed fingers through the silky waterfall of your hair. Thoroughly explains the intricacies of the plot heâs invested in to you. Describes the characters as if theyâre real people heâs become acquainted with. They are real to you as you listen. As you ask additional questions and gaze up at his eyes just to catch that one body of a shooting star fiery hot in the glossiness of his eyes. As you wonder, openly, what will happen to them.
âIâll tell you when they tell me.â He sunk the promise onto the smooth skin of your forehead with the pucker of his lips.
Itâs how you discovered, in all seriousness, that the plaster of his stoicism breaks during these literary moments.
Various colors of emotion tug and twist his features, the bare kind. The unrestrained kind. You know itâs a relief for him when the dam bursts open, soaking you in the beauty of humanness one only finds in literature these days. You canât help but fall in love with him all over again when his eyebrows furrow. When his orbs nearly burn a hole in the ceiling when heâs trying to think of the right word that will ultimately help him convey the unfolding of the storyline. When he gives up and weaves English into his sentences, relying on his hands to say what his overstimulated brain fails to do.Â
He reads to pass knowledge to you. The serenity whispered it into the chambers of your heart, a puff of hot breath in winterâs cold. It soothingly rubbed his shoulders when Namjoon told you there used to be a time when he couldnât stand the sight of his books lining up the walls of his apartment. Wanted to burn it down and watch as the evidence of his melancholy dies in front of him. Because thatâs what most of his book collection consisted of back then. The innermost shadowy faces of his pain. Loneliness. Sadness. Despair from life, from it not being enough for him, from it not saving a spot there for himânot once throughout the course of his life. Thatâs why he reads different kinds of books now. Ones that do not reflect his survival before you.
The reader has to get wiser, ruffled by life in order to gain more, gain what they need from those once deeply loved pages. Itâs what the serenity believes. Itâs what you believe and hope for Namjoon. That one day, somehow by the healing of the love you give him, he will look back and pick a souvenir from that moonless country of pain. Put it up somewhere between the spines of his new cluttered collection. Look at it from time to time and sense that itâs telling him something. Something that will fill the stitched-up cracks in his heart with sunlight. Something that he will pass over to you. Itâs your love language after all. Namjoon reads because you read. Itâs his own personal healing thing.Â
You two are just a pair of two bookworms. Unfit for the world outside. Fit for the land you two created. Whose soil you take care of together.
***
Dinner is almost ready by the time you feel his fingertips gripping your hips. You hum, acknowledging his presence. Glad for the homely heat that radiates off of his body and seeps into your bones as you stir the risotto you decided to make on the stove. Coldness had been embracing you all day while he read so youâre overjoyed that he ripped it away from you.
Namjoon places a kiss on your temple and you sigh in relief. You might be too dependent on him, but so is he. He wouldnât be nuzzling his face in your hair, squeezing your waist, peppering kisses on your tender skin if he wasnât. Itâs the perfect balance. And itâs not that youâre not able to be away from each other. The principle of looking forward to one another is what makes it so sweet, so endurable for the pair of you. Of the coming back and coming into contact at the end of the day. Itâs natural. Simple. Human.
âMissed me?â Namjoon husks into your ear.Â
You smirk and turn off the stove, turning around to face him. âTerribly.â
His body is clad in a black T-shirt that fits his broad figure well and a pair of baggy sweats of the same color, having discarded the warm crewneck he was wearing earlier somewhere in the universe of his book. A long silver chain twinkles in the middle of his chest in the yellow light. You caress it with your fingers and leave your palm there, on the hardness of his pecs.Â
âI finished the book,â he says and you blink up at him. Youâre not surprised at all. âCouldnât put it down.â
Sleepy wrinkles have left their mark on his face from the cozy position he laid in for too long on the couch. His short sunlit hair, grown healthily from his military service, is tousled in all directions and you smooth it down for him. How did God bless you with such a beautiful man is something youâll wonder about for the rest of your life.Â
âWhat happened to Theo in the end?â you ask, genuinely curious about whether one of the characters youâve grown attached to is okay after all the shit the author put him through.Â
Namjoon was reading a coming-of-age book about a boy named Theo. A panorama of his childhood and adolescent life, youâve heard all about it. Namjoon cared a lot about this story, cared a lot about the protagonistâs emotions and reactions to the reappearing storms. What made him stick with it, despite the nearly triggering themes, is the fact that Theo never let go of his optimism no matter what. It was incredibly inspiring for Namjoon. Something new. Something that he never thought could be possible. Youâre proud of him for daring to read a book so reminiscent of his past.
âYouâre not gonna believe it,â Namjoon says, a blush creeping along his cheeks.
You raise one of your eyebrows in question.Â
âTheo got laid,â Namjoon reveals, laughing softly. âIâm so happy for him.â
You gasp and burst into giggles. âWhat?â
âHe got some!âÂ
Your laughter rises in volume. âHe lost his virginity and thatâs the end?â
âIt was a big moment for him. A triumph of some kind. Like he shed his old skin and left that broken life behind. It was amazing.â Namjoonâs eyes glint with tiny shooting stars and you melt. He always finds poetic meanings in the varieties of the character arcs. You think you just fell in love with him all over again.Â
âThatâs really beautiful,â you admit. It reminds you of something. Of something quite personal. âMy first time with you changed my life as well.â
Namjoonâs eyebrows curl in tenderness. Dragon eyes widen and round in fervent emotion. He squeezes his arms around you, enfolding you in a hug. Kisses you warmly. Strokes your hair down your back. Your own eyes pool with little tears with the intimate knowledge that you chose the right person to unfold your raw femininity with. No one, no man other than him could have created such a safe for that to happen.
âTell you what,â Namjoon says a bit hoarsely. âI saw us in it.â
You hum, encouraging him to continue. Crave for more of his thoughts and confidential findings. Its fire spreading through your body, as each word of his registers in your brain, always makes you feel phenomenally alive. Youâre not timid to avow that itâs your addiction. Shame doesnât know you.
âElena was on top and he was watching her. In awe of her,â he murmurs, caressing your cheek with the tip of his thumb. âMade me think of our last time. A life changing experience of mine as well.â
You welcome the fire and suspire with sudden desire, eyes lidding. Your heart begins to thump. Namjoon studies your reaction.Â
âYou remember well, donât you?â He nudges his nose against yours. âI was in awe of you just the same.âÂ
Itâs impossible not to remember. The memory consumes your mind every waking hour. Gets you needy in ways you havenât felt before. Namjoon had you sat on his lap among the fluffiness of your innumerable pillows and plushies. Had you do all the work as he focused on the sleekness of your freshly moisturized calves, its coconut aroma interfused with the scent of sex and the euphony of your bounces, ragged breaths and broken moans making his head all fucked up. He was loud himself, more loud than you ever recalled him being. Reading your body at the mercy of the pleasure his hard length was giving you with his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. Not once did he take his eyes off of you, not once did he help you. Just gripped your calves. Your thighs. Your tits all in his face. Only when you came hard, out of your own delightful merit, did his eyes roll back. You left his hips glazed with the evidence of your well-deserved orgasm, a porcelain statue made glossy.
A little later, during your pillow talk, he told you heâd found the idea of you using him while getting yourself off extremely hot. Made him more hard than heâd been in a while. Begged you to be even more selfish next time, adding an indistinct, âwell, of course, if you wantâ to the end of his sentence because heâs Namjoon.
âI do,â you breathe. âTouched myself to it this morning while you were still asleep.â
Namjoon groans. âGod.â He kisses the side of your neck. Gets close to your ear. âYou wanna do it again, hm? Wanna fuck me?âÂ
You might burst. His closeness, his heat, his need to ask for your consent turns you unstable. Youâre choked up on your words, mind too fuzzy to say something. Turned on. Fucked up.
âYou wanna show me how you touched yourself?â Namjoon continues, but you shake your head against the side of his face.Â
You had touched yourself in the shower. Couldnât say no to the impulse. Sharing that part of you for his eyes to see isnât something youâre quite ready for. To you, itâs still something thatâs yours. Something private. A courage you have yet to pluck up. Youâre afraid to give him this last part of your femininity.
âNot today,â you whisper, planting a kiss on his neck. Feel him shiver. âIâm sorry. Do you mind?â
Withdrawing from your neck, Namjoon looks you dead in the eye, brows twisted in stern seriousness. âDonât ever apologize for something like that again. Hear me when I say that.â
You squeeze his shoulder, the corners of your mouth lowering in a pout. Thankfulness grips your heart and suddenly itâs hard to breathe.Â
âYou know this is why we do this right?â he asks you. âWhy I ask you these questions? I need to always know what youâre comfortable with so I donât make a mistake.â
You nod. âYes, Namjoon, I know and Iâm so thankful.â
âGood. Iâll never push you to do anything you donât want. Donât forget that, okay?â
âOkay, I wonât.âÂ
âThatâs my girl.Â
You grab him by the back of his neck and engulf him in a hug. Luckiest girl in the world? That you are. The fact that youâre his is still something you canât wrap your head around.
âWe can stop. We donât even have to do anything tonightââ
âNo, Namjoon.â You withdraw. âLook.â Wrapping your hand around his wrist, you slip his hand beneath the confines of your panties.Â
His breath shakes when he reaches your soaked folds. He traces your hole with his middle finger and your hips follow his movement, the pleasure so faint but so good that you flutter your eyes closed.
âFuck, baby.âÂ
âYeah, I need you. Need more,â you breathe out. âCanât leave me like this, can you?â
Namjoon hums. âNo, Iâll take care of you. Iâll take care of this pussy.âÂ
He kisses you. Massages his tongue against yours. You buck your hips into his hand and Namjoon hears your body language. Takes his fingers up and rubs your swollen clit from side to side, quickening his pace as he swallows your moans down his throat. Gets angry at your tight leggings hindering him in giving you more, so he gets on his knees and swiftly pulls them down along with your underwear.Â
âSit on the counter.â
You comply right away. Namjoon takes your feet in his hands and gently removes your slippers, removing your garments fully so they donât pool around your ankles. He needs your legs spread and he needs them spread wide for what heâs about to do to you.Â
Torso long enough to reach you, he remains on his knees. Runs his hands up the back of your thighs to guide you into the position he wants you in. âLock your arms around the back of your knees. Donât let go.â
You do as he says, biting your lips in nervousness. Intertwine your hands together. Prepare yourself to die.Â
Namjoon studies your dewy pussy, index and middle finger mimicking the letter V as he slides them up and down your folds, squeezing just right to hear you mewling. Your knees being so close together makes her look a lot more pillowy and you hear Namjoon breathe hard, absolutely hypnotized by the beauty of your flesh.Â
âFuck, baby, youâre dripping down my hand.â He withdraws his fingers to show you how your slick trickles down the lines on his palm, changing the course of his life once and for all.Â
Your clit throbs, breath matching his. âPlease, Namjoon.â
He curses inaudibly. Brings his fingers back down to your folds, squeezes your lips and your clit together. Hisses at the sweet whimpery sounds spilling out of your mouth. Presses tighter so you whine needily for him. Takes you into his mouth when he accomplished what he wanted, tonguing your clit in slow agonizing circles that has you buckling your hips again. Puts his hands on your thighs to keep you down, flicking fast to absolutely abuse the fuck of you. Dragon eyes zeroing on yours, he gives you the hypnosis that your pussy did to him as he sucks on your bundle of nerves. You canât even scream. Canât breathe. The pleasure overwhelms you wholly and straps you down. Thereâs nothing you can do but take it.Â
You come hard on his tongue. Namjoon laps it all up gladly. And when heâs finished, he stands up and slips those two digits that ruined you into your hole. Doesnât move them. Lets you adjust instead.
âOne more,â he mutters. âPlease.â
You nod.
âUse your words or weâre stopping.â
You groan and close your eyes, your thighs visibly shaking in your iron grip from your orgasm. âYes, Namjoon, one more. Iâll come for you.â
Namjoon places a wet kiss on your thigh to praise you, and to thank you as well. Begins to move his fingers promptly, but canât seem to get enough of your skin. Proceeds to make it shiny with his liquid love, sucking it to bruise you. To remember this moment a little more fondly in the morning.Â
Creating a trail up to the back of your knee, his digits pick up the speed. The pool of slick you left in his palm sloshes with each rapid thrust of his hand. He looks back at you and sees you lost in the pleasure, eyes lidded and unfocused. âLook at me.âÂ
You do, weakly.
âJust a little bit more and Iâll fuck you, all right?â
Youâre about to nod, but decide against it. âMhm, yes, Namjoon, fuck.âÂ
He smiles down at you. Your relief inches closer. âIâm so proud of you for speaking up today. For letting me know.âÂ
You could cry right now. Because of his fingers making you feel so good. Because of his kindness making you feel so safe. It all closes in on you and you whimper.Â
Abruptly, Namjoon unravels your grip on your knees and kisses you, tongue slipping in. You come all over his hand, without meaning to, and he doesnât stop. On the contrary, Namjoon fucks you harder. Takes all four of his fingers and strums your clit, prolonging your orgasm, swallowing down all of your moans.Â
âCome on.â
Namjoon helps you down. If it werenât for his arms holding you steady, you wouldâve collapsed on the floor. Your legs shake, muscles taut and tense.Â
âI got you.â
Sat on the floor with his joggers and boxers pulled beneath his crotch, he pulls you down on his lap. A wisp of precum adorns his tip and you wrap your hand around it, collecting it with your thumb. Watch him as you swirl your tongue around the digit before sucking on it, letting go with an obscene pop. Namjoon licks his lips, hands clasping your hips hard enough to bruise you. Twitches in your other hand.
âDonât fucking do that to me, baby.âÂ
You laugh almost inaudibly, drunk on him. âAre you gonna come in me?âÂ
He replaces your hand, holding his length at the base for you to sink down. And you do, gasping softly at his thickness. Your dewiness helps it to be a smooth ride.
âGonna pump you full. Leave you dripping,â he promises, voice restrained. âGonna fuck you so good youâll remember it for the rest of your life.âÂ
One thing about Namjoon, heâs a man of his word.Â
Seated perfectly on him, he waits for you to adjust. Alleviates the tremble of your thighs with his palms, massaging the muscles. Takes off your shirt and flings it across the kitchen. Gropes your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers. You start to grind on him, throwing your head back. He latches onto your nipple and flicks the nub with his tongue. You lose your mind, leaking down his balls.Â
âReady?â he asks against the fullness of your breast.Â
âYeah, fuck me, Joon.âÂ
He thrusts into you once to watch you fall apart. Locks your arms behind your back. Grabs your forearms for his use.
âYou forgot something.â
He thrusts again, harder this time.
âWhat?â you breathe out, meekly.Â
âWhat word do you use when you want to ask for something?â
He watches you as you work it out in your brain. Fucks into you three more times, equally hard, to disrupt you.Â
âFuck, sorry. Please, Joon, please.â
He grinds, hips rotating in circles.Â
âUh-huh, thatâs right. Now use it.âÂ
Namjoon envelops your tit in his mouth, swirling his tongue around your areola. Sucking. Keeping up the agonizing pace. Groaning when you clench down on him.Â
âPlease, hmph, fuck me.â
Your breast bounces back when he lets go, biting his lip. âKnew you could do it,â he coos. âSmart fucking girl.âÂ
He begins to fuck you properly. Thrusting up and down as he holds you steady, keeping his eyes locked on yours. As he takes control of your squirming, leaving his fingerprints on your forearms and waist. Youâre breathless, whimpering, on the verge of sobbing. So turned on and needy for him that the emotions brim in you, threatening to spill over.Â
âArenât you?â Namjoon continues. âArenât you a smart girl?âÂ
You nod, knowing exactly what he wants to hear. âIâm a smart girl.âÂ
He spanks your ass to reward you and you arch your back. Tits all in his face. Heâs mesmerized watching them bounce and nearly slap against each other, nubs hard and pointed. He licks them up, flicking them with his tongue. You round your shoulders a little in pleasure, his strong grip not letting you fold like your body wants.Â
âThatâs right. So smart and good for me. So fucking wet. Making me lose my mind.â
Namjoon kisses you. Inhales you. Withdraws only for a mere second before heâs back, tongue in, toying with you the way you like it. You feel your relief calling your name.
âNamjoon, Iâm so fucking close. Iâm so close. Iâm gonna come,â you whine, forehead pressed against his, face twisted in ecstasy.
Namjoon stops out of the blue and slips out of you. You whine loudly, but before you know it, he carries you to the couch and lays you down on it. Takes off all of his clothes until only his silver chain remains, shining bright in the dim light. He spreads your legs, one limb over the backrest, the other around his thigh. Grips his length and tugs at it a few times, the feeling of your wetness making him slippery pulling moan after moan out of him.Â
He enters you again and resumes his fast pace, holding your calf in his hand. âSmart girls come on the couch, not on the floor like whores. You got that?âÂ
You nod almost too eagerly, fucked out beyond measure. âYes, Joon, please make me come. Please, come here.âÂ
Namjoon leans towards you, propping his elbows by your head, cradling you. âIâm here. Iâm gonna make you come.âÂ
From this angle, he fucks you more deeply than before, his tip reaching your cervix. You roll your eyes back, but bring them right back to his face when his chain taps you on the chin. You find it so hot that you grind your hips against his, meeting his thrusts, encouraging him to fuck you harder. The chain meets you in erratic staccatos and you scratch your nails down his bare back, the sword-like pendant hurting you in a way that you like.Â
Namjoon notices. Slows down his movements. Pinches the chain from the back of his neck. Prompts you to lift your head and slides it over, letting it rest in the middle of your breasts. Then fucks you back into the couch. Â
âSo fucking beautiful,â he murmurs against your lips. âGonna breed you. Hm. You want that, donât you?â
The cord tightens in your lower belly. The bulge of where his tip is hitting you nudges him in his stomach and he looks down. Curses.Â
âLook.âÂ
You follow his eyes and moan. âNamjoon, Namjoon, please come in me. Iâm so close. Wanna feel you. Please.âÂ
He grunts, nodding his head. Licks his fingertips and presses them against your clit. Pleasures you in fast and swift jerks until youâre knocking your head back. Only when he grabs your jaw and kisses you does the cord snap, his lips being your ultimate undoing.Â
Namjoon presses you down with his body, keeps you calm and collected. Kisses you all through it, your jaw, your neck, your cheeks. Then his thrusts turn sloppy and his cock twitches in you. He gives you one final hard thrusts and fills you up, groaning against your mouth.
Youâre smoothing down the sting of your scratches on his back when he pulls out of you and his cum drips out of you. You wish you could see what he sees, hand on his mouth, careful to catch his drool. You push out more for him and he curses, fondling your pussy with his thumb before he pumps it back in.Â
He comes back to you and kisses you. Fixes your hair. Caresses your cheek. Helps you stand on your feet as he leads you into the shower. Washes every inch of your body, heedful of the bruises he left on the back of your thigh. Lathers your hair in your favorite shampoo. Wraps you in a towel. Wanted to moisturize your body, but you told him off, knowing both of you would get horny again. You let him brush your hair, though, placing a comb in his hand. Heâs gentle as he undoes the knots, then he blowdries your hair.Â
And you do the same for him.
Once the pillow touches your cheeks, youâre both out like a light.Â
jungkook x reader (f): established relationship, they are madly in love your honor
wc: 2.6k
cw: pregnancy talk, mutual masturbation
Your date nights usually end in nasty sex, but tonight, Jungkook has something else in mind.
Despite living under the same roof, it was becoming practically impossible to see your own boyfriend. The amount of stress you were both under at work was simply inhumane, and by the end of the day, youâd both be so tired that the only joint activity you could do lately was passing out on the couch after dinner. While it was somewhat cute to encourage each other to hang in there a bit more, days were turning into weeks, and weeks were turning into fucking months now. The tasks to complete never seemed to end, and it finally caused Jungkook to snap really hard one night.
âFUUUCK this entirely!â he slammed his laptop monitor close, giving you a horrible start. âIâm taking you out tomorrow night and thatâs it! Iâll punch your boss in the face if he bitches about some deadline again.â
âBut baby, I really need to finiââ
âDid I fucking stutter? Donât make me come into your workplace and fuck you in front of everyone, âcause Iâll do it,â he threateningly pointed his finger at you. âTomorrow night. Youâre dolling up for me, weâre spending the shit out of some quality time, then weâre fucking each otherâs brains out. Is that clear?â
âSir, yes sir!â you aggressively saluted him.
You were dying of guilt as you were getting ready the next day, still thinking about some spreadsheet to complete, but one thing you had learned throughout your entire relationship with Jungkook was to never doubt him. He was rightâunless you made time for each other, there was always going to be some shit to deal with, and in the grand scheme of things, jobs were temporary but soulmates were forever. You were in dire need of being in each otherâs meaningful company for an extended period of time, and you needed it now.
It was around 2 a.m. when you came home from an incredibly pleasant date, fully satiated, and almost trampling each other in the hallway for how much you were laughing. Jungkook fished for his keys in his pockets and turned to you, slightly slurring.
âAnd the grand finale the audience has been waiting for,â he finally managed to put the key in the lock. âThis is where we fuck.â
âStop it, Iâm swooning,â you batted your eyelashes at him with a super deadpan voice. âDude, at least try to put the moves on me!â
âShit, we were supposed to do the tap dance first, werenât we?â he cleared his throat and asked extra cornily while wiggling his brows. âWanna come in for a nightcap, beautiful?â
âI donât know. You seem to be the type to fuck and bounce,â you looked him up and down.
âThen let me rephrase,â he pulled you close from your waist. âCome in for a nightcap.â
âI donât wanna put out on the first date.â
âOh, youâre gonna,â he whispered into your ear. âI eat pussy on the first date.â
You burst out laughing and kissed each other, not giving a shit whether you were disturbing your neighbors or not. While you did have an amazing time, you were longing for comfort, so you immediately darted to the bedroom to get rid of everything that didnât fall under sweatpants couture.
âWanna try something different with me tonight?â Jungkook appeared behind you with a glass of water in his hand.
âOoh, Jungkookâs Favorite Things,â you cheered while taking off your earrings. âWhat do we have on the menu today, sir?â
He placed the sweating glass on the vanity table and put his cold hands on your shoulders.
âI did something some time ago without asking you.â
âOh my god, did you really get that slutty Santa costume? That was a joke!â you widened your eyes, utterly scandalized.
âFirst of all, I love you, but not even if you give me the best head known to mankind,â Jungkook unclasped your necklace. âRemember the night we got high?â
Your cheeks instantly started to burn because that night was⊠something else.Â
Like many other couples out there, you and Jungkook would also experiment in your bedroom every now and then. The act in question wasnât the problem; it was actually one of the vanillaest things youâd ever tried.
It was the fucking talk throughout the whole thing, and just thinking about the aftermath made you want to disappear.
âCan I choose not to?â
âWell, you canât because I recorded it,â Jungkook suddenly declared, holding your gaze in the mirror.
âYou have permanent proof of it?!â You turned round, absolutely mortified, and held your head in between your hands. âGod, this is so fucking embarrassing!â
âYou came so hard when I called you mommy last week, but this is embarrassing?â he kneeled in front of you, not being able to help his teasing laughter, and earned himself a not-so-gentle slap on the arm.
âYou know what you said to me in the middle of sex.â
âAnd you agreed if my memory serves me right.â The more flustered you got, the wider his grin grew. âVery enthusiastically, if I might add.â
âYeah, no kidding! Now you know why Iâm not watching that shit, Jungkook.âÂ
âItâs just sound! So what if you came hard to that?â he held your hands and kissed them. âI find it really cute.â
âYou also find tarantulas cute,â you scoffed and jumped to your feet. âLook, Iâm not some marriage enthusiast or anything, okay? It was justââ
âShh.â
He stopped you from spiraling with a soft kiss on your lips, instantly pacifying you on the spot. His hands were on your waist as if you were slow dancing.
âYou know how much I love your body, right, baby?â he slid the back of his hand down your cleavage. âYou know how bad it turns me on when you touch yourself to me.â
His lips found their way to your neck, leaving a feathery trail down to your collarbones, and your eyes instinctively closed as you leaned into his touch.
âYou know how much I love making you feel good,â he softly spoke into your ear, âbut I know my place. You know your own body better than I do.â
He was soothing the burn that rose from the pit of your stomach all the way up to your cheeks. Every kiss was like drops of ice-cold water, making sizzling sounds as they dripped on your skin, and it was turning into something much more pleasant.
âI want you to touch yourself listening to us,â he guided your hand under your dress. âAnd I wanna jerk off watching my girl. No touching each other.â
Well, damn, okay, you spreading in front of Jungkook and fucking yourself while he wasnât allowed to do anything besides self-pleasure?
That sounded hot.Â
âI can, right?â he asked, but he was already making you walk backwards towards the bed. When you nodded with his lips within yours, he got visibly excited. âI promise itâs much hotter than what you make it out to be in your head.â
You brought out your go-to massager as Jungkook connected his phone to the speaker on your nightstand. You were a bit tipsy, but you still felt self-conscious as if the times you saw each other naked throughout the years did not significantly outweigh your clothed appearances. He dragged the zipper of your dress down while softly kissing you, and you unbuttoned his charcoal black shirt in return.
He tasted like the ice cream brownie you shared at the end of your dinner.
âClose your eyes now,â he kissed the tip of your nose and lay you down on your back. You werenât sure to what extent you were ready to relive that night all over again, butâŠÂ
Oh wellâŠ
Then he pressed play.Â
â...wonât remember. Come on, itâll be fun!â
âYou want us to have sex faded as fuck?â
Jungkookâs voice instantly filled your ears and extracted a soft giggle from your throat. Courtesy of the auditory aid right next to you, the night actually started replaying behind your eyelids like you were watching a tape. You could see everything clearly. It was in this very room. Jungkook was in his boxers, to the left side of the bed, and you were wearing nothing but his t-shirt. You would jump him fully clothed as it was, but the semi-erection he was flashing between his sprawled legs made you want to misbehave so bad.
âEven if we fuck for like five minutes, itâs gonna feel like hours. I wanna know what thatâs like.â
âYouâve been asking for a lot of things lately, you know?â
âStop bitching, Kookie Monster.â
A shriek was heard from the speakers, followed by peals of laughter. That was the moment Jungkook tackled you and trapped you under his frame.
âWanna make out for hours first?â
You listened to the wet kissing sounds that accompanied your hums and grunts. You could practically feel Jungkookâs touch on you. It did feel like you made out for an hour straight that night, and even though you were burning alive with lust, you remembered how cozy and safe it felt in his arms. Between his lips. Under his body like nothing in this world could possibly harm you.
You started caressing yourself.
âYouâre so beautiful. I canât believe I get to touch you sometimes.â
The kisses were interrupted by the rustle of sheets caused by Jungkook moving you closer to the nightstand for reasons you didnât know back then as well as clothing being discarded. For a short while, all that was heard was your heavy breathing and his soft kisses traveling further down your body.
âJungkookâŠâ
Then the wet sounds morphed into sheer pornography in your ears. Jungkookâs tongue fluttering on your clit, loudly slurping on your entrance, open mouth kisses all over your folds, his saliva dripping everywhere⊠Your fingers werenât even close to enough anymore, so you finally turned on the massager and pressed it on your clit.
âWould it be the worst thing if I became your baby daddy? Weâre gonna hold your legs up like this so that it holds.â
You started fondling your breasts to the white-hot memories of him pressing your legs all the way back to the headboard and eating your pussy like that for god knows how long.Â
The present-day Jungkook, on the other hand, was drooling over your sigh, squeezing the last drops of his sanity to keep his composure while trying to pace the rhythm of his strokes to match yours.
âYou best believe my oral fixation is gonna get so much worse when I finally knock you up.â
âHow much worse can you get?â
âA lot worse. Youâll be my breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Iâll follow you around and latch onto your pretty cunt every chance I get. I heard creampies in bred pussies taste so much more delicious. Weâll test that hypothesis.â
It was right at this point that he started obliterating you. Bringing this up out of nowhere and relentlessly holding onto it because how could he not when your body was this responsive to him? You were throbbing hard in his mouth, and the down-bad talk was not helping one bit. You increased the intensity of the vibrations and started teasing your entrance. You could hear Jungkookâs breathing getting louder right next to you, and he was trying so hard to resist the urge to throw that goddamn toy to the side and fuck your wits out himself.
âYou can come visit me at work if you crave me too much. Just barge into my meetings or whatever. Iâll stop the world to eat my pregnant wifeâs pussy.â
Fucking embarrassing the way this was happening for the second time. You were reacting as violently as you did then, loudly moaning at what he just said, and started fucking yourself fervently. Seeing how you were clenching to tighten yourself, Jungkook immediately picked up his pace to sync his rhythm to you.
âYou like it that much, huh? Your taste changed.âÂ
âStop that.â
âYou taste like my future wife all of a sudden.â
âStop saying that!â
âI fucking love it when you canât even wait for me to come home. Teasing me the whole way back. Getting me hard in public. You love having this chokehold on me, donât you?â
âJungkook!!!â
He was grunting and moaning into your pussy as his fingers slithered inside, stimulating the spongy texture you loved so much to his heartâs content. The pressure inside you was building to an unbearable level as you tried to replicate the exact same feeling, curving the massager a little upwards so that the tip would press on the same spot.Â
âCome closer,â you begged him, panting. âIâm not gonna touch you. Kiss me. Just kiss me.â
As if he was waiting on standby, Jungkook immediately started devouring your lips, kissing you so hard that your lips were getting swollen.
âYou like that, baby? Right here, isnât it?â
âGod, Iâm so close. Donât fucking stop!â
You knew what was coming after this. Part of the reason you wanted Jungkook on your lips was so that he wouldnât see your face because you were sure as fuck burning up like you were running a fever.Â
But very much in vain.
âOpen your eyes,â he urgently spoke. âLook at me.â
You could hear how fast he was pumping his cock into his fist, squelches eerily reminiscent of what he sounded like when he sank into your pussy.
âMarry me. Be my girl even after death do us part.â
âYâYesâŠâ
âWill you marry me?â
âYES!!!â
That night, youâd squirted on Jungkookâs face at the precise moment you heard that question. He didnât even give a shit about how messy it was and just kept on fucking you until he got his own release. You had never seen something more erotic in your life than watching your cum drip down his cheekbones like beads of sweat.
When the sounds coming from the speaker stopped, your volume started getting louder. Jungkook couldnât hold back anymore and came right on your clit, thick strings of cum slowly dripping towards your entrance. He carefully pulled the massager out of you, threw it to the side, and sank his fingers into you instead, just like that night, fucking his cum deeper and deeper into you with your clit throbbing in his mouth.
âAlmost⊠Almost⊠FUCK!âÂ
You relived that moment in the exact same magnitude, this time looking right into Jungkookâs eyes. Your fingers were sinking into your palms, your toes were dangerously curling to the point of spasm. Your entire body was convulsing like he was running kilowatts of electricity through your body. It took a while for you to come down, but Jungkook made sure your soul stayed intact, placing kisses all over your face, whispering little âI love youâs on every spot he left a mark on.
âCan you grab me some tissues, baby?â he eventually asked you.
You were so beat that you reached for the entire tissue box on the nightstand to your right in complete slow motion. When you turned back around, you saw the beautiful man you were madly in love with holding a black velvet box open, eyes glinting with pure adoration for you as brightly as the diamond inside.
âWill you be my girl even after death do us part?â
this is a oneshot, there is no part two.
but if you're interested we can have a kooktober because i have a whole set of this idk let me know i guess.
